“Instantly, monsieur.”
And he went away after casting a furtive glance at Eugénie.
“Madame, you need not eat, if you prefer not; but you should sit at the table at least, in order not to attract the waiter’s attention.”
Eugénie made no reply, but she took her seat at the table opposite me.
The soup was brought, and I filled madame’s plate.
“Why, monsieur, I told you that I should not eat anything.”
“But, madame, I do not bid you to eat anything; I simply put some soup in your plate so that you may seem to have dined.”
Madame made no reply, but she did not touch her soup. I ate mine, humming between my teeth. That is my way when I am angry.
The waiter appeared again; he always took the precaution to turn the knob three or four times before coming in. The fellow was an idiot; he must have seen that we were not thinking of making love.
He brought us a beefsteak. At home, Eugénie always served; I did not like to serve, or to carve. But madame would not so much as look at me. I cut a piece for myself with an angry gesture, then pushed the platter before Eugénie. But she would not touch it; she knew that it annoyed me to see that she did not eat, and so she was very careful not to take a mouthful.