As appetites increased, their spirits fell; no inn, no wine shop could be discovered, the approach of the Prussians and the transit of the starving French troops having frightened away all business.

The men sought food in the farmhouses beside the road, but could not find so much as a crust of bread; for the suspicious peasant invariably hid his stores for fear of being pillaged by the soldiers, who, being entirely without food, would take violent possession of everything they found.

About one o’clock Loiseau announced that he positively had a big hollow in his stomach.  They had all been suffering in the same way for some time, and the increasing gnawings of hunger had put an end to all conversation.

Now and then some one yawned, another followed his example, and each in turn, according to his character, breeding and social position, yawned either quietly or noisily, placing his hand before the gaping void whence issued breath condensed into vapor.

Several times Boule de Suif stooped, as if searching for something under her petticoats.  She would hesitate a moment, look at her neighbors, and then quietly sit upright again.  All faces were pale and drawn.  Loiseau declared he would give a thousand francs for a knuckle of ham.  His wife made an involuntary and quickly checked gesture of protest.  It always hurt her to hear of money being squandered, and she could not even understand jokes on such a subject.

“As a matter of fact, I don’t feel well,” said the count.  “Why did I not think of bringing provisions?” Each one reproached himself in similar fashion.

Cornudet, however, had a bottle of rum, which he offered to his neighbors.  They all coldly refused except Loiseau, who took a sip, and returned the bottle with thanks, saying:  “That’s good stuff; it warms one up, and cheats the appetite.”  The alcohol put him in good humor, and he proposed they should do as the sailors did in the song:  eat the fattest of the passengers.  This indirect allusion to Boule de Suif shocked the respectable members of the party.  No one replied; only Cornudet smiled.  The two good sisters had ceased to mumble their rosary, and, with hands enfolded in their wide sleeves, sat motionless, their eyes steadfastly cast down, doubtless offering up as a sacrifice to Heaven the suffering it had sent them.

At last, at three o’clock, as they were in the midst of an apparently limitless plain, with not a single village in sight, Boule de Suif stooped quickly, and drew from underneath the seat a large basket covered with a white napkin.

From this she extracted first of all a small earthenware plate and a silver drinking cup, then an enormous dish containing two whole chickens cut into joints and imbedded in jelly.  The basket was seen to contain other good things:  pies, fruit, dainties of all sorts-provisions, in fine, for a three days’ journey, rendering their owner independent of wayside inns.  The necks of four bottles protruded from among the food.  She took a chicken wing, and began to eat it daintily, together with one of those rolls called in Normandy “Regence.”