his wife. He seemed satisfied at our evident good intelligence, and
raising his sonorous and cordial voice:

"Monsieur," he said to me, "I have spoken to you of my two rival cooks;
now is the time to justify the reputation of high discernment which I have
attributed to you in the minds of these artists.

"Alas! I am about to lose the oldest, and without doubt the most skillful,
of these masters--the illustrious Jean Rostain. It was he, sir, who, on
his arrival from Paris, two years ago, made this remarkable speech to me:
'A man of taste, Monsieur le Marquis, can no longer live in Paris; they
practice there now, a certain romantic style of cooking which will lead us
Heaven knows where!' In short, sir, Rostain is a classic; this singular
man has an opinion of his own! Well! you have just tasted in succession
two _entremets_ dishes of which cream forms the essential foundation;
according to my idea, these dishes are both a success; but Rostain's work
has struck me as greatly superior. Ah, ah! sir, I am curious to know if
you can of your own accord and upon that simple indication, assign to each
tree its fruit, and render unto Cæsar what belongs to Cæsar. Ah, ah, let
us see if you can!"

I cast a furtive glance at the remnants of the two dishes to which the
marquis had just called my attention, and I had no hesitation in
designating as "classic" the one that was surmounted with a temple of
cupid, and a figure of that god in polychromatic pastry.

"A hit!" exclaimed the marquis. "Bravo! Rostain shall hear of it, and his
heart will rejoice. Ah! monsieur, why has it not been my good fortune to
receive you in my house a few days sooner? I might perhaps have kept
Rostain, or, to speak more truly, Rostain might perhaps have kept me; for