Lady Poronte reached us, smiled at us, and then looked puzzled at the empty place before me. As if she were talking to a child, she wheedled in dismay, “Could not you find anything to tempt your appetite, Nevare? Is there something I could ask our cook to prepare for you?”

“Oh, no, but many thanks, Lady Poronte. Everything looked and smelled so wonderful, I did not trust myself to make a choice. I’m sure the serving man will be here directly.”

Then came the final blow to my dignity and to my father’s pride. The serving man arrived with my food. He carried a filled platter on each arm.

Not two plates, but two platters, and each were laden to overflowing. Meat of every kind was heaped on one, slices of ham, half a smoked chicken, slices of beef cut so thin that they folded into ripples, tender lamb cutlets, each mounded with a spoonful of quivering mint jelly, and a spicy pâté ensconced on a special round of bread. On the other platter was the extreme opposite of my request for a simple roll of bread. There were two croissants, a scone, two muffins, rye bread in dark rounds nestled against its paler wheaten cousin, and dumplings in a ladling of rich brown gravy.

Grinning as if he had accomplished some marvelous feat, the serving man placed both platters before me. He bowed, well pleased with himself.

“Never fear, sir. I know how to properly serve a man like yourself. As you requested, only meat and only bread. I shall return immediately with your wine, sir.” He turned with a flourish and left me surrounded by food. I stared at the wealth of bread and meat before me. I knew my father was aghast at my wanton display of gluttony. My shocked hostess was striving to look pleased. Worse, I knew that I could consume every bite of it with relish and pleasure. My mouth was running with so much saliva that I had to swallow before I could speak. “This is far too much food. I asked for a small portion of meat and bread.”

But the serving man had already hastened away. I could not stop looking at the food, and I knew that no one at the table believed me. “But it is a wedding!” Lady Poronte ventured at last. “And surely if there is a time to celebrate in plenty, it is at a wedding.”

She meant well. She probably intended to put me at my ease over possessing such an undisciplined appetite and displaying such wanton greed at her table. But it put me in a very strange social situation. If I only sampled a tiny portion of the food now, would it appear that I had disdained her hospitality, or found her cook lacking in talent? I did not know what to do.

“It all looks absolutely wonderful to me, especially after the very plain food they serve us at the academy,” I ventured. I did not pick up my fork. I wished they would all vanish. I could not eat with them watching me. Yet I also knew I could not refuse to eat, either.