As she said this, she smiled so unaffectedly that Barabant, forgetting the pangs of hunger, looked on admiringly.
"You are a philosopher, Nicole. And what do you do—if it is not indiscreet to ask?"
She understood perfectly the hesitancy, but laughed without a trace of disconcertion.
"Oh, I work hard; I am a bouquetière. Which reminds me, I must be off to the flower-market."
However, she lingered a moment. "And you, citoyen?"
"Traveler," Barabant said, with a superb wave of his hand, and then exploded in laughter at the thought. "Citoyenne, tell me something."
"Speak."
"Have you ever fasted a day?"
"Hundreds of times."