At this moment Lord Raglan came in, quite by chance. “Hallo, Monsieur Soyer,” said he, “what have you got there?” “A piece of ration beef, my lord, with a certain addition of fat; and I beg your acceptance of it for to-morrow’s dinner. I have seen Armand about it, and he has promised to do it to a turn.” “That’s very kind of you,” said his lordship, giving his orders to the colonel, and inquiring, at the same time, about a very important telegraphic despatch. “But I must again tell you, as I mentioned once before, you will not find my cook a first-rate _cordon bleu_.” “Well, my lord, no doubt he does his best, according to the quality of the provisions, which, your lordship must be aware, are not first-rate. At all events, I shall trust this marvel to his skill; and if he does it to a turn, as he has promised, he will prove the correctness of my countryman’s words--Brillat Savarin--who says, in his _Physiologie du Goût_, ‘On devient cuisinier, mais on est nait rôtisseur.’” “That is a charming work of Savarin’s,” said his lordship. “Well, Soyer,” continued he, “this certainly looks like English beef. Where does it come from?” “From Alexandria, my lord. I dined the other day on board the _Etna_, and we had a splendid piece of roast beef for dinner. I at once claimed a portion for your lordship’s table; and the captain ordered the best piece to be put by--and here it is.” “Very kind of him, very kind--and of you too, Monsieur Soyer.” As Lord Raglan said this, he turned and gave his orders to Colonel Steele. “Have you found your pony?” “I believe so. I hear it is in the stables of the 93rd Regiment, and I am going to look for it directly.” “You are lucky,” said he; “for some fellows have actually stolen thirty live sheep and several mules from here.” “Have they indeed?” “Yes, I assure you it is too true. Is it not, Steele?” “So I was told.” “Oh, I hear Miss Nightingale is soon going back.” “Yes, as soon as she is sufficiently strong to bear the voyage.” Lord Raglan then left the room. Never was there a man at all times more composed and collected than he was; and he always had a kind word and smile for those around him, even at the most critical times. Several days had by this time elapsed since the departure of the expedition for Kertch, and no news of its movements had been received. The harbour looked very dull. Not knowing how to spend my evening, I went with a friend to Kadikoi, and dined there. Whilst at table, an officer who knew me, and who was reading the last number of the _Illustrated London News_, addressed me with a “Hallo, Monsieur Soyer, they have got you in the _Illustrated_ this week.” “Have they?” said I. “Oh, I see--it is the last letter I sent from Scutari.” “Yes, it is,” he replied. “About the opening of my kitchen? Yes, and here is the sketch. I did not notice that before.”