"My dear young lady," he called out, "will you do me the honour to say
whether you ever heard of a cook of the name of Vattel?"
Eve laughed, and her sweet tones were infectious amid the dull howling of
the gale, which was constantly heard in the cabins, like a bass
accompaniment, or the distant roar of a cataract among the singing
of birds.
"Certainly, captain," she answered; "Mr. Vattel was not only a cook, but
perhaps the most celebrated on record, for sentiment at least, if not
for skill."
"I make no doubt the man did his work well, let him be set about what he
might; and, mademoiselle, he was a countryman of yours, they tell me?"
"_Assurement_, Monsieur Vattel has left more distinguished _souvenirs_
than any other cook in France."
Captain Truck turned quickly to the elated and admiring Saunders, who felt
his own glory enhanced by this important discovery, and said in that
short-hand way he had of expressing himself to the chief of the pantry,
"Do you hear that, sir; see and find out what they are, and dress me a
dish of these _souvenirs_ as soon as we get in. I dare say they are to be
had at the Fulton market, and mind while there to look out for some
tongues and sounds. I've not made half a supper to-night, for the want of
them. I dare say these _souvenirs_ are capital eating, if Monsieur Vattel
thought so highly of them.
Pages:
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228