San-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams Part 103

"But tell me, my dear, is there anything new? Have you had no news?"

"Of whom?"

"You know to whom I refer."

"Oh! yes, I understand; but, really, my adventure with Monsieur Adhemar has made me entirely forget the person you speak of. No, thank heaven, I haven't seen him again!"

"I am so glad! when I think of him, do you know, I am always afraid for you."

"What a child you are!"

At that moment, Madame Mirotaine II entered the room.

"Your father's asking for you, Juliette," she said.--"Ah! your servant, madame! excuse me for disturbing you."

"Not at all, madame; I was just going when you came in; in any event, I would not keep Juliette from obeying her father's summons.--Au revoir, dear girl!"

As Nathalie kissed her, Juliette whispered in her ear:

"Come to see me after the famous dinner; I will tell you the result."

"Very well; and I will tell you if--I have seen him again."

"Madame, I have the honor to salute you."

"Present my compliments to Monsieur Mirotaine, if you please!"

"I will not fail, madame."

V

SMALL DISHES IN LARGE ONES

The day of the famous dinner party had arrived, and everything was in confusion at Monsieur Mirotaine's, where the entertainment of strangers was a most extraordinary thing. From ten o'clock in the morning, the master of the house had been parading his apartments, going constantly from the dining-room to the kitchen and back, and heaving profound sighs at sight of the preparations for the repast. Seeing Goth, his young maid-servant, take something from the sideboard, he stopped her, saying:

"What's that you're taking?"

"Pepper, monsieur."

"What for?"

"To put in the sauce piquante I am making."

"What's the use of a sauce piquante?"

"Why, it's to eat with your joint, monsieur,--your rib of beef. A fillet would have been tenderer, but monsieur wouldn't have that."

"Why not ortolans, and have done with it? You people have sworn to ruin me to-day! Mon Dieu! such profusion, such waste! Leave the pepper there--you don't need it."

At this point, Madame Mirotaine appeared on the scene.

"What's the matter with you, my dear?" she asked.

"Monsieur won't let me have the pepper," said Goth; "but I must have some for my sauces."

"What are you thinking about, my dear? Don't you want anything to be good?"

"I want--I want you to stop throwing my money out of the window. Every minute this girl has to have something new--salt or pepper. It's enough to break a man's heart!"

"Well, monsieur, I'd like to know why I don't have a supply of such things in my kitchen, like the cooks do in all decent houses?--And, madame, I must have some pickles too, and some capers for the white sauce for the fish."

"We must send out for some."

"Not by any means; it's all unnecessary. What's the good of capers? You have plenty of mustard here."

"But, monsieur, you don't put mustard in a white sauce."

"Make it red, then."

"My dear, if you don't let us have what we need for dinner, everything will be horrid; and then you will certainly have spent money uselessly, instead of doing yourself credit."

Monsieur Mirotaine took an old bandanna handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes, muttering:

"You make me do crazy things, Aldegonde!--What are you going to have for dinner, anyhow?"

"In the first place, we have a julienne soup."

"What does _julienne_ mean?"

"Vegetables cut fine."

"Oho! vegetables at the very beginning! What next?"

"There will be b.u.t.ter and radishes on the table."

"That makes two courses."

"No, those are hors-d'uvre; they don't count."

"_Don't count_ is good! they have to be paid for, all the same!"

"The next course to the soup is always fish."

"Are you sure that you couldn't possibly have the soup without it?"