The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Volume 1 (of 3)Le Sage, Alain René
General
The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Volume 1 (of 3)
Le Sage, Alain René
Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; Blas, Gil (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
I knew what I was about in the art of dressing meat. Dame Leonarda,
with whom I had served my time, might have passed for a very decent
plain cook; but a mere turnspit to dame Jacintha. The latter might
almost have borne away the bell from the archbishop of Toledo's man.
She was mistress of every thing; gravy soups, of the most delicious
texture and relish; and, for made dishes, she could season them up,
or soften them down to the most delicate or voluptuous palate. At
dinner time we returned to his reverence's apartment. While I was
arranging the grand concern close by his arm-chair, the lady of all
work crammed a napkin under the old boy's chin, and pinned it behind
his back. Without losing a moment, in marched I with a stew, fit to
be set before the first gourmand in Madrid, and two courses, to have
tickled the gills of a viceroy, only that Dame Jacintha had touched
the spicebox with discretion, for fear of exasperating the gout. At
the first glimpse of this goodly mess, my old master, whom I
conceived to have lost the use of his limbs, made me to understand
that his arms were exempted from the interdict. He availed himself
of their assistance, to get clear of his pillow and cushions, and
proceeded gayly to the attack. His hand shook, to be sure; but some
how or other it contrived to do its duty. He sent it backwards and
forwards fast enough; though it brought but half its cargo to the
landing-place at a lading: the tablecloth and napkin took toll. I
carried off the soup when he had done, and brought in a partridge
flanked by two roast quails, which Dame Jacintha cut up for him. She
took care to make him take a good draught of wine, a little lowered
at proper intervals, out of a large, deep, silver cup, which she held
to his mouth, as if he had been an infant. He winged the partridge,
and came down slap-dash upon all the rest of the dishes. When he had
done cramming, that saint of the saucepan unpinned his napkin,
reinstated his pillow and cushions; then, leaving him composed in his
arm-chair to the enjoyment of his usual nap after dinner, we took
away, and demolished the remainder with appetites worthy of our
master.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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