Grachet stared at his master, and Mouthier instantly resolved to be eccentric of a morning—if possible.
"Mouthier, you are, to-day, going to allow his Majesty to create a vol-au-vent royal à la Châteauroux—is it not so?"
"His Majesty has informed your Grace?"
"No. The gods whispered it. But, Mouthier, the gods refused to go further than the name. Therefore I come to you, that I may learn more of a dish which a king will prepare for a duchess. Tell me, oh, prince of thy art, is this dish of kings sweet or sour, thick or thin, cold or hot? I would match my coat to its consistency. What ingredients does it contain? Of what is it compounded?"
"Your Grace—" The cook hesitated painfully, but found his professional instinct stronger than his reverence for rank. "Your Grace—if I might be assured that Marin—had nothing to do with this affair—"
"Marin? Oh! I see! But you cannot deem Marin your rival? Mouthier, between us, Marin is a no one, a second-rate man, unfit even for the taste of M. de Soubise. How the cordon bleu ever came to be delivered to him—bah! Mouthier, you would not imagine me as intriguing with—with a Marin, eh?"
"Ah, Monseigneur, Monseigneur, forgive! My suspicions were base, false. Monseigneur, the vol-au-vent royal à la Châteauroux is a pâtê, a round pastry case, filled with a delightful compound of—of chicken, of sweetbreads, of truffles, of cock's-combs, of mushrooms—"
"Ah! You may go, Mouthier. You may go, I say!"
Grachet stole a terrified glance at the Duke. Mouthier, cut short at the very beginning of a recitation delicious to his creative soul, looked with pathetic appeal at the great man, saw him point relentlessly to the antechamber door, with unmistakable command in his face, and so, thoroughly disappointed, and scarcely, in that disappointment, finding time to wonder, began reluctantly backing, and, still murmuring raptly, "seasoned with salt, with black butter, delicate spice, with bay-leaves, and covered with the sauce à—la—," disappeared through the doorway and was visible no more.
"Ah! That is settled, then. Grachet, a cloak and hat."