“This ‘Nino’ would stoop forward and lean his chin upon the shoulder of his grandeur, and his grandeur would point with a fat, white, stumpy finger to some particular dish upon the table, and after a few moments whispered conversation between the pair, Nino would disappear for a short time, and then return all in a heat and blaze. He had evidently been despatched to the kitchen for information respecting the origin and composition of the approved _morceau_, in order that it might be reproduced at some future time upon the archiepiscopal table. His delight at every new discovery of this nature was perfectly uncontrollable, and he would chuckle and clap his hands like a child whenever a fresh dish, wearing a tempting exterior, was placed before him. “To me his grandeur was unfolding a new chapter in the eternal history of human eccentricity, and I watched every motion with the most intense interest. Towards the end of the repast, the ecstasies with which he had greeted the endeavours of our French _artistes_, and, perhaps, also the enormous efforts which he had used to prove his admiration of their talents, had produced a state of excitement which rather began to alarm me, the more so as even La Bernardière had not been able to win a moment’s attention, so absorbed had his grandeur been with the culinary excellence of our political system. Every dish had been discussed by the archbishop; neither _entremets_ nor _hors d’œuvre_, however insignificant, had escaped investigation, until, at last, I grew perfectly amazed at the quantity which had been absorbed, and perceived, with an indescribable feeling of terror and dismay, the hue of dark purple, which, beginning with his ears, had gradually overspread his whole physiognomy, and more particularly the look of stolid dulness with which he now eyed the table. “‘Your grandeur is ill,’ said I, in a whisper; ‘allow me to order yon window to be opened above your head, or would you prefer to retire for a moment to breathe the air upon the staircase?’ “‘No, no,’ returned the archbishop, ‘I have not finished dinner yet,’ and immediately helped himself most copiously from a dish of _artichauts à la Barigoul_, (a dish for which, by-the-bye, my cook was famous,) and fell to eating once again, as if refreshed by the pause he had been compelled to make. I was verily astounded! His grandeur seemed to have reserved all his energies for the _artichauts à la Barigoul_, and devoured them with as much gusto as though he had eaten nothing since morning.