All the afternoon he
had been thinking of Narcisse, and yearning beyond measure for
something suggestive of his art; and here, on his plate before him,
was food which might have been touched by the vanished hand. The
same subtle influence pervaded the Chartreuse a la cardinal, the
roast capon and salad, and the sweet. At last, when the dinner was
nearly over, and when the Marchesa had apparently said all she had
to say to Van der Roet, he lifted up his voice and said,
"Marchesa, who gave you the recipe for the sauce with which the
venison was served this evening?"
The Marchesa glanced at Mrs. Sinclair, and then struck a hand-bell
on the table. The door opened, and a little man, habited in a
cook's dress of spotless white, entered and came forward. "M.
Narcisse," said the Marchesa, "Sir John wants to know what sauce
was used in dressing the venison; perhaps you can tell him."
Here the Marchesa rose and left the room, and all the rest followed
her, feeling it was unmeet that such a reunion should be witnessed
by other eyes, however friendly they might be.
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