These indirect comparisons with his mistress were not yet at an end.
When Calyste dined at home he ate his dinner in a way to drive Sabine
frantic; he would motion to the servants to take away his plates after
pecking at two or three mouthfuls.

"Wasn't it good?" Sabine would ask, in despair at seeing all the pains
she had taken in conference with her cook thrown away.

"I don't say that, my angel," replied Calyste, without anger; "I am
not hungry, that is all."

A woman consumed by a legitimate passion, who struggles thus, falls at
last into a fury of desire to get the better of her rival, and often
goes too far, even in the most secret regions of married life. So
cruel, burning, and incessant a combat in the obvious and, as we may
call them, exterior matters of a household must needs become more
intense and desperate in the things of the heart. Sabine studied her
attitudes, her toilets; she took heed about herself in all the
infinitely little trifles of love.

The cooking trouble lasted nearly a month. Sabine, assisted by
Mariotte and Gasselin, invented various little vaudeville schemes to
ascertain the dishes which Madame de Rochefide served to Calyste.
Gasselin was substituted for Calyste's groom, who had fallen
conveniently ill. This enabled Gasselin to consort with Madame de
Rochefide's cook, and before long, Sabine gave Calyste the same fare,
only better; but still he made difficulties.

"What is wanting now?" she said.