My mind is scarce inclined to dwell on thoughts of supper." Brogard was slowly pursuing his gruesome preparations; he had placed a couple of spoons, also two glasses on the table, both of which Sir Andrew took the precaution of wiping carefully.
Brogard had also produced a bottle of wine and some bread, and Marguerite made an effort to draw her chair to the table and to make some pretence at eating.

Sir Andrew, as befitting his ROLE of lacquey, stood behind her chair.
"Nay, Madame, I pray you," he said, seeing that Marguerite seemed quite unable to eat, "I beg of you to try and swallow some food--remember you have need of all your strength." The soup certainly was not bad; it smelt and tasted good.

Marguerite might have enjoyed it, but for the horrible surroundings.

She broke the bread, however, and drank some of the wine.
"Nay, Sir Andrew," she said, "I do not like to see you standing.

You have need of food just as much as I have.