excellency, Count Luetzen, was good enough to indicate to me the dishes his royal highness prefers for supper.
Beatice—What are they?
Cæsar—Cold bouillon.
Beatrice—Yes.
Cæsar—Cold salmon.
Beatrice—Yes.
Cæsar—Cold beef.
Beatrice—Yes.
Cæsar—With his own mustard.
Beatrice—His own mustard?
Cæsar—With his royal highness' own mustard.
Beatrice—And what may that be?
Cæsar—His royal highness carries his own mustard wherever he goes.
Beatrice—That is a new custom!
Cæsar—The chef says it is a very ancient custom. Eminent Greeks of olden times always brought their own spices to the table of their host.
Beatrice—Is the chef such a learned man?
Cæsar—Yes, your highness. He also told me that the Greek gourmands used to wear a protective shell over their tongues, which they only removed at meal-times.
Beatrice—[Gives him a look of stern reproof.] I didn't ask you that.
