The tournedos Walsingham, with truffles, fonds d'artichauts and a pink sauce so cunningly mixed that one could not tell what the ingredients were, showed the artistic hand of M. Dutru; and the cold entrée, the suprême de volaille served on a rock of glass, was excellent. My aunt by now was in an inquiring mood, and wanted to know if there were any of my actress friends among the many diners—for by half-past eight nearly every table was occupied. I was sorry that I could not show her any lights of the stage, but I could tell her of the Irish lord who was giving a family dinner-party, of the old general dining tête-à-tête with his son, and of the three foreign attachés who were inventing fables as to the Dreyfus case for each other's benefit.
The duck, the artichokes, and the ice were all that they should be, and my aunt was thoroughly pleased, for she told me, smilingly, that she had always considered me the scapegrace of the family.
I paid my bill. Two dinners, 15s.; two cafés doubles, 1s. 6d.; champagne, 15s.; liqueurs, 2s.; total, £1: 13: 6.
The faithful cabman was waiting outside, and as my aunt got into the cab she tapped me on the arm with her fan, and said that she had enjoyed herself.
Perhaps, after all, the old lady will remember me in her will.
21st January.
I asked Mons. Gelardi, the manager of the Walsingham House, if he would be so kind as to give me the recette for the tournedos Walsingham, and M. Dutru very kindly wrote it out for me.