To my great joy this food was limited to coffee and cake: I had feared wine and sweets, which I did not like.

How he guessed that I should like a _petit pate a la creme_ I cannot tell; but he went out and procured me one from some quarter.

With considerable willingness I ate and drank, keeping the _petit pate_ till the last, as a _bonne bouche_.

M.Paul superintended my repast, and almost forced upon me more than I could swallow.
"A la bonne heure," he cried, when I signified that I really could take no more, and, with uplifted hands, implored to be spared the additional roll on which he had just spread butter.

"You will set me down as a species of tyrant and Bluebeard, starving women in a garret; whereas, after all, I am no such thing.