If I want more! The bowl of soup was swallowed in a few seconds. When I put down the soup, Lise, who had remained standing before me, heaved a little sigh of content. Then she took my bowl and held it out to her father to have it refilled, and when it was full she brought it to me with such a sweet smile, that in spite of my hunger, I sat staring at her, without thinking to take it from her. The second bowlful disappeared promptly like the first. It was no longer a smile that curved Lise's pretty lips; she burst out laughing.
"Well, my boy," said her father, "you've got an appetite and no mistake."
I was much ashamed, but after a moment I thought it better to confess the truth than to be thought a glutton, so I told them that I had not had any supper the night before.
"And dinner?"
"No dinner, either."
"And your master?"
"He hadn't eaten, either."
"Then he died as much from starvation as from cold."
The hot soup had given me strength. I got up to go.
"Where are you going?" asked the father.
"I don't know."
"Got any friends or relations in Paris?"
"No."
