At that advanced hour of the night hunger was of the nervous order only, a mere whimsical craving born of an exasperated stomach.
At Nana's side the old gentleman refused every dish offered him; he had only taken a spoonful of soup, and he now sat in front of his empty plate, gazing silently about.

There was some subdued yawning, and occasionally eyelids closed and faces became haggard and white.

It was unutterably slow, as it always was, according to Vandeuvres's dictum.
This sort of supper should be served anyhow if it was to be funny, he opined.

Otherwise when elegantly and conventionally done you might as well feed in good society, where you were not more bored than here.

Had it not been for Bordenave, who was still bawling away, everybody would have fallen asleep.