"You might taste it and see, sir," he said, with a smile. "It is one of a lot especially prepared for Jupiter."
I put the thing in my mouth, and oh, the sensation that followed! I have eaten melons, and I have dreamed melons, but never in either experience was there to be found such an ecstasy of taste as I now got.
"Another, Memnon—another!" I cried.
"If you wish, sir," said he. "But very imprudent, sir. That wafer was constructed from six hundred of the choicest—"
"Quite right," said I, realizing the situation; "quite right. Six hundred melons are enough for any man. What do you propose to give me now?"
"Oeufs Midas," said Memnon.
"Sounds rather rich," I observed.
"It would cost you 4,650,000 francs for a half portion at a Paris café, if you could get it there—which you can't."
"And what, Memnon," said I, "is the peculiarity of eggs Midas?"
"It's nothing but an omelet, sir," he replied; "but it is made of eggs laid by the goose of whom you have probably read in the Personal Recollections of Jack the Giant-Killer. They are solid gold."