"I? No. I come from Gournay, its neighbor and rival. Gournay is to Gisors
what Lucullus was to Cicero. Here, everything is for glory; they say 'the
proud people of Gisors.' At Gournay, everything is for the stomach; they
say 'the chewers of Gournay.' Gisors despises Gournay, but Gournay laughs
at Gisors. It is a very comical country, this."

I perceived that I was eating something very delicious, hard-boiled eggs
wrapped in a covering of meat jelly flavored with herbs and put on ice
for a few moments. I said as I smacked my lips to compliment Marambot:

"That is good."

He smiled.

"Two things are necessary, good jelly, which is hard to get, and good
eggs. Oh, how rare good eggs are, with the yolks slightly reddish, and
with a good flavor! I have two poultry yards, one for eggs and the other
for chickens. I feed my laying hens in a special manner. I have my own
ideas on the subject. In an egg, as in the meat of a chicken, in beef, or
in mutton, in milk, in everything, one perceives, and ought to taste, the
juice, the quintessence of all the food on which the animal has fed. How
much better food we could have if more attention were paid to this!"

I laughed as I said:

"You are a gourmand?"

"Parbleu. It is only imbeciles who are not. One is a gourmand as one is
an artist, as one is learned, as one is a poet. The sense of taste, my
friend, is very delicate, capable of perfection, and quite as worthy of