Their supper was delightful. Poufaille would have regretted there was no garlic or potatoes; but there were strawberries, and two cakes which Phil had brought for lunch, and good fresh water instead of wine. They had never eaten better; it was as charming as child’s play. Helia cut the fruits, dividing the oranges and arranging the parts on leaves from the bushes. To drink, she dipped the glass in a bucket of water at her side.
“Here, Phil, drink!” she said, as she offered him the glass.
“You first!” answered Phil.
Helia touched her lips to the water, and Phil drank off the glass.
“It’s better than champagne,” he said.
“Here, Phil, here’s a beautiful strawberry!”
“Taste it first!” said Phil.
Helia put the berry between her lips, and Phil took it from her with a kiss. The child’s play was growing dangerous.
“Marchons! Now let’s take a walk!” said Phil.
“C’est ça! Let’s climb our Himalaya!” cried Helia.