I thought you were not coming back this evening. Have you at
least dined?"
"No, not yet."
"Well, fortunately I have kept your dinner warm. You can sit down to it
at once."
Old Tabaret took his place at the table, and helped himself to soup,
but mounting his hobby-horse again, he forgot to eat, and remained, his
spoon in the air, as though suddenly struck by an idea.
"He is certainly touched in the head," thought Manette, the housekeeper.
"Look at that stupid expression. Who in his senses would lead the life
he does?" She touched him on the shoulder, and bawled in his ear, as if
he were deaf,--"You do not eat. Are you not hungry?"
"Yes, yes," muttered he, trying mechanically to escape the voice that
sounded in his ears, "I am very hungry, for since the morning I have
been obliged--" He interrupted himself, remaining with his mouth open,
his eyes fixed on vacancy.
"You were obliged--?" repeated Manette.
"Thunder!" cried he, raising his clenched fists towards the
ceiling,--"heaven's thunder! I have it!"
His movement was so violent and sudden that the housekeeper was a little
alarmed, and retired to the further end of the dining-room, near the
door.
Pages:
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72