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We warn him in advance of what he may expect and urge him to carry his rations with him. It is almost unnecessary to add that old Marie gave us veal and poulet roti. According to the French version of the story of the Flood only two animals emerged from the Ark when the waters receded one was an immature hen and the other was an adolescent calf.
She was describing her dolls to Mes-Bottes, whose jaws worked steadily, like machinery. He did not listen, but he nodded at intervals, with his eyes fixed on the garcons to see that they carried away no dishes that were not emptied. There had been veal cutlets and string beans served. As a roti, two lean chickens on a bed of water cresses were brought in.
"You are late, my friend," the princess went on, with a note of pity in her soft voice. "My mother remembered the days Loti depicted in 'Rarahu. My grandmother knew little Tarahu of Bora-Bora of whom he wrote. Viaud was then a midshipman. We did not call him Loti, but Roti, our coined word for a rose, because he had rosy cheeks. But he could not call himself Roti in his novel, for in French, his language, that meant roasted, and one might think of boeuf
"You are triste, Monsieur," observed Madame Beavor, in rather a piqued tone, to the Pole, who had not said a word since the roti. "Madame, an exile is always triste: I think of my pauvre pays." "Bah!" cried Mr. Love. "Think that there is no exile by the side of a belle dame." The Pole smiled mournfully. "Pull it," said Madame Beavor, holding a cracker to the patriot, and turning away her face.
It needed only to restore this to its original state of tarry fibre, when they would be provided with wick enough to keep the lamp long burning. It was the lamp itself, or rather the cooking furnace, that caused them uneasiness. They had none. The tiny tin vessel that had already served for a single meal would never do for the grand roti they now designed making.
Robert Falconer was watching that table, too.... Perhaps she would not return till late; perhaps he would have only a tiny time with her that evening.... And he had not been able to buy out that man's berth upon the steamer.... Consommé and whitebait, boeuf rôti and haricots vert and crême de cérises succeeded one another in deepening gloom. The whole dinner over, and she had not appeared!
They carry on this banter through several letters. Cicero regrets that he has been unable as yet to pay his threatened visit, when his friend would have seen what advances he had made in gastronomic science. He was able now to eat through the whole bill of fare "from the eggs to the roti". You will have to do with a man who can eat, and who knows what's what.
None of that hope deferred, when, after being worried through a dozen stews and entrees, you are rewarded at last with an infinitesimal fragment of the roti. Nor, on the other hand, the unwelcome surprise of three supplementary courses and a dessert, when you have already dined to repletion, and feel yourself at peace with all the world.
What waiter what cook can possibly respect men who take no soup, and begin with a roti; who know neither what is good nor what is bad; who eat rognons at dinner instead of at breakfast, and fall into raptures over sauce Robert and pieds de cochon; who cannot tell, at the first taste, whether the beaune is premiere qualite, or the fricassee made of yesterday's chicken; who suffer in the stomach after champignon, and die with indigestion of a truffle?
"Ah! qu'il est heureux. Et Cupidon où est-il?" "II est ici, au coin, madame. Il boude." "Qu'est-ce qu'il a fait donc?" "Ah, madame! Il a volé le dindon rôti, et l'a tout mangé." "Ah, le petit polisson! Venez ici, Cupidon."
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