The soldier leaned farther and farther over the counter still demanding: "A leetle kees made in so lufly a tart."
Ha! An inspiration! Judy grasped the desired gooseberry tart and thrust the whole thing into her mouth. There was no time to ask the leave of Mère Tricot.
"_Ah quelle betise!_" exclaimed the dandy, and at the same moment he, too, remembered the young English demoiselle at Versailles. He straightened up and into his ogling eyes came a spark of shame. With a smile that changed his whole countenance he saluted Judy.
Judy's mouth was too full to attempt French but she managed to say in her mother tongue:
"Why do you come in a respectable place like this and behave just like a Prussian?"
"Prussian! Ah, Mademoiselle, excuse, excuse. I--the beauty of the _boutiquier_ made me forget _la Patrie_. I have been a roué, a fool. I am henceforth a Frenchman. Mademoiselle iss wan noble ladee. She efen mar her so great beauty to protec her dignitee. I remember ze _pain d'epice_ at Versailles and _la grande bouchée_. Mademoiselle has _le bel esprit_, what you call Mericanhumor. _Au revoir, Mademoiselle_," and with a very humble bow he departed, without buying anything at all.
The Tricots laughed very heartily when Judy told them her experience.
"I see you can take care of yourself," said Père Tricot with a nod of approval. "If the Prussians come, they had better look out."
"Do you forgive me for eating the last gooseberry tart?" she asked of Mère Tricot. "I was very glad of the excuse to get it before some one bought it from under my very nose."
Mother Tricot not only forgave her but produced another one for her that she had kept back for the guest she seemed to delight to honour.
"Our _boutiquier_ has sold out the shop," declared the old man. "I shall have to go to market very early in the morning to get more provisions cooked."
"Ah, another excuse for absenting thyself!"
"Oh, please, may I go with you?" begged Judy.
"It will mean very early rising, but I shall be so pleased," said the delighted old man, and his wife smiled approval.
It was arranged that Judy was to sleep on a couch in the living room. This suited her exactly, as she was able after the family had retired to rise stealthily and open a window. The French peasant and even the middle class Parisian is as afraid of air in a bedroom as we would be of a rattlesnake. They sleep as a rule in hermetically sealed chambers and there is a superstition even among the enlightened of that city that night air will give one some peculiar affection of the eyes. How they keep as healthy as they do is a wonder to those brought up on fresh air. Judy had feared that her sleeping would have to be done in the great bed with Marie and the baby and welcomed the proposition of the couch in the living room with joy. There was a smell of delicatessen wares but it was not unpleasing to one who had been economizing in food for so many days.