_Poirier_ [_alone_]--How vexatious he is, that son-in-law of mine! and
there's no way to get rid of him. He'll die a nobleman, for he will do
nothing and he is good for nothing.--There's no end to the money he
costs me.--He is master of my house.--I'll put a stop to it. [_He rings.
Enter a servant_.] Send up the porter and the cook. We shall see my
son-in-law! I have set up my back. I've unsheathed my velvet paws. You
will make no concessions, eh, my fine gentleman? Take your comfort! I
will not yield either: you may remain marquis, and I will again become a
_bourgeois_. At least I'll have the pleasure of living to my fancy.
_The Porter_--Monsieur has sent for me?
_Poirier_--Yes, François, Monsieur has sent for you. You can put the
sign on the door at once.
_The Porter_--The sign?
_Poirier_--"To let immediately, a magnificent apartment on the first
floor, with stables and carriage houses."
_The Porter_--The apartment of Monsieur le Marquis?
_Poirier_--You have said it, François.
_The Porter_--But Monsieur le Marquis has not given the order.
_Poirier_--Who is the master here, donkey? Who owns this mansion?
_The Porter_--You, Monsieur.
_Poirier_--Then do what I tell you without arguing.
_The Porter_--Yes, Monsieur. [_Enter Vatel_.]
_Poirier_--Go, François. [_Exit Porter_.] Come in, Monsieur Vatel: you
are getting up a big dinner for to-morrow?
_Vatel_--Yes, Monsieur, and I venture to say that the menu would not be
disowned by my illustrious ancestor himself. It is really a work of art,
and Monsieur Poirier will be astonished.
_Poirier_--Have you the menu with you?
_Vatel_--No, Monsieur, it is being copied; but I know it by heart.
_Poirier_--Then recite it to me.
_Vatel_--Le potage aux ravioles à l'Italienne et le potage à l'orge à la
Marie Stuart.
_Poirier_--You will replace these unknown concoctions by a good meat
soup, with some vegetables on a plate.
_Vatel_--What, Monsieur?
_Poirier_--I mean it. Go on.
_Vatel_--Relevé. La carpe du Rhin à la Lithuanienne, les poulardes à la
Godard--le filet de boeuf braisé aux raisins à la Napolitaine, le jambon
de Westphalie, rotie madère.
_Poirier_--Here is a simpler and far more sensible fish course: brill
with caper sauce--then Bayonne ham with spinach, and a savory stew of
bird, with well-browned rabbit.
_Vatel_--But, Monsieur Poirier--I will never consent.
_Poirier_--I am master--do you hear? Go on.
_Vatel_--Entrées. Les filets de volaille à la concordat--les croustades
de truffe garniés de foies à la royale, le faison étoffe à la
Montpensier, les perdreaux rouges farcis à la bohemienne.
_Poirier_--In place of these side dishes we will have nothing at all,
and we will go at once to the roast,--that is the only essential.
_Vatel_--That is against the precepts of art.
_Poirier_--I'll take the blame of that: let us have your roasts.
_Vatel_--It is not worth while, Monsieur: my ancestor would have run his
sword through his body for a less affront. I offer my resignation.
_Poirier_--And I was about to ask for it, my good friend; but as one has
eight days to replace a servant--
_Vatel_--A servant, Monsieur? I am an artist!
_Poirier_--I will fill your place by a woman. But in the mean time, as
you still have eight days in my service, I wish you to prepare my menu.
_Vatel_--I will blow my brains out before I dishonor my name.
_Poirier_ [_aside_]--Another fellow who adores his name! [_Aloud_.] You
may burn your brains, Monsieur Vatel, but don't burn your sauces.--Well,
_bon jour_! [_Exit Vatel_.] And now to write invitations to my old
cronies of the Rue des Bourdonnais. Monsieur le Marquis de Presles, I'll
soon take the starch out of you.
[_He goes out whistling the first couplet of 'Monsieur and Madame
Denis.'_]