THE  LUNCHEON by  W. Somerset Maugham 

       I caught sight of her at the play, and in answer to her beckoning I
       went over during the interval and sat down beside her. It was long since I
       had last seen her, and if someone had not mentioned her name I hardly 
       think I would have recognised her. She addressed me brightly.
5      "Well, it's many years since we first met. How time does fly! We're 
       none of us getting any younger. Do you remember the first time I saw you? 
       You asked me to luncheon. "
       Did I remember?
       It was twenty years ago and I was living in Paris. I had a tiny apart-
10     ment in the Latin Quarter overlooking a cemetery, and I was earning barely 
       enough money to keep body and soul together. She had read a book of mine 
       and had written to me about it. I answered, thanking her, and presently I 
       received from her another letter saying that she was passing through Paris
       and would like to have a chat with me; but her time was limited, and the 
15     only free moment she had was on the following Thursday; she was spending 
       the morning at the Luxembourg and would I give her a little luncheon at 
       Foyot's afterwards? Foyot's is a restaurant at which the French senators
       eat, and it was so far beyond my means that I had never even thought of 
       going there. But I was flattered, and I was too young to have learned to say
20     no to a woman. (Few men, I may add, learn this until they are too old to 
       make it of any consequence to a woman what they say.) I had eighty francs
       (gold francs) to last me the rest of the month, and a modest luncheon 
       should not cost more than fifteen. If I cut out coffee for the next two 
       weeks I could manage well enough.
25     I answered that I would meet my friend --- by correspondence --- at 
       Foyot's on Thursday at half past twelve. She was not so young as I expect-
       ed and in appearance imposing rather than attractive. She was, in fact, a 
       woman of forty (a charming age, but not one that excites a sudden and 
       devastating passion at first sight), and she gave me the impression of hav-
30     ing more teeth, white and large and even, than were necessary for any 
       practical purpose. She was talkative, but since she seemed inclined to talk
       about me I was prepared to be an attentive listener.
       I was startled when the bill of fare was brought, for the prices were a
       great deal higher than I had anticipated. But she reassured me.
35     "I never eat anything for luncheon, " she said. 
       "Oh, don't say that ! " I answered generously.
       "I never eat more than one thing. I think people eat far too much 
       nowadays: A little fish, perhaps. I wonder if they have any salmon. " 
       Well, it was early in the year for salmon and it was not on the bill of
40     fare, but I asked the waiter if there was any. Yes, a beautiful salmon had
       just come in, it was the first they had had. I ordered it for my guest. The
       waiter asked her if she would have something while it was being cooked.
       "No , " she answered, "I never eat more than one thing. Unless you have
       a little caviare. I never mind caviare. "
45     My heart sank a little. I knew I could not afford caviare, but I could
       not very well tell her that. I told the waiter by all means to bring 
       caviare. For myself I chose the cheapest dish on the menu and that was a 
       mutton chop.
       "I think you are unwise to eat meat, " she said. "I don't know how you 
50     can expect to work after eating heavy things like chops. I don't believe in
       overloading my stomach. "
       Then came the question of drink.
       "I never drink anything for luncheon, " she said. 
       "Neither do I, " I answered promptly.
55     "Except white wine," she proceeded as though I had not spoken. "These 
       French white wines are so light. They're wonderful for the digestion . "
       "What would you like?" I asked, hospitable still, but not exactly effu-
       sive.
       She gave me a bright and amicable flash of her white teeth. 
60     "My doctor won't let me drink anything but champagne. "
       I fancy I turned a trifle pale. I ordered half a bottle. I mentioned 
       casually that my doctor had absolutely forbidden me to drink champagne. 
       "What are you going to drink, then?"
       "Water. "
65     She ate the caviare and she ate the salmon. She talked gaily of art and
       literature and music. But I wondered what the bill would come to. When my
       mutton chop arrived she took me quite seriously to task.
       "I see that you're in the habit of eating a heavy luncheon. I'm  sure 
       it's a mistake. Why don't you follow my example and just eat one thing? 
