"Be kind enough to give me my plate of snails, madame, with some bread and wine; for, after all, if I don't eat them, that won't bring poor Seringat to life. That's why I prefer to eat them."
The landlady hastened to serve Dodichet, and remained with him to talk, that being her greatest enjoyment. Dodichet heaved a faint sigh from time to time, but he did not waste a mouthful.
"Does monsieur find my snails to his taste?"
"They're very good, madame, and perfectly cooked. You almost make me like the dish, and I am forgetting the loss I have suffered.—Poor Seringat!"
"Is monsieur a great loser by his death?"
"Yes, indeed! I have lost—all that I had in prospect."
"Did he owe you money?"
"No, not exactly. But it amounted to the same thing."
"You will fall back on your friend's wife—his widow, I mean—won't you?"
"No; I have no claim on her. There is nothing left for me but to dedicate one last sigh to the deceased, and think of something else.—How much do I owe you, madame?"