“A moment afterward, the old waiter presented me the small gilt cup, smoking, fragrant, and inviting.
“I took it, looking, as before, out of the corner of my eye at madam. She was leaning forward, watching me with a face as pale as death. I could hear her teeth chatter.
“I placed the cup to my lips;—her hand, holding a spoon, trembled so that the spoon beat a tattoo on her saucer. She was watching me in breathless suspense; and all at once I turned full toward her.
“‘The taste of this tea is singular,’ I said, ‘I should call it very bad.’
“‘Oh, it is—excellent!’ she muttered, between her chattering teeth.
“‘The cup you send me is certainly wretched. Do me the pleasure to taste it, madam.’
“And depositing it upon the waiter of the old servant, I said:—
“‘Take this to your mistress.’
“He did so; she just touched it with her lips, her hand trembling, then replaced it upon the waiter.
“‘I perceive nothing disagreeable,’ she murmured.