Frederick, with the smile of a criminal about to be executed, beckoned to the gentleman to take a seat.
The Maréchale began to run her eye through the bill of fare, stopping at every fantastic name.
"Suppose we eat a turban of rabbits à la Richeliéu and a pudding à la d'Orléans?"[13]
"Oh! not Orléans, pray!" exclaimed Cisy, who was a Legitimist, and thought of making a pun.
"Would you prefer a turbot à la Chambord?" she next asked.
Frederick was disgusted with this display of politeness.
The Maréchale made up her mind to order a simple fillet of beef cut up into steaks, some crayfishes, truffles, a pine-apple salad, and vanilla ices.
"We'll see what next. Go on for the present! Ah! I was forgetting! Bring me a sausage!—not with garlic!"
And she called the waiter "young man," struck her glass with her knife, and flung up the crumbs of her bread to the ceiling. She wished to drink some Burgundy immediately.
"It is not taken in the beginning," said Frederick.