"Well, au revoir! Now I must go to make my stew."
All day long I saw before my eyes the body of the poor little ferret, lying there on the sandy path.
This evening, at dinner, when dessert was being served, Madame said to me, very severely:
"If you like prunes, you have only to ask me for them; I will see if I can give you any; but I forbid you to take them."
"I am not a thief, Madame, and I do not like prunes."
"I tell you that you have taken some prunes."
"If Madame thinks me a thief, Madame has only to pay me and let me go."
Madame snatched the plate of prunes from my hand.
"Monsieur ate five this morning; there were thirty-two; now there are but twenty-five; then you have taken two. Don't let that happen again."
It was true. I had eaten two of them. She had counted them!
Did you ever in your life?