"Hey, my friend!" said Sir Andrew at last, "we should like
some supper. . . . The citoyenne there," he added, "is concocting
some delicious soup, I'll warrant, and my mistress has not tasted food
for several hours.
It took Brogard some few minutes to consider the question. A
free citizen does not respond too readily to the wishes of those who
happen to require something of him.
"SACRRRES ARISTOS!" he murmured, and once more spat upon the
ground.
Then he went very slowly up to a dresser which stood in a
corner of the room; from this he took an old pewter soup-tureen and
slowly, and without a word, he handed it to his better-half, who, in
the same silence, began filling the tureen with the soup out of her
stock-pot.
Marguerite had watched all these preparations with absolute
horror; were it not for the earnestness of her purpose, she would
incontinently have fled from this abode of dirt and evil smells.
"Faith! our host and hostess are not cheerful people," said
Sir Andrew, seeing the look of horror on Marguerite's face. "I would
I could offer you a more hearty and more appetising meal.
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