The dinner, four hours behind time, to which the husband, wife, and
child sat down, betrayed the financial straits in which the household
found itself, for the table is the surest thermometer for gauging the
income of a Parisian family. Vegetable soup made with the water
haricot beans had been boiled in, a piece of stewed veal and potatoes
sodden with water by way of gravy, a dish of haricot beans, and cheap
cherries, served and eaten in cracked plates and dishes, with the
dull-looking and dull-sounding forks of German silver--was this a
banquet worthy of this pretty young woman? The Baron would have wept
could he have seen it. The dingy decanters could not disguise the vile
hue of wine bought by the pint at the nearest wineshop. The
table-napkins had seen a week's use. In short, everything betrayed
undignified penury, and the equal indifference of the husband and wife
to the decencies of home. The most superficial observer on seeing them
would have said that these two beings had come to the stage when the
necessity of living had prepared them for any kind of dishonor that
might bring luck to them. Valerie's first words to her husband will
explain the delay that had postponed the dinner by the not
disinterested devotion of the cook.
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