Leaning on my manager who had taken the precaution of ordering up the dinner, I dragged myself as far as the dining-room.
Twilight had commenced, and the room was not yet lighted, and it was with some difficulty we could distinguish a table. I fell rather than sat down upon a chair I found near me, and while my son was ringing for lights, I commenced a second-sight performance of my own. I succeeded famously; I laid my hand on a fork, and pricking at whatever might be before me, found something attached to the instrument. I prudently raised the object to my nose, and, satisfied with this inspection, I took a triumphant bite.
It was delicious; and I fancied I could recognize a salmi of partridge.
I made a second exploring tour to assure myself of the truth, and, after a few mouthfuls, I convinced myself I was not mistaken. My manager and boys followed my example, and set to work manfully.
It seems that the attendance must be slow in royal houses, for before the lights arrived we had plenty of time to grow used to the darkness.
However, this meal, through its originality, became a delightful amusement, and I had seized a bottle to pour out some wine, when the door of the room suddenly opened, and two servants came in bearing candelabra. On seeing us thus seated at table and eating in the coolest way, they nearly fell backwards in surprise. I am persuaded they took us at the moment for real sorcerers, for we had great difficulty in inducing them to remain in the room and wait on us.
We then took our ease. The table was well served, the wines were excellent, and we could rest from the fatigues and emotions of the day. At the end of the dinner the palace steward paid us a visit, and on hearing of my misfortunes, he expressed his deep regret. The Queen, he assured me, would be the more vexed, if she heard of it, because she had given the strictest orders that I should want for nothing in her palace.
I replied, that I was amply repaid for a few moments of pain by the satisfaction I felt at having been called to perform before his gracious sovereign. And this was, indeed, the truth.
CHAPTER XIX.
An Optimist Manager—Three Spectators in a Room—A Magical Collation—The Colchester Public and the Nuts—I return to France—I give up my Theatre—A Farewell Tour—I retire to St. Gervais—An Academician’s Predictions.