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Updated: May 11, 2025
"Oh, monsieur, when some little affair arises upon which he and I dispute when some cloud, as it were, darkens the sun." She continued to look down demurely; then quickly she looked up again. "But I waste your time! And, besides, I have not finished what I would say." "Oh, mademoiselle, I beg " "It is not of the poulet that I would speak, monsieur!
"And the Father Tiber " added Jimmie, waxing enthusiastic. "Yes, and one dinner at the Pavilion d'Armenonville to hear the Tziganes " said Bee. "And one afternoon on the Seine to go to St. Cloud to see the brides dance at the Pavilion Bleu, and a supper afterward in the open to have a poulet and a pêche flambée." Jimmie by this time was wriggling in ecstasy.
The resemblance struck her; she would cry aloud to the men 'Voici Monsieur Geelby, le poulet qui a peur de descendre! The fact that at the thought of mimicking Gilby Zilda was roused to an unwarranted glow of excitement showed, had any one been wise enough to see it, that she felt some inward cause of pleasurable excitement at the mention of his name.
I was so much ashamed of my large hands, during this time at the Royalty, that I kept them tucked up under my arms! This subjected me to unmerciful criticism from Madame Albina at rehearsals. "Take down your hands," she would call out. "Mon Dieu! It is like an ugly young poulet going to roost!" In spite of this, I did not lose my elegant habit for many years!
The dish which the Emperor preferred was the kind of fried chicken to which this preference of the conqueror of Italy has given the name of poulet a la Marengo. He also ate with relish beans, lentils, cutlets, roast mutton, and roast chicken. The simplest dishes were those he liked best, but he was fastidious in the article of bread.
We were soon engaged in all the pleasures and pains of a dinner. "Petimus," said Lord Vincent, helping himself to some poulet a l'Austerlitz, "petimus bene vivere quod petis, hic est?" We were not, however, assured of that fact at the termination of dinner. If half the dishes were well conceived and better executed, the other half were proportionably bad.
Poulet was almost fifteen, but was a mere child in intelligence, ignorant, silly, suppressed between petticoat government and this kind old man who belonged to another century. One evening the baron spoke of college, and Jeanne at once began to sob. Aunt Lison timidly remained in a dark corner. "Why does he need to know so much?" asked his mother. "We will make a gentleman farmer of him.
We were soon engaged in all the pleasures and pains of a dinner. "Petimus," said Lord Vincent, helping himself to some poulet a l'Austerlitz, "petimus bene vivere quod petis, hic est?" We were not, however, assured of that fact at the termination of dinner. If half the dishes were well conceived and better executed, the other half were proportionably bad.
But although the sad tidings he had just heard had not been able to effectually loosen his purse-strings, they had at least power utterly to destroy his appetite, albeit the poulet was done to a turn.
I blushed and stuttered, and murmured out a few incoherent words to explain but it would not do I could not recover my equanimity during the course of the dinner and while endeavoring to help an English Duke, my neighbor, to poulet a l'Austerlitz, fairly sent seven mushrooms and three large greasy croutes over his whiskers and shirt-frill. Another laugh at my expense. "Ah!
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