Chérubin had never said so much at one time; he stopped, for he did not know how to finish his sentence. But Chichette gave him no time; she instantly replied: “Yes, yes! I’ve fled from my tyrant. But let’s talk about something else.” “She doesn’t want me to talk about her husband!” said Chérubin to himself; “she wants me to talk about something else--my love, no doubt. She is charming.--And so,” he continued aloud, “you do not regret having entrusted to me the care of your happiness, and being here at this moment, far from your native country [_pays_]?” “My pays? oh, yes, I always regret my little pays! but I hope to see him again some day. Let’s talk about something else.” “Ah! how kind you are, madame! how lovely you are! If you knew how--I--I--I love you!” It required a great effort on Chérubin’s part to say that, and he dared not look at the young woman, fearing that she would consider his declaration rather abrupt. But Mademoiselle Chichette, far from seeming offended, began to laugh idiotically, and replied: “Yes, yes! I know. Ha! ha! It’s nice to love, and you have very fine eyes. Ha! ha! I’d like right well to laugh with you.” And the so-called Polish countess, who seemed, in truth, much inclined to laugh, and who showed some very pretty teeth, looked at the young man in a meaning fashion, and did not tell him to talk about something else. For a moment Chérubin was tempted to kiss his enslaver, who almost offered him her fresh, pink cheeks; he confined himself to taking a hand, which he laid upon his heart and pressed it hard. Chichette, tired perhaps of having her hand pressed to Chérubin’s heart, said to him, still laughing: “How your thingumbob goes tick-tack! It’s like a big clock.” “Oh! it is emotion, madame; it is pleasure; it is----” “Aren’t we going to breakfast?” cried Chichette suddenly; “I’m hungry, I can hear my belly crying; it goes _flouc-flouc_!” These words brought Chérubin back to less romantic thoughts; he ran to the door, opened it, and shouted: “I say, young one--what about that breakfast?” “Here it is, monsieur, here it is! Right away, smoking hot!” replied Bruno; “the restaurant man’s just this minute come.” And a moment later a wine-shop waiter came up the stairs with the young concierge. They laid a table with two covers; they produced a basket filled with bottles, with seals of all colors; they covered the table with freshly opened oysters, and placed several covered dishes on another table. At sight of the oysters the so-called Pole indulged in the most plebeian demonstrations of delight, and began to dance about the room, crying: “Ah! oysters! I like oysters so much! I’d let myself be hamstrung for some oysters.” Chérubin was amazed to hear Madame de Globeska express herself in such terms, but he attributed it to her ignorance of the language.