Then Boule de Suif, blushing and embarrassed, stammered, looking at the four passengers who were still fasting: 

“‘Mon Dieu’, if I might offer these ladies and gentlemen——­”

She stopped short, fearing a snub.  But Loiseau continued: 

“Hang it all, in such a case as this we are all brothers and sisters and ought to assist each other.  Come, come, ladies, don’t stand on ceremony, for goodness’ sake!  Do we even know whether we shall find a house in which to pass the night?  At our present rate of going we sha’n’t be at Totes till midday to-morrow.”

They hesitated, no one daring to be the first to accept.  But the count settled the question.  He turned toward the abashed girl, and in his most distinguished manner said: 

“We accept gratefully, madame.”

As usual, it was only the first step that cost.  This Rubicon once crossed, they set to work with a will.  The basket was emptied.  It still contained a pate de foie gras, a lark pie, a piece of smoked tongue, Crassane pears, Pont-Leveque gingerbread, fancy cakes, and a cup full of pickled gherkins and onions—­Boule de Suif, like all women, being very fond of indigestible things.

They could not eat this girl’s provisions without speaking to her.  So they began to talk, stiffly at first; then, as she seemed by no means forward, with greater freedom.  Mesdames de Breville and Carre-Lamadon, who were accomplished women of the world, were gracious and tactful.  The countess especially displayed that amiable condescension characteristic of great ladies whom no contact with baser mortals can sully, and was absolutely charming.  But the sturdy Madame Loiseau, who had the soul of a gendarme, continued morose, speaking little and eating much.

Conversation naturally turned on the war.  Terrible stories were told about the Prussians, deeds of bravery were recounted of the French; and all these people who were fleeing themselves were ready to pay homage to the courage of their compatriots.  Personal experiences soon followed, and Bottle le Suif related with genuine emotion, and with that warmth of language not uncommon in women of her class and temperament, how it came about that she had left Rouen.

“I thought at first that I should be able to stay,” she said.  “My house was well stocked with provisions, and it seemed better to put up with feeding a few soldiers than to banish myself goodness knows where.  But when I saw these Prussians it was too much for me!  My blood boiled with rage; I wept the whole day for very shame.  Oh, if only I had been a man!  I looked at them from my window—­the fat swine, with their pointed helmets!—­and my maid held my hands to keep me from throwing my furniture down on them.  Then some of them were quartered on me; I flew at the throat of the first one who entered.  They are just as easy to strangle as other men!  And I’d have been the death of that one if I hadn’t been dragged away from him by my hair.  I had to hide after that.  And as soon as I could get an opportunity I left the place, and here I am.”