It really was a case of casting pearls before swine! Those
ignorant hobbledehoys actually turned up their noses at the
admirable "Cotes du Rhone" wine, and begged for beer. In justice I
must add that we were none of us used to truffles or olives, nor
to the oil which replaces butter in Provencal cookery. Mlle.
Louise, the sister, was pained, but not surprised. She had never
left Nyons, and, from her experience of a long string of English
pupils, was convinced that all Englishmen were savages. They
inhabited an island enveloped in dense fog from year's end to
year's end. They had never seen the sun, and habitually lived on
half-raw "rosbif." It was only natural that such young barbarians
should fail to appreciate the cookery of so celebrated a cordon-
bleu, which term, I may add, is only applicable to a woman-cook,
and can never be used of a man. This truly admirable woman made us
terrines of truffled foie-gras such as even Strasburg could not
surpass, and gave them to us for breakfast. I blush to own that
those four benighted boys asked for eggs and bacon instead.
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