70     I'm sure you'd feel ever so much better for it. "
       "I am only going to eat one thing, " I said, as the waiter came again
       with the bill of fare.
       She  waved him aside with an airy gesture.
       "No, no, I never eat anything for luncheon. Just a bite, I never want
75     more than that, and I eat that more as an excuse for conversation than any-
       thing else. I couldn't possibly eat anything more unless they had some of
       those giant asparagus. I should be sorry to leave Paris without having some
       of them. "
       My heart sank. I had seen them in the shops, and I knew that they 
80     were horribly expensive. My mouth had often watered at the sight of them.
       "Madame wants to know if you have any of those giant asparagus, " I 
       asked the waiter.
       I tried with all my might to will him to say no. A happy smile spread 
85     over his broad, priest-like face, and he assured me that they had some so
       large, so splendid, so tender, that it was a marvel.
       "I'm not in the least hungry, " my guest sighed, "but if you insist I 
       don't mind having some asparagus. "
90     I ordered them.
       "Aren't you going to have any?" 
       "No, I never eat asparagus. "
       "I know there are people who don't like them. The fact is, you ruin 
       your taste by all the meat you eat. "
95     We waited for the asparagus to be cooked. Panic seized me. It was not
       a question now how much money I should have left over for the rest of the 
       month, but whether I had enough to pay the bill. It would be embarrassing
       to find myself ten francs short and be obliged to borrow from my guest. I
       could not bring myself to do that. I knew exactly how much I had, and if
100    the bill came to more I made up my mind that I would put my hand in my 
       pocket and with a dramatic cry start up and say it had been picked. Of 
       course, it would be awkward if she had not money enough either to pay the 
       bill. Then the only thing would be to leave my watch and say I would come
       back and pay later.
105    The asparagus appeared. They were enormous, juicy, and appetising. I 
       watched the wicked woman thrust them down her throat in large mouthfuls, 
       and in my polite way I spoke about the condition of the drama in the 
       Balkans. At last she finished.
      "Coffee?" I said.
110     "Yes, just an ice-cream and coffee, " she answered.
       I was past caring now, so I ordered coffee for myself and an ice-cream
       and coffee for her.
       "You know, there's one thing I thoroughly believe in, " she said, as
       she ate the ice-cream. "One should always get up from a meal feeling one 
115    could eat a little more. "
       "Are you still hungry?" I asked faintly.
       "Oh, no, I'm not hungry; you see, I don't eat luncheon. I have a cup 
       of coffee in the morning and then dinner, but I never eat more than one 
       thing for luncheon. I was speaking for you. "
120    "Oh, I see! "
       Then a terrible thing happened. While we were waiting for the coffee 
       the head waiter, with an ingratiating smile on his false face, came up to us 
       bearing a large basket full of huge peaches. They had  the blush of an inno-
       cent girl; they had the rich tone of an Italian landscape. But surely 
125    peaches were not in season then? Lord knew what they cost. I knew too - a
       little later, for my guest, going on with her conversation, absentmindedly
       took one.
       "You see, you've filled your stomach with a lot of meat" --- my one 
       miserable little chop--- "and you can't eat any more. But I've just had a 
130    snack and I shall enjoy a peach. "  
       The bill came, and when I paid it I found that I had only enough for a
       quite inadequate tip. Her eyes rested for an instant on the three francs 
       I left for the waiter, and I knew that she thought me mean. But when  I 
       walked out of the restaurant I had the whole month before me  and not a 
135    penny in my pocket.  
       "Follow my example, " she said as we shook hands, "and never eat more
       than one thing for luncheon. "
       "I'll do better than that, " I retorted. " I'll eat nothing for dinner
       tonight. "
140    "Humorist!" she cried gaily, jumping into a cab. "You're quite a hu- 
       morist ! "
       But I have had my revenge at last. I do not believe that I am a vindic-
       tive man, but when the immortal gods take a hand in the matter it is par-
       donable to observe the result with complacency. Today she weighs twenty- 
145    one stone
