It did, indeed, and our first dinner confirmed our sensation of pleasure. There was no deception. We began with a _purée mongole_, and proceeded with frogs _à la poulette_. Dainty little lamb chops, _à la maintenon_, roast grass plovers, a salad that was nearly poetic, and a delicious sweet, known as cream _renversée_, made us feel almost too nice to be at home. As for the after-dinner coffee, it was--sepia ecstasy. Perhaps we _were_ fastidious; undoubtedly the dear folks who say that they revel in plain food delicately prepared in pure water, will sniff at this program. Still, I should not like to set it before them with any hopes of finding remnants. Those dear folks who love plain food! The grapes are so sour! Leonie almost threw the food at me, but she served Letitia most obsequiously. I was glad to see my little wife so well taken care of, but I must admit that I made frantic efforts to redeem myself in the handmaiden's sight. I tried to indicate, unostentatiously, education and refinement. Weak I may be, but I hated to be regarded as a vulgarian. The maid was a great restraint upon us. There she stood at the back of Letitia's chair like a Nemesis. We had to restrict our conversation to glittering generalities. She drank in our words, unbudgingly. Her eyes were riveted on Letitia's plate, and my wife was plied with food unceasingly. I am sorry to say that _I_ had to ask for some more of the cream _renversée_. In fact, I had to ask twice, before I got it, and then it was pushed rather rudely before me. "It is like a dream," said Letitia purringly, when we were alone in the drawing-room. "You see, nothing was over-stated in the advertisement. It was all quite true." "I only wish we had a theater on, or a party to go to, or something to do," I said longingly. "It seems wicked to sit still and read, after a dinner like that. We ought to move--stir--walk." "Of course it _would_ be nicer," acquiesced Letitia. "That will come later. I dare say that Madame will spur us to sociability." We sat, and read, and digested. Letitia seemed drowsy; I felt heavy, and disinclined for exertion. The richness of our repast was undeniable. Letitia's remark that it was like a dream was not irrelevant, but the dream was a nightmare. A more awe-inspiring night I have never spent. I dreamed that Gerda Lyberg was holding me down and throttling me, while Mrs. Potzenheimer and Birdie Miriam McCaffrey did a cachucha apiece on my body. I awoke, dripping with perspiration, to find Letitia agitatedly pacing up and down the bedroom. "Nothing--nothing would induce me to go to sleep again, Archie," she said excitedly. "Don't ask me to. I shall sit up for the rest of the night. I dreamed that I went in the kitchen and found Madame de Lyrolle boiling Olga Allallami's twins!"