THE FEELINGS OF AN ARTIST
From 'M. Poirier's Son-in-Law'
Poirier [alone]--How vexatious he is, that son-in-law of mine! and there's no way to get rid of him. He'll die a nobleman, for he will do nothing and he is good for nothing.--There's no end to the money he costs me.--He is master of my house.--I'll put a stop to it. [He rings. Enter a servant.] Send up the porter and the cook. We shall see my son-in-law! I have set up my back. I've unsheathed my velvet paws. You will make no concessions, eh, my fine gentleman? Take your comfort! I will not yield either: you may remain marquis, and I will again become a bourgeois. At least I'll have the pleasure of living to my fancy.
The Porter--Monsieur has sent for me?
Poirier--Yes, François, Monsieur has sent for you. You can put the sign on the door at once.
The Porter--The sign?
Poirier--"To let immediately, a magnificent apartment on the first floor, with stables and carriage houses."
The Porter--The apartment of Monsieur le Marquis?
Poirier--You have said it, François.
The Porter--But Monsieur le Marquis has not given the order.
Poirier--Who is the master here, donkey? Who owns this mansion?
The Porter--You, Monsieur.
Poirier--Then do what I tell you without arguing.
The Porter--Yes, Monsieur. [Enter Vatel.]
Poirier--Go, François. [Exit Porter.] Come in, Monsieur Vatel: you are getting up a big dinner for to-morrow?
Vatel--Yes, Monsieur, and I venture to say that the menu would not be disowned by my illustrious ancestor himself. It is really a work of art, and Monsieur Poirier will be astonished.
Poirier--Have you the menu with you?
Vatel--No, Monsieur, it is being copied; but I know it by heart.
Poirier--Then recite it to me.
Vatel--Le potage aux ravioles à l'Italienne et le potage à l'orge à la Marie Stuart.
Poirier--You will replace these unknown concoctions by a good meat soup, with some vegetables on a plate.
Vatel--What, Monsieur?
Poirier--I mean it. Go on.
Vatel--Relevé. La carpe du Rhin à la Lithuanienne, les poulardes à la Godard--le filet de boeuf braisé aux raisins à la Napolitaine, le jambon de Westphalie, rotie madère.
Poirier--Here is a simpler and far more sensible fish course: brill with caper sauce--then Bayonne ham with spinach, and a savory stew of bird, with well-browned rabbit.
Vatel--But, Monsieur Poirier--I will never consent.
Poirier--I am master--do you hear? Go on.
Vatel--Entrées. Les filets de volaille à la concordat--les croustades de truffe garniés de foies à la royale, le faison étoffe à la Montpensier, les perdreaux rouges farcis à la bohemienne.
Poirier--In place of these side dishes we will have nothing at all, and we will go at once to the roast,--that is the only essential.
Vatel--That is against the precepts of art.
Poirier--I'll take the blame of that: let us have your roasts.
Vatel--It is not worth while, Monsieur: my ancestor would have run his sword through his body for a less affront. I offer my resignation.
Poirier--And I was about to ask for it, my good friend; but as one has eight days to replace a servant--
Vatel--A servant, Monsieur? I am an artist!
Poirier--I will fill your place by a woman. But in the mean time, as you still have eight days in my service, I wish you to prepare my menu.
Vatel--I will blow my brains out before I dishonor my name.
Poirier [aside]--Another fellow who adores his name! [Aloud.] You may burn your brains, Monsieur Vatel, but don't burn your sauces.--Well, bon jour! [Exit Vatel.] And now to write invitations to my old cronies of the Rue des Bourdonnais. Monsieur le Marquis de Presles, I'll soon take the starch out of you.
[He goes out whistling the first couplet of 'Monsieur and Madame Denis.']