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Updated: May 19, 2025
I was strolling carelessly and solo from the cook-wagon toward one of the two tents which protestingly housed some forty huddling Americans by night holding in my hand an historic morceau de chocolat, when a spick, not to say span, gentleman in a suspiciously quiet French uniform allowed himself to be driven up to the bureau, by two neat soldiers with tin derbies, in a Renault whose painful cleanliness shamed my recent efforts.
Quietly laying down his newspaper, he sat very still in his chair, keeping his back turned to the groups of wine drinkers who were gathering in large numbers as the evening advanced, and listened. "The most delicious little bonbon in the whole box! Jolie a craquer!" said a man's voice. "Chocolat fondant! Garantie tres pure!" cried another, his words being followed by a shout of laughter.
It was amusing to notice that at first the men thought we were French, so unaccustomed were they then to seeing any English girls out there with the exception of army Sisters and V.A.D.s. "Do chocolat, si voos play," they would ask, and were speechless with surprise when we replied sweetly: "Certainly, which kind will you have?"
But Lady Hartledon did not hear; or if she heard, did not heed; she was already absorbed in the contents of her letter. "Ici," said Hartledon, pushing the chocolate-pot towards the man, and rallying the best French he could command, "encore du chocolat. Toute froide, this. Et puis dépêchez vous; il est tarde, et nous avons besoin de sortir."
"Chocolat du Papillon. Yes; and you know, mamma, there was the linen-draper's with the sign A la Pensée. I never heard such ridiculous nonsense." "Yes; and there was another, my dear," said Mrs. Cockayne, "'To the fine Englishwoman, or something of that sort." "Oh, those two or three shops, mamma," said Sophonisba, "dedicated A la belle Anglaise!
Potage d'Artois; Caneton de Luxembourg; Soles aux fines herbes; Pommes Natures; Fricandeau de Veau; Haricots Princesse; Poulet roti; Compote; Homard frais; Sauce Ravigottes; Salad melé; Crême au chocolat; Fromage; Fruit. Humph, funnily arranged, isn't it? But Tibe and I have been living in furnished lodgings, and we er have eaten rather irregularly.
"Chocolat," said Walters. "That'll suit me all right. It's my treat, remember." "I'm not forgetting it. Now let's get to business. What you do is this. You write an application. I'll make that out for you on the typewriter tomorrow and you meet me here at eight tomorrow night and I'll give it to you.... You sign it at once and hand it in to your sergeant. See?"
A sign "Chocolat" on a door in a side street made us inquire, and, curiously enough, we found this also to be a little restaurant kept by two other milliners. They informed us that the first three milliners had escaped when the bombardment began, and before their restaurant had been blown up.
In the citadel of Verdun it seemed as if it must have been evolved by rubbing Aladdin's lamp, and I said so as I read it over: Huîtres d'Ostende Bisque d'Écrevisses Sanglier rôti Purée de Pommes de Terre Soufflée de Chocolat Fruits Bonbons "Oh, we've never been hungry at Verdun, even when things were at their liveliest," said the officer sitting next to me.
Iglesias now invited us to chocolat
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