Pelham — Volume 02Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
History
Pelham — Volume 02
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
Adventure stories; English fiction -- 19th century; Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction
"Amen," said I; and we proceeded together to the monkey-fancier. After
much deliberation we at last decided upon the most hideous animal I ever
beheld--it was of a--no, I will not attempt to describe it--it would be
quite impossible! Vincent was so delighted with our choice that he
insisted upon carrying it away immediately.
"Is it quite quiet?" I asked.
"Comme un oiseau," said the man.
We called a fiacre--paid for monsieur Jocko, and drove to Vincent's
apartments; there we found, however, that his valet had gone out and
taken the key.
"Hang it," said Vincent, "it does not signify! We'll carry le petit
monsieur with us to the Rocher."
Accordingly we all three once more entered the fiacre, and drove to the
celebrated restaurateur's of the Rue Mont Orgueil. O, blissful
recollections of that dinner! how at this moment you crowd upon my
delighted remembrance! Lonely and sorrowful as I now sit, digesting with
many a throe the iron thews of a British beef-steak--more anglico--
immeasurably tough--I see the grateful apparitions of Escallopes de
Saumon and Laitances de Carps rise in a gentle vapour before my eyes!
breathing a sweet and pleasant odour, and contrasting the dream-like
delicacies of their hue and aspect, with the dire and dure realities
which now weigh so heavily on the region below my heart! And thou, most
beautiful of all--thou evening star of entremets--thou that delightest in
truffles, and gloriest in a dark cloud of sauces--exquisite foie-gras!--
Have I forgotten thee? Do I not, on the contrary, see thee--smell thee--
taste thee--and almost die with rapture of thy possession? What, though
the goose, of which thou art a part, has, indeed, been roasted alive by a
slow fire, in order to increase thy divine proportions--yet has not our
Almanach--the Almanach des Gourmands--truly declared that the goose
rejoiced amid all her tortures--because of the glory that awaited her?
Did she not, in prophetic vision, behold her enlarged and ennobled foie
dilate into pates and steam into sautees--the companion of truffles--the
glory of dishes--the delight--the treasure--the transport of gourmands!
O, exalted among birds--apotheosised goose, did not thy heart exult even
when thy liver parched and swelled within thee, from that most agonizing
death; and didst thou not, like the Indian at the stake, triumph in the
very torments which alone could render thee illustrious?
After dinner we grew exceedingly merry. Vincent punned and quoted; we
laughed and applauded; and our Burgundy went round with an alacrity, to
which every new joke gave an additional impetus. Monsieur Jocko was by no
means the dullest in the party; he cracked his nuts with as much grace as
we did our jests, and grinned and chatted as facetiously as the best of
us. After coffee we were all so pleased with one another, that we
resolved not to separate, and accordingly we adjourned to my rooms, Jocko
and all, to find new revelries and grow brilliant over Curacoa punch.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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