“Indeed, Gretli, I shall grow fat!” cried Honor. “So fat that I can’t move, and shall have to stay here always. Wouldn’t that be lovely? How I wish I could!”
Gretli, arms akimbo, watching with satisfaction every mouthful Honor took, glowed responsive. For example! that would be a pleasure indeed for them; the honored Ladies, it was to be feared, would regard the matter differently. Ah! pardon! mademoiselle must not do that! unless the cheese was not to her taste?
Honor looked up wondering. “It is delicious!” she said. “I was only taking out these green spots, Gretli.”
“But—a thousand pardons, Mademoiselle Honor! The green spots, that is the best part of the cheese. He is an old one, you understand; ripe, but of a ripeness! I chose him with peculiar care, that mademoiselle might note the rich flavor that comes with age. With cheese as with man, my sainted mother used to say, the time of ripeness should be the best of life. Taste, then! but taste the green spot, mademoiselle! n’est-ce pas? Am I not right?”
Honor tasted the green cheese; gingerly at first, then with confidence, finally with eagerness.
“And I have always cut it out!” she lamented. “Why did no one ever tell me before? It is the best part, of course!”
“Mademoiselle resembles the good Emperor!” said Zitli, looking up with a smile.
“For example! of a surety!” exclaimed Gretli. “Tell her that, Zitli. I have to prepare the soupe.” She vanished into the house.
“What do you mean, Zitli?” asked Honor. “Why am I like an emperor, and how? And what emperor?”
“The Emperor Charlemagne; who else? That great and good prince was fond of cheese, as was natural in a person of taste. There is an old story that traveling once through our beloved country, he came to the dwelling of a certain bishop and there took shelter for the night. The day was Friday; the good bishop was poor, the sea far off. Briefly, he had no fish. He served for the emperor’s supper some poor fry of vegetables, and a piece of old cheese, with bread of the country, and good whey. The emperor, being in royal appetite, hurled himself, as one might say, upon the cheese, but seeing green spots in it, began even as mademoiselle just now, to pick them out with his knife. Thereupon the bishop, like our Gretli, made respectful protest, telling his sovereign that he was discarding the best part; like mademoiselle again, Charlemagne tasted and found this to be the case. Thereupon he commanded the bishop to send him yearly, at his palace of Aix-la-Chapelle, two cases of cheese of that same kind. ‘And be sure that all have green spots!’ said the emperor.