When there was no more fish, they passed to the dessert, which was very modest, consisting only of biscuit, cheese and dried fruit. Again Chérubin anathematized the restaurant keeper; but Chichette continued to declare everything excellent; she stuffed herself with figs, raisins, and biscuit; she drank several glasses in succession to wash it all down; and at last she stopped eating and leaned against the back of her chair. “It’s strange,” she said, “but I’m not a bit hungry now.” “It would be much stranger if she were!” thought the young man, as he moved away from the table in order to approach his companion. Having placed his chair close beside Chichette’s, he ventured to take her hand. “How fortunate I am,” he said in a hesitating tone, “to be--to be with you! What a lucky chance it was that led me to the theatre where you were; for, but for that, I should never have met you; and yet, my friend, the gentleman who was with me that evening says that we were born for each other.--Do you think that, madame?” Chichette rose hurriedly, saying: “I am rather full; it’s funny, for I didn’t eat very much.” She walked several times around the room. Chérubin went to her and said: “Do you feel ill?” “Oh, no! it will pass off.” Chichette sat down again, not on her chair, but on an old couch, covered with spots, the cushions of which looked as if they were stuffed with chips. The girl stretched herself out on it, however. “I say, this is mighty comfortable,” she said. Chérubin gazed amorously at her and cried: “Oh, yes! there certainly was sympathetic attraction in our meeting. My tutor, Monsieur Gérondif, explained it to me once. He took a little piece of agate, rubbed it hard on his coat sleeve, then held it toward a straw, and the straw instantly jumped at the stone and clung to it.--‘Thus the magnet attracts iron,’ said my tutor; ‘thus sympathy draws together two hearts that were made to love and understand each other.’--Ah! madame, I am not a Pole, but I love you as dearly--more dearly, perhaps; for my inexperienced heart feels a craving for love, and if--and if----” Chérubin paused, because it seemed to him that his words were accompanied by a dull, rumbling sound. That sound came from the couch. He had noticed that his pretty companion closed her eyes while he was speaking, but he supposed that it was from modesty. However, desirous to learn the cause of the noise he heard, he approached the young woman and saw with surprise that she was not only asleep, but was snoring heavily. The unfortunate lover gazed for some time at his sleeping enslaver; but the snoring became louder with every instant; ere long it was like the breath of a forge bellows, and Chérubin gradually drew away; he felt that his amorous desires were vanishing; for a woman who is snoring like a Swiss inspires infinitely less passion than one whose breathing is soft and light. Chérubin seated himself on a chair.