No one can tell why kisses and tears began to rain down again, but it certainly did seem as if he had once more just returned.
"Soup!" cried Gothon.
Madame Renault took the arm of her son, contrary to all the laws of etiquette, and without even apologizing to the honored guests present.
She scarcely excused herself, even, for helping the son before the company.

Leon let her have her own way, and took it all smilingly: there was not a guest there who was not ready to upset his soup over his waistcoat rather than taste it before Leon.
"Mother!" cried Leon, spoon in hand, "this is the first time for three years that I've tasted good soup." Madame Renault felt herself blush with satisfaction, and Gothon was so overcome that she dropped a plate.
Both fancied that possibly he had spoken to please their self-conceit; but nevertheless he spoke truly.

There are two things in this world which a man does not often find away from home: the first is good soup; the second is disinterested love.
If I should attempt here an accurate enumeration of all the dishes that appeared on the table, there would not be one of my readers whose mouth would not water.

I believe, indeed, that more than one delicate lady would be in danger of an attack of indigestion.

Suppose, if you please, that such a list would reach nearly to the end of the volume, leaving me but a single page on which to write the marvellous history of Fougas.
Therefore I forthwith return to the parlor, where coffee is already served.
Leon took scarcely half of his cup: but do not let that lead you to infer that the coffee was too hot, or too cold, or too sweet.