read and cheese. I do not like
the _veau_," I said, with the testiness of a hungry man disappointed.
As I spoke, my eyes were on the boy, who ate his breast of chicken
daintily. Pretty as he was, I should have liked to kick him.

"Little brat," I apostrophised him once more, in my mind. "If he were
not a pig, he would ask me to accept half his meal. Not that I would
take it. I'd be shot first, so he'd be quite safe; but he might have
the decency to offer."

Worse was to come, however. I had not yet plumbed the black depths of
the Brat's selfishness.

"Certainly, Monsieur; we have very good cheese," madame assured me
soothingly. "If Monsieur would be pleased to step downstairs."

"I should prefer to remain here," I replied. "This is the room, is it
not, where Napoleon had his _dejeuner_?"

"The same, Monsieur, in every particular. But unfortunately, it is for
the moment the private sitting-room of this young gentleman, who has
made me an extra price to keep it for himself."

The poor old lady suffered manifest distress in breaking this news to
me, and even in my evil mood I could not add intentionally to her
pain. As for it cause, however, he sat absolutely unmoved. I think,
indeed, from the blue light in his great eyes (which was absolutely
impish), that the situation whetted his appetite. I did not deign
another glance at the little wretch, as I went out, discomfited, but I
felt that he was grinning at my back.

In a room below, I had a very creditable meal, which I should have
enjoyed more, had my nerves not been jarred to viciousness. In the
midst, I heard footsteps running downstairs, and presently outside the
door of the _salle-a-manger_ the boy's voice--sweet still with
childish cadences, as a boy's is before the change to manhood first
breaks, then deepens it.

"If he comes in here, I shall be inclined to throw a rind of cheese at
his head," I thought; but he did not beard me in my den. The voice
passed away, and presently I heard another, unmistakably that of a
woman, giving vent to strange profanities in softest Provencal French.
The speaker was apostrophising some person or animal, who was,
according to her, the most insupportable of Heaven's creatures; and at
last, with calls upon martyred saints, and cries of "Fanny-anny,
Fanny-anny," there mingled a scuffling and trotting which soon died
away in the distance, leaving stillness.

Soon after, having finished my meal, and paid my bill, I went out to