"One isn't hungry at first; but afterward one eats very well. Besides, we came here to dine, if I'm not mistaken."
"Look you, monsieur; have the kindness to order—ask for whatever you choose—whatever you would like; but don't compel me to think about it."
"Very good; I agree. In truth, I am inclined to think that's the better way! With your abstraction, your sighs, you would never be able to order a dinner; you would order veal for fish, and radishes for prawns, while I excel in that part of the game. You see, I have lived, and lived well, I flatter myself! Some madeira first of all, waiter—and put some Moët in the ice; meanwhile, I will make out our menu!"
The madeira having been brought, Cherami immediately drank two glasses to restore the tone of his stomach; then he took the bill of fare, and took pains to order the best of everything. The waiter, who scrutinized our friend's costume while he was writing, would probably have displayed less zeal in serving him, had not his companion begun by slipping five francs into his hand. But that spontaneous generosity had given another direction to the waiter's ideas, and he concluded that the gentleman with the check trousers was a Scotchman who had not changed his travelling costume.
While Cherami wrote his order, young Gustave was unable to sit still for a moment; he went constantly to the door and took a few steps in the corridor, then returned to question the waiter, to whose particular attention Cherami commended his menu.
"Waiter, is the wedding party at table yet?"
"They sat down just a moment ago, monsieur."
"Above all things, don't have the fillet cooked too much."
"Never fear, monsieur."
"Where is the bride sitting?"