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Satire and wrath are curiously blended in a German manuscript of the twelfth century, in which the scribe introduces a portrait of himself hurling a missile at a venturesome mouse who is eating the monk's cheese a fine Camembert! under his very nose. In the book which he is represented as transcribing, the artist has traced the words "Pessime mus, sepius me provocas ad iram, ut te Deus perdat."
When they reached Bordeaux he took Richard to his favourite theatre and introduced him to the leader of the orchestra, a person with a crinkly yellow face and a soft heart, whose name was Camembert, for which reason his intimates called him "the Cheese."
Say, gentle reader, did you ever have a 200-pound woman breathing a flavour of Camembert cheese and Peau d'Espagne pick you up and wallop her nose all over you, remarking all the time in an Emma Eames tone of voice: "Oh, oo's um oodlum, doodlum, woodlum, toodlum, bitsy-witsy skoodlums?"
If he could reach a table in the restaurant unsuspected success would be his. The portion of him that would show above the table would raise no doubt in the waiter's mind. A roasted mallard duck, thought Soapy, would be about the thing with a bottle of Chablis, and then Camembert, a demi-tasse and a cigar. One dollar for the cigar would be enough.
Old Jack's money may have had a taint to it, but all the same he had orders for his Camembert piling up on him every minute.
Consider the cheese of Rocquefort: how hard it is in its little box. Consider the cheese of Camembert, which is hard also, and also lives in a little box, but must not be eaten until it is soft and yellow. Consider the cheese of Stilton, which is not made there, and of Cheddar, which is.
"Yeh-while it lasts. I hear there ain't goin' to be no more cabarets or Camembert cheese till after the war." "What you going to do with it buy us a round of fizz?" She bit open the knot, a folded bill dropping to the table, uncurling. "Lord!" she said, contemplating and flipping it with her finger-tip. "Where I come from that twenty-dollar bill every week would keep me like a queen.
"What you get afterwards you see upon the sideboard: cold partridges both young birds though ham, salad of my own mixing, and, behold! my one outburst of extravagance strawberries. There is also a camembert cheese lying in ambush outside because of its strength. I would suggest that during the three minutes which will ensue before I serve you with the stew, you open the champagne.
The announcements of "The Renowned Camembert Quintette, with a celebrated American Soloist" attracted an amused curiosity. And the music was good, for the old man was a real master, and the practice was strenuous and persistent.
He crossed the room to the sideboard and, having assured himself the Camembert was of the right age, went singing into Suzette's kitchen to glance at the salad. "Bravo, my little one, for your romaine!" I heard him exclaim. Then a moment's silence ensued, while he tasted the dressing. "Sacristi! My child, do you think we are rabbits. Hélas! Not a bit of astragon in your seasoning!
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