These last words were accompanied with such a tender glance that Chérubin was greatly confused; to recover his self-possession, he hastily pushed away the table on which they had breakfasted and replaced it by the smaller one on which the dessert was all set out. Madame Célival, who was desirous that the breakfast should come to an end, made haste to serve her guest, and offered him everything. Chérubin scrutinized the compote of plums and asked: “What is that?” “Plums. Do you mean to say that you don’t know this dish?” “Mon Dieu! no, I never saw it before. At my nurse’s we never ate it.” Madame Célival laughed heartily. “At your nurse’s!” she repeated; “that is lovely! an excellent joke! One would think, to hear you, that you had remained out at nurse to this day.” Chérubin bit his lips; he thought that he had made a foolish speech, and was overjoyed to find that she took it for a good joke. He accepted the plums which Madame Célival offered him. “Well!” said the lovely widow, after a moment, “how do you like what you never had at your nurse’s?” “Very well! delicious!” “Will you have some more?” “With pleasure.” Madame Célival served him again to plums, and he said, as he ate them: “But you are eating nothing, madame.” “Oh! I am not hungry.” “Why not?” “Why not! what a strange question! Because women aren’t like men, and when they have anything on their mind, they live on their thoughts and their feelings, and those are all they need.” These last words were uttered in a tone of annoyance, for Madame Célival was beginning to think that Chérubin passed an unduly long time at the table; however, she continued to offer him the different dishes, like a woman of breeding, who knows how to do the honors of her house. “Thanks,” said Chérubin, “but I like the plums better than anything.” “Very well, take some more.” “Really--if I dared----” “You are not going to stand on ceremony, are you? I shall be offended.” Chérubin remembered that he must not be timid, that it was that which had been so harmful to him. So he helped himself to plums; in a moment he took some more; and as Madame Célival laughed heartily over his passion for plums, and he was delighted to entertain her, he did not stop until the dish contained no more. The lovely widow seemed very well pleased when the plums were exhausted, and the words: “That is very lucky!” escaped from her lips; but they were almost inaudible, and Chérubin did not hear them. Meanwhile the pretty hostess had softly moved her chair away from the table; she drank a few spoonfuls of coffee, placed her cup on the mantel, then resumed her seat on her couch, saying to the young man, in a voice that went to his heart: “Well! aren’t you coming to sit by me?”