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Updated: June 28, 2025
Instigated by Giroudeau, Lolotte, one of the handsomest of the Opera ballet-girls, was the amiable assassin of the old man. Rouget died after a splendid supper at Florentine's, and Lolotte threw the blame of his death upon a slice of pate de foie gras; as the Strasburg masterpiece could make no defence, it was considered settled that the old man died of indigestion.
"I have not mortified her, my dear Mardocheus, or at all events, such was not my intention; but as I have put myself on diet, I shall be eating no more foie gras, and consequently I shall dine by myself, and save three pauls a day."
"No, monsieur, I have lived from hand to mouth, that I might scrape up this money; but I hope, in time, to repair the wrongs I have done to my neighbor." "Ah!" said the painter, swallowing a mouthful of pate de foie gras, "you are truly a man of honor." "What is Madame Birotteau doing?" asked Madame Lourdois. "She is keeping the books of Monsieur Anselme Popinot."
My! won't I find some goodies, and paté de foie gras. I'll come here once a month, as often as they'll let me, till I gets you out. 'N after that, we'll leave this 'orrid, 'yprocritical old country and live 'appily at my Villa, or travel a bit. Fortunately I've plenty of money. Bein' over here I've bin rearranging my investments a bit. Fact is, I 'ad a bit of a scare this autumn.
Lawyer Ball was at breakfast when Mr. Carlyle was shown in. "Halloo, Carlyle! You are here betimes." "Sit still; don't disturb yourself. Don't ring; I have breakfasted." "The most delicious pate de foie," urged Lawyer Ball, who was a regular gourmand. "I get 'em direct from Strasbourg." Mr. Carlyle resisted the offered dainty with a smile. "I have come on business," said he, "not to feast.
I told him I had relished my supper, but that I should like the foie gras every day as I had a dispensation. "You shall have some to-morrow, but Leah is the only one of us who eats it." "Then Leah must take it with me, and you can tell her that I shall give her some Cyprus wine which is perfectly pure."
"I am writing our menu, for you know we are not going to sit down at the table like the bourgeois. How do you like it?" She read it to him. "Sardines de Nantes." "Cuisse de dinde rotie." "Terrine de pate de foie gras aux truffes du Perigord." "But this is a feast." "Did you think that I would offer you a fricandeau au jus?" She continued: "Fromage de Brie." "Choux a la creme vanillge."
"I am sorry to hear that; but you like foie gras?" "Yes, I do; and from what father tells me I am going to take some with you to-day." "I shall be delighted." "I suppose you are afraid of being poisoned?" "Not at all; I only wish we could die together." She pretended not to understand, and left me burning with desire.
They were chiefly made of turkeys, partridges, and hare, seasoned with truffles, but he also made pates de foie gras of larks and of thrushes, according to the season. In two days I arrived at Bordeaux, a beautiful town coming only second to Paris, with respect to Lyons be it said. I spent a week there, eating and drinking of the best, for the living there is the choicest in the world.
Beef sandwiches, ham sandwiches, veal and ham sandwiches, bacon, mutton, or game sandwiches, chicken sandwiches, sandwiches made of anchovy and hard boiled eggs, of curried rabbit and Parmesan, of curried shell-fish and Parmesan, of small salad, of sliced tomatoes, of mushrooms, of roast fowl, lettuce and filleted anchovies, of roast game, shred celery and Tartare sauce, of cooked fish, lettuce leaves and Tartare sauce, of cold meat and thinly sliced cucumber or gherkins, of roast game, tongue and aspic jelly, of the flesh of lobster and mayonnaise, of hard boiled eggs and a very thin sprinkle of finely shred tarragon, of potted hare, potted ham, or any potted meat, of cheese, of devilled ham, of cold asparagus, with a suspicion of mayonnaise, of brawn, of shrimps, of foie gras, of German sausage or caviare and brown bread and butter, are a few varieties which may serve to suggest others.
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