He brought us a beefsteak. At home, Eugénie always served; I did not like to serve, or to carve. But madame would not so much as look at me. I cut a piece for myself with an angry gesture, then pushed the platter before Eugénie. But she would not touch it; she knew that it annoyed me to see that she did not eat, and so she was very careful not to take a mouthful. I found that vexation and impatience were taking away my appetite too; but no matter! I ate a double quantity. To add to my annoyance, a little violinist had stopped under our window; he had played the same tune ever since we had been there, although I had shouted to him that I would give him nothing. I was not in a mood to be generous. Well, upon my word! Once more the knob was turned and returned. What a blockhead that waiter was! I should have been delighted to kick him. He entered, still with an air of mystery, and placed some sweetbreads on the table. Really these family quarrels are most tiresome, for there is no way to avoid them, one must submit to them from beginning to end. If you are bored at other people’s houses, you can go away and never go there again; but at home it is different: you always have to go back. I know that there are husbands who go out in the morning and do not return until bedtime; but is it not a hundred times better to be a bachelor than to be obliged to shun one’s house in order to lead a quiet life? Then at all events, one has some little enjoyment; one laughs now and then at home. I had evidently been indulging in these reflections, and many others which were not at all rose-colored, for a long time. The violin played on, but I had ceased to attend to it; I had also forgotten the sweetbreads which were before us; indeed I did not realize that I was at a restaurant. I was recalled to myself by the noise of the knob being turned. The waiter entered with a roast chicken. He placed his chicken on the table, and looked at the previous dish, which had not been touched. He was uncertain whether he should carry it away, and he looked from one to the other of us. I am sure that he seldom saw such a taciturn couple. As no one said anything to him, he decided to speak. “Monsieur and madame have not touched the sweetbreads yet. I brought the chicken too soon; I will take it away again.” “No, no, leave it and take away your sweetbreads; we don’t want them.” “Oh! I assure you, monsieur, that they are nicely cooked, and so fresh----” “I tell you to take them away.” I do not know whether the tone in which I said this was terrifying, but the waiter took the sweetbreads and disappeared like a flash, closing all the doors behind him. The chicken was before us. I wondered if madame would not be obliging enough to carve it. I placed it in front of her and begged her to be good enough to do so. She pushed it back to the middle of the table and said: “I will not carve.” I took up the platter again and handed it to her, saying: