We had exquisite wines, and at dessert some ratafia superior to the Turkish ‘visnat’ I had tasted seventeen years before at Yussuf Ali’s. When my landlord came up at the end of supper, I told him that he ought to be Louis XV.’s head cook.
“Go on as you have begun, and do better if you can; but let me have your bill every morning.”
“You are quite right; with such an arrangement one can tell how one is getting on.”
“I should like you always to give me ices, and you must let me have two more lights. But, unless I am mistaken, those are candles that I see. I am a Venetian, and accustomed to wax lights.”
“That is your servant’s fault, sir.”
“How is that?”
“Because, after eating a good supper, he went to bed, saying he was ill. Thus I heard nothing as to how you liked things done.”
“Very good, you shall learn from my own lips.”
“He asked my wife to make chocolate for you tomorrow morning; he gave her the chocolate, I will make it myself.”
When he had left the room M. de Valenglard said, in a manner that was at the same time pleased and surprised, that Madame d’Urfe had been apparently joking in telling him to spare me all expense.