"'Not for want of asking for it. I am passionately fond of cabbage soup, but they never will make it at my house.'
"'I daresay not. It is not a soup for gentlefolk.'
"'Yours smells excellent, Pélagie; but you were always a good cook.'
"'Ah, sir! there is one thing that helps me to make good dinners for our men!'
"'What is that, Pélagie?'
"'A good appetite. They put to sea last night, and here they come, tired, wet, dying of hunger: all that is spice for a plain meal.'
"The fishermen entered.
"'Come along!' cried M. Malais, 'you have a famous soup waiting for you. Upon my word, it smells too good; I must taste it. Pélagie, give me a plate; I will eat a few spoonsful with you. Certainly, it is but a short time since I took my breakfast—what people call a good breakfast—but without appetite, without pleasure.'
"'Indeed! M. Malais, you will do us the honour of tasting our soup?'
"And Pélagie hastened to put a clean cloth upon the table. Berenice fetched a pot of cider. Onesimus moored the horse in the shade; then they all sat down, taking care to give the best place to M. Malais, who eagerly devoured a plateful of soup."