“Why yes, madame, I am very hungry,” Chérubin at once replied.
“And it seems that your appetite deprives you of the power of speech,” said Madame Célival with a smile. “Mon Dieu! why didn’t you remind me? I don’t want to see you fall dead from starvation. Please ring that bell.”
Chérubin pulled a cord and a maid appeared.
“Serve breakfast,” said Madame Célival.—”We will breakfast here,” she added, turning to Chérubin, “because then we shall not be disturbed by anybody; if any unwelcome visitor calls, they will say that I’m not at home. Do you think that I have done well?”
“Oh, yes, madame, it will be much pleasanter!”
Madame Célival smiled again; perhaps she thought that their tête-à-tête would become pleasanter; but this is mere conjecture.
The maid quickly laid the table with two covers. Chérubin noticed that she placed the dessert on a small table beside the large one, which was covered with dishes.
Then Madame Célival dismissed her, saying:
“If I want you, I will ring.—And now,” said the fascinating brunette, offering her hand to the young man, who continued to gaze at her admiringly, “take your seat, monsieur le marquis, and excuse me for treating you so unceremoniously; but this is not a formal breakfast.”
Madame Célival’s informal breakfast consisted of a terrine de Nérac, a stuffed partridge, small birds aux pistaches, and a superb dish of crabs; and on the small table were pastry, preserves, and a compote of plums, for dessert; lastly, several decanters of choice wines indicated that the hostess did not propose that her young guest should retain his self-possession unimpaired.