As the young lady had to be at Covent Garden at eight, and it was now seven, I thought the shortest of the menus—the 6s. 6d. one—would suffice. Besides, I hold that the best dinners are always short ones. Here it is:—
Hors-d'œuvre variés.
Consommé Sévigné.
Paupiettes de merlans Héloïse.
Tournedos grillés Judic.
Poularde rôtie.
Salade.
Asperges au beurre fondu.
Soufflé glacé Victoria.
Petits fours.
As Miss Brighteyes ate her plovers' eggs she wanted to be told who the different people dining at the tables might be. The bearded gentleman was one of the best-known singers, and his name a household word. The other man with the impress of the artist strong upon him was, I was able to tell her, the well-known Wagnerian conductor, who at the time was constantly travelling backwards and forwards between Bayreuth and Covent Garden. A pleasant-faced gentleman with a dark moustache, who had smiled at me as I came in, was a well-known comedian and manager; the gentleman dining with two ladies was a cricketer of fame. There was the London correspondent of the Figaro dining with another French gentleman.
Our soup was excellent. There was in it a savour of the sea which reminded me of the birds'-nest soup of China, and by that alone I should have judged M. Baptiste Commaille, the chef, to be an artist.
Before the fish arrived my cross-examination was continued. "Had I been to a Levee?" I was asked; and when I said I had not, and that the reason of the not having done so was that my practical study of the art of dining had made my tunic too tight for me, and that I was not sufficiently wealthy just at present to buy another to use for one occasion only in the year, I was told that I should learn to bike, and that if I did I might come sometimes and take Miss Brighteyes to the Park in the morning. Was I going to the big charity fancy ball at the Empress Rooms, and if so, as what? I was not, I regretted to say, my tunic not suiting better for balls than for levees, and my figure not being quite in keeping with a Romeo costume from Nathan's; but I learned that Miss Brighteyes was, and that she was going in a copy of a costume of one of her ancestresses, all light blue with the front laced across with pearls. The ancestress had real pearls, but Miss Brighteyes was only to have imitation ones.
The fish I did not care for much, a merlan being rather a tasteless denizen of the sea, but Miss Brighteyes admired the cream and pink of the plat immensely, and thought that there was a suggestion for a dress in it. Then I heard all about the recent balls, how charming the pink peonies were at one house, and the lilies and palms at another, and so on; and was given a disquisition on the dresses at the Drawing-Room, of which all that I can recall is that one lady wore muslin with roses painted on it, and ropes of wonderful pearls.
The tournedos, with their accompanying quarters of artichokes in batter and scarlet tomatoes, were excellent, very excellent indeed, and so was the chicken, delightfully brown, and done to a turn. The soufflé glacé Victoria, which was brought in triumph by M. Garin, the maître d'hôtel, was encased in a little summer-house of sugar, with the names of various papers blazoned on it—that of the Pall Mall being over the door, I had finished my pint of excellent champagne and Miss Brighteyes had sipped her lemon squash, a sinful drink, even for a girl in her first season. I was selfish enough to take my coffee and liqueur before I told Miss Brighteyes that it was ten minutes to eight, which put her in a flutter, for she was anxious not to lose the overture.
This was the bill;—Two dinners, 13s.; half 88, 7s.; one lemon squash, 1s.; half tasse, 6d.; one liqueur, 1s.; total, £1: 0: 6.
There have been changes at the Hôtel Continental since I dined there with the intention of putting my experiences in print. There is a new board of directors, and the dining-room has put off its rather sombre livery of deep reds and browns, and has adopted instead a bright dress of white and gold and delicate greys. The curtains to the windows are pink, and the room is as bright now as a flower-garden. Mons. Laurent has replaced Mons. Garin as maître d'hôtel.