“Pshaw!” answered Benassis; “he is a little run down, that is all.”
La Fosseuse appeared on the threshold of the door, and Genestas noticed, not without surprise, her simple but coquettish costume. This was not the peasant girl of yesterday evening, but a graceful and well-dressed Parisian woman, against whose glances he felt that he was not proof. The soldier turned his eyes on the table, which was made of walnut wood. There was no tablecloth, but the surface might have been varnished, it was so well rubbed and polished. Eggs, butter, a rice pudding, and fragrant wild strawberries had been set out, and the poor child had put flowers everywhere about the room; evidently it was a great day for her. At the sight of all this, the commandant could not help looking enviously at the little house and the green sward about it, and watched the peasant girl with an air that expressed both his doubts and his hopes. Then his eyes fell on Adrien, with whom La Fosseuse was deliberately busying herself, and handing him the eggs.
“Now, commandant,” said Benassis, “you know the terms on which you are receiving hospitality. You must tell La Fosseuse ‘something about the army.’”
“But let the gentleman first have his breakfast in peace, and then, after he has taken a cup of coffee——”
“By all means, I shall be very glad,” answered the commandant; “but it must be upon one condition: you will tell us the story of some adventure in your past life, will you not, mademoiselle?”
“Why, nothing worth telling has ever happened to me, sir,” she answered, as her color rose. “Will you take a little more rice pudding?” she added, as she saw that Adrien’s plate was empty.
“If you please, mademoiselle.”
“The pudding is delicious,” said Genestas.
“Then what will you say to her coffee and cream?” cried Benassis.
“I would rather hear our pretty hostess talk.”