The waiter suddenly opened the door and said:
"I didn't bring any biscuits or macaroons, because madame doesn't want any."
"What! who told you I didn't want any?" demanded Madame Plays.
"Why, monsieur——"
Tobie's face became purple; he glared savagely at the waiter, and interrupted him with:
"What's that you say? what nonsense is this? I said: 'If your biscuits aren't fresh, I don't want any; if your macaroons are old, keep them.'—I do not wish to offer madame anything that is not—worthy of her."
"But, monsieur—just now, out in the hall, why—that wasn't——"
"If you don't hear straight, it isn't my fault. Go! we have heard enough; leave us."
The waiter made no reply, but glanced at Tobie with a cunning expression, as he left the room.
"That waiter is an idiot," said Tobie, eating his ice; "he made me lose the thread of my discourse."