“It seems to me that she’s fond of everything!” thought Chérubin; “she certainly has been very well brought up; she doesn’t play the prude!”
Chichette voted the chowder delicious; she helped herself several times without waiting for Chérubin to offer it; she was particularly enthusiastic over the sauce; finally she began to lick her plate, unwilling apparently to leave the least particle of the sauce which she liked so much.
The young man was thunderstruck when he saw the Comtesse de Globeska put her plate to her mouth and run her tongue over it; but he concluded that custom in Poland permitted such behavior. When Chichette noticed that her companion was watching her, she realized that she had made a blunder, and instantly replaced her plate on the table, saying:
“Oh! that was just a joke! I won’t ever do it again! But let’s see what’s under that other cover.”
Chichette uncovered the last dish, which contained fried fish. She uttered a joyful exclamation:
“Ah! gudgeons! fried gudgeons! Oh! I’m so fond of fried fish!”
“I am delighted, madame, that you find all these things to your taste,” said Chérubin, serving his charmer to gudgeons; “but really you are not hard to suit; to me it seems that our breakfast is not worthy of you. Evidently there are no good restaurants in this quarter.”
“Oh, yes, yes! at La Courtille.”
“At La Courtille! I don’t know that place; did your husband take you there to dinner sometimes?”
“My husband! Oh! let’s talk about something else. I’d like something to drink; gudgeons make you thirsty in a minute.”