Vatel--But, Monsieur Poirier--I will never consent.
Poirier--I am master--do you hear? Go on.
Vatel--Entrées. Les filets de volaille à la concordat--les croustades de truffe garniés de foies à la royale, le faison étoffe à la Montpensier, les perdreaux rouges farcis à la bohemienne.
Poirier--In place of these side dishes we will have nothing at all, and we will go at once to the roast,--that is the only essential.
Vatel--That is against the precepts of art.
Poirier--I'll take the blame of that: let us have your roasts.
Vatel--It is not worth while, Monsieur: my ancestor would have run his sword through his body for a less affront. I offer my resignation.
Poirier--And I was about to ask for it, my good friend; but as one has eight days to replace a servant--
Vatel--A servant, Monsieur? I am an artist!
Poirier--I will fill your place by a woman. But in the mean time, as you still have eight days in my service, I wish you to prepare my menu.