“But you are eating nothing, madame.”
“Oh! I am not hungry.”
“Why not?”
“Why not! what a strange question! Because women aren’t like men, and when they have anything on their mind, they live on their thoughts and their feelings, and those are all they need.”
These last words were uttered in a tone of annoyance, for Madame Célival was beginning to think that Chérubin passed an unduly long time at the table; however, she continued to offer him the different dishes, like a woman of breeding, who knows how to do the honors of her house.
“Thanks,” said Chérubin, “but I like the plums better than anything.”
“Very well, take some more.”
“Really—if I dared——”
“You are not going to stand on ceremony, are you? I shall be offended.”
Chérubin remembered that he must not be timid, that it was that which had been so harmful to him. So he helped himself to plums; in a moment he took some more; and as Madame Célival laughed heartily over his passion for plums, and he was delighted to entertain her, he did not stop until the dish contained no more.