“And you have sent to seek this bottle for me!” cried the old marshal.
“For you, your grace,” replied the maître-d’hôtel, in a tone which plainly said, “ungrateful as you are.”
The Duke de Richelieu seized the hand of the old servant and cried, “I beg pardon; you are the king of maîtres d’hôtel.”
“And you would have dismissed me,” he replied, with an indescribable shrug of his shoulders.
“Oh, I will pay you one hundred pistoles for this bottle of wine.”
“And the expenses of its coming here will be another hundred; but you will grant that it is worth it.”
“I will grant anything you please, and, to begin, from to-day I double your salary.”
“I seek no reward, your grace; I have but done my duty.”
“And when will your courier arrive?”
“Your grace may judge if I have lost time: on what day did I have my orders for the dinner?”