“I am sorry, Monsieur le Marquis; I can detect nothing unusual,” politely responded the waiter, when he had concluded a pains-taking scrutiny with all the gravity and seriousness attending so momentous an investigation.
“You are blind!” exclaimed the old man. “See there; a spot of grease floating in the bouillon, and there, another and another! In fact, here is an ‘Archipelago of Greece!’” This witticism was relieved by an ironical smile. “Take it away!”
The waiter hurried off with the offending dish and the old man looked immensely satisfied over the disturbance he had created.
“Well has it been said,” thought the manager, “that the destiny of a nation depends upon the digestion of its first minister! I wonder what he’ll do next?”
Course after course that followed was rejected, the guest keeping up a running comment:
“This sauce is not properly prepared. This salad is not well mixed. I shall starve in this place. These truffles; spoiled in the importation!”
“Oh, Monsieur le Marquis,”––clasping his hands in despair––“they were preserved in melted paraffin.”
“What do I care about your paraffin? Never mind anything more, waiter. I could not eat a mouthful. What is the bill? Very well; and there is something for yourself, blockhead.”
“Thank you, Monsieur le Marquis.” Deferentially.