"
"And yet Vattel was one of the most celebrated cooks of his day."
Captain Truck stared, looked his grave companion steadily in the eye, for
he was too much addicted to mystifying, not to distrust others, and picked
his teeth with redoubled vigilance.
"Vattel a cook! This is the first I ever heard of it."
"There was a Vattel, in a former age, who stood at the head of his art as
a cook; this I can assure you, on my honour: he may not have been your
Vattel, however."
"Sir, there never were two Vattels. This is extraordinary news to me, and
I scarcely know how to receive it."
"If you doubt my information, you may ask any of the other passengers.
Either of the Mr. Effinghams, or Mr. Blunt, or Miss Effingham, or
Mademoiselle Viefville will confirm what I tell you, I think; especially
the latter, for he was her countryman."
Hereupon Captain Truck began to stuff in the oakum again, for the calm
countenance of Mr. Sharp produced an effect; and as he was pondering on
the consequences of his oracle's turning out to be a cook, he thought it
not amiss to be eating, as it were, incidentally. After swallowing a dozen
olives, six or eight anchovies, as many pickled oysters, and raisins and
almonds, as the advertisements say _a volonte_, he suddenly struck his
fist on the table, and announced his intention of putting the question to
both the ladies.
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