The legal business
being all disposed of by two o'clock, we four would approach the
great ceremony of the day, the midday dinner, with tense
expectancy. The President could never keep out of the kitchen,
from which he returned with most assuring reports: "Cette fois ca
y est, mes amis," he would jubilantly exclaim, rubbing his hands,
and even "Papa Charron" himself bearing in the first dish, his
face scorched scarlet from his cooking-stove, would confidently
aver that "MM. les juges seront contents aujourd'hui."
The crowning seal of approbation was always put on by M. Ducros,
who, after tasting the masterpiece, would cry exultantly, "Bravo!
Slop-basin! Slop-basin!" should it fulfil his expectations. I have
previously explained that M. Ducros' solitary word of English
expressed supreme satisfaction, whilst his friends looked on, with
unconcealed admiration at their colleague's linguistic powers. It
sounds like a record of three gormandising middle-aged men; but it
was not quite that, though, like most French people, they
appreciated artistic cookery.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202