Monsieur Victor de Train-de-Luxe is in many respects a delightful
person. In other ways he is not. For instance, because he was,
accidentally, the cause of my backing a winner at Ascot (simply by means
of ordinary stable information), he had the bad taste to suggest that I
should stand him a dinner.
I said, "Certainly, my dear Comte" (Comte being the courtesy title I
invariably give to foreigners from whom I have the hope of borrowing
money).
"Where shall it be?"
"There is only one place where one _can_ dine," I said.
"Of course--the Bon Marché," he replied.
"No," I answered. "No, _mon ami_. If you wish to eat a really
characteristic English dinner, come to the Vegetarian Restaurant in
Edgware Road. Come along. Come, _now_!"
"But it's only six o'clock. I am not hungry."
"All the better," I replied. And I also pointed out to him that the best
way to see London is outside an omnibus. So we started.
* * * * *
Arrived at the restaurant, I was enthusiastically received by the
courteous cashier, who presented me with a previous bill, which, I
noticed, had not been receipted. I said I thought it rather rude to
present a gentleman with a bill which they hadn't taken the trouble to
receipt.
We sat down.
"I'm glad," I said to Victor, "that I didn't know this dinner was coming
off to-day. If I had had notice, I might have ordered it beforehand; and
a dinner, to be perfection, should be eaten, if possible, on the day it
is cooked. At least, that's what I always think. I may be wrong."
Monsieur de Train-de-Luxe smiled, said I was a _farceur_, and I ordered
our dinner.
First, some turnip turtle soup, then, ortolans of spinach and mashed
potatoes, followed by a canvas-backed duck made of Indian corn, and
last, not least, plum-pudding. As all will agree, this makes a very
delicious and seasonable repast. Long dinners have quite gone out of
fashion. And this was washed down with a sparkling bottle of orange
champagne, '97.
My friend Victor, who is rather a _gourmet_, was so struck with the
first mouthful of soup, that he said it was quite enough, observing, he
had never tasted anything like it.
Pleased with this praise, I asked his opinion of the ortolans. He said
that their aroma dispensed with the necessity for their consumption. He
was evidently surprised.
When the bill was presented by the courteous "chucker-out," we found
that most unluckily neither of us had any money.