The cardinal smiled, and with a stolen glance at the small box that contained the portrait of this beautiful nun, he said: “Spare some of the walks in the alleys from your sea of light, and leave them in partial obscurity. A little duskiness is sometimes necessary for joy and happiness! But how is it with your carte du diner? What has Signor Gianettino to offer us? I hope he has something very choice, for you know the cardinals like a good table, and my friend Duke Grimaldi has a high opinion of our cuisine.”
“Ah, the Spanish ambassador, your excellency?” exclaimed Brunelli, contemptuously. “The Spanish ambassador knows nothing of the art of cookery, or he would not possibly be satisfied with his cook! He is a niggard, a poor fellow, of whom all Rome is speaking to-day, and laughing at him and his master, while they are praising you to the skies!”
And Signor Brunelli related to his listening master the whole story of the gigantic fish, and of the humiliation of the Spanish cook.
The cardinal listened with attention, and a dark cloud gradually gathered upon his thoughtful brow.
“That is a very unfortunate occurrence,” said he, shaking his head, as Brunelli ended.
“But at least it was an occurrence in which France triumphed, your excellency,” responded Brunelli.
“I much fear the Duke of Grimaldi will do as you have done,” said the cardinal; “he will confound my cook with France, and in his cook see all Spain insulted.”
“Then your excellency is not satisfied?” asked Brunelli, with consternation. “The whole palace is full of jubilation; all the servants and lackeys and even the secretary of the legation are delighted with this divine affair!”
The cardinal paid no attention to these panegyrics of his major-domo, but thoughtfully paced the room with long strides.
“And you think Gianettino had the right of it?” at length he asked.