'Marie, my dear, are you not coming?'

'Presently, uncle,' replied Marie, in a clear voice, as she
commenced to dispense the soup.

She ladled out all the soup without once turning her face towards
the company, then stood for a few moments as if in doubt, and after
that walked boldly up to her place. She had intended to sit next to
her uncle, opposite to her lover, and there had been her chair. But
Michel had insisted on bringing the old lady round to the seat that
Marie had intended for herself, and so had disarranged all her
plans. The old lady had simpered and smiled and made a little
speech to M. Urmand, which everybody had heard. Marie, too, had
heard it all. But the thing had to be done, and she plucked up her
courage and did it. She placed herself next to her lover, and as
she did so, felt that it was necessary that she should say something
at the moment:

'Here I am, Uncle Michel; but you'll find you'll miss me, before
supper is over.'

'There is somebody would much rather have you than his supper,' said
the horrid old lady opposite.

Then there was a pause, a terrible pause.

'Perhaps it used to be so when young men came to sup with you, years
ago; but nowadays men like their supper,' said Marie, who was driven
on by her anger to a ferocity which she could not restrain.