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"We will digest our dinner at the Opera, and afterwards I will take you to a house where several people have the greatest wish to meet you." The Vidame gave a delightful little dinner at the Rocher de Cancale; three guests only were asked to meet Victurnien de Marsay, Rastignac, and Blondet.
Malo, though they wouldn't come out, his Grace the Duke of Marlborough and my Lord George Sackville determined not to disturb the garrison, marched back to Cancale again, and and so got on board their ships. If this were not a veracious history, don't you see that it would have been easy to send our Virginian on a more glorious campaign? Exactly four weeks after his departure from England, Mr.
Then there is Hector Merlin and his Mme. du Val-Noble; you meet great people at their house dukes and dandies and millionaires; didn't they ask you and Coralie to dine with them?" "Yes," replied Lucien; "you are going too, and so is Florine." Lucien and Etienne were now on familiar terms after Friday's debauch and the dinner at the Rocher de Cancale.
Alas! when, at half-past two o'clock, Oscar entered the salon of the Rocher de Cancale, where were three invited persons besides the clerks, to wit: an old captain of dragoons, named Giroudeau; Finot, a journalist who might procure an engagement for Florentine at the Opera, and du Bruel, an author, the friend of Tullia, one of Mariette's rivals, the second clerk felt his secret hostility vanish at the first handshaking, the first dashes of conversation as they sat around a table luxuriously served.
Sir Robert turned away with a whistle. "'Fore God!" said he, "it is in my mind that I carry some hard men with me to Brittany." Sir Robert Knolles with his little fleet had sighted the Breton coast near Cancale; they had rounded the Point du Grouin, and finally had sailed past the port of St.
The Brittany coast was a long, flat, green band; the rocks of Cancale were brown, but scarcely higher in point of elevation than the sand-hills; the Normandy forests and orchards were rippling lines that focussed into the spiral of the Avranches cathedral spires: floating between the two blues, hung the aerial shapes of the Chaunsey and the Channel Islands; and nearer, along the coast-line, were the fringing edges of the shore, broken with shoals and shallows earth's fingers, as it were, touching the sea playing, as Coleridge's Abyssinian maid fingered the dulcimer, that music that haunts the poet's ear.
"The best thing in the world," he cried, "and one gets it so seldom since the old Rocher de Cancale has lost its renown. At private houses, what does one get now? blanc de poulet, flavourless trash. After all, Gandrin, when we lose the love-letters, it is some consolation that laitances de carpes and sautes de foie gras are still left to fill up the void in our hearts.
She dried her eyes without affectation, and spoke to du Bruel. "'Send a note to the Rocher de Cancale, she said, 'and ask your guests to dine here.
Bäader's face wore its blandest smile. "On ze contraire, I have made for myself a most excellent repast; but if monsieur will consider ze dinner is a prix fixe, and monsieur can eat it all, or it shall remain for ze propriétaire. Zis, if monsieur will for one moment attend, will be stupid extraordinaire. I have made ze investigation, and discover zat ze post départ from Cancale in one hour.
Of course it is imposseeble in Cancale to have ze grand bain of Paris, but then zare is still something, a bath quite spécial, simple, and of ze people. Remember, monsieur, it is Bäader." And so, with a cheery "Bon soir" from madame, and a profound bow from Bäader, I fell asleep. The next morning I was awakened by a rumbling in the lower hold, as if the cargo was being shifted.
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