What is the matter now?”
Léon was examining a black pudding with an expression akin to loathing on his face.
“Monseigneur, this—” he pointed disdainfully at the pudding—“this is not for people to eat! Bah!”
“Is aught amiss with it?” inquired his Grace.
“Everything!” said Léon crushingly. “First I am made to feel sick upon that ship, and then I am made to feel sick again by an evil—pudding, you call it? Voyons, it is a good name! Pig-pudding! Monseigneur, you must not eat it! It will make you——”
“Pray do not describe my probable symptoms as well as your own, infant. You have certainly been prodigiously ill-used, but endeavour to forget it! Eat one of those sweetmeats.”
Léon selected one of the little cakes, and started to nibble it.
“Do you always eat these things in England, Monseigneur?” he asked, pointing to the beef and the puddings.
“Invariably, my infant.”
“I think it would be better if we did not stay very long here,” said Léon firmly.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Léon at table
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