You commented favourably upon that supreme
of lobster and the Ris de Veau a la Renaissance we tasted last
week, but never again will you meet the handiwork of Narcisse. He
came to me with admirable testimonials as to his artistic
excellence; with regard to his moral past I was, I fear, culpably
negligent, for I now learn that all the time he presided over my
stewpans he was wanted by the French police on a charge of
murdering his wife. A young lady seems to have helped him; so I
fear Narcisse has broken more than one of the commandments in this
final escapade. The truly great have ever been subject to these
momentary aberrations, and Narcisse being now in the hands of
justice--so called--our dinner must needs stand over, though not, I
hope, for long. Meantime the only consolation I can perceive is
the chance of a cup of tea with you this afternoon.
J. O."
Sir John Oglethorpe had been her husband's oldest and best friend.
He and the Marchesa had first met in Sardinia, where they had both
of them gone in pursuit of woodcock, and since the Marchesa had
been a widow, she and Sir John had met either in Rome or in London
every year.
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