“Cutlet broiled! One!” exclaimed the waiter to the cook.
“Here is a queer servant,” said the young provincial, solus. Having obtained the cutlet, he devoted himself to it with an appetite sharpened by abstinence and exercise. After the dish had been finished, the waiter again began to run over his bill of fare; but Eusebe interrupted him with,—
“Give me another cutlet.”
“Would you not prefer fish of some kind,—salmon, river trout, or——”
“I prefer another cutlet.”
“Very well, monsieur. Chef, another cutlet—one!”
“The chef of this establishment is certainly deaf,” thought Eusebe; “and that is a disagreeable infirmity both for himself and for other people.”
After the second cutlet, Eusebe demanded a third, and then a piece of cheese. While he was eating his last piece of bread and drinking a glass of water, there was a sudden commotion in the room, and several persons ran to the windows. The provincial thought something extraordinary was in progress, and was all eyes and ears for the time. He could see nothing, at first, but the usual throng of vehicles and pedestrians. Then a tightly closed wagon, escorted by four gendarmes, attracted his attention. The wagon passed on; the persons in the restaurant returned to their seats, and the conversation became animated.
“It is unfortunate, beyond doubt,” said a large man with a white cravat, “but we cannot punish too severely those who are trying to bring about anarchy and disorder.”