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Updated: May 25, 2025
Once outside I began to tremble like a peuplier in l'automne.... "L'automne humide et monotone." "Allez en bas, pour la soupe" the Wooden Hand said not unkindly. I looked about me. "There will be no more men before the commission until to-morrow," the Wooden Hand said. "Go get your dinner in the kitchen." I descended.
Père Olivier apologized for the meager fare, but we did well enough, with soup and a tin of boiled beef, breadfruit, and feis. The soup was of a red vegetable, not appetizing, and I could not make out the native name for it, hue arahi, until Grelet cried, "Ah, j'ai trouvé le mot anglais! Ponkeen, ponkeen!" It was a red pumpkin. "La soupe maigre de missionaire," murmured the priest.
As they went out of the house Miss Coniston ran after Madame Frabelle and said eagerly: 'Oh, do tell me again; you say soupe a la vinaigre is marvellously nourishing and economical. I can have it made for my brother at our flat? 'Of course you can! It costs next to nothing. Arthur Coniston came up. 'And tastes like nothing on earth, I suppose? he grumbled in his sister's ear.
Establish a moderate price at all these residences, and you alone will furnish wines to my household." This arrangement was made, and all kinds of fraud were impossible, as the deputy of M. Soupe Pierrugues delivered wines only on a note signed by the controller of the kitchen; all the bottles not opened were returned, and each evening an account was given of what had been used for that day.
He summoned the chief of the household service, Soupe Pierrugues, and said to him, "Monsieur, I commit to you the keys of my imperial cellars; you will there have charge of the wines of all kinds; some are needed in my palaces of the Tuileries, Saint-Cloud, Compiegne, Fontainebleau, Marrac, Lacken, and Turin.
As each man received his own, he fell upon it with a sudden guzzle. Eventually, in front of me, solemnly sat a faintly-smoking urine-coloured circular broth, in which soggily hung half-suspended slabs of raw potato. Following the example of my neighbours, I too addressed myself to La Soupe. I found her luke-warm, completely flavourless. I examined the hunk of bread.
The old man had, it appeared, come out of Picardy, where he lived on soupe maigre in a corner of the ancestral castle, while his son and daughter were at court, the one in Monsieur's suite, the other in that of the Queen-mother. He had come purely to meet his dear young cousin, and render him all the assistance is his power, conduct him to Paris, and give him introductions.
Peas were the great stand-by, and in the old days whole families were reared upon soupe aux pois, which was, and may even still be said to be, the national dish of the French Canadians. Beans, cucumbers, melons, and a dozen other products were also grown in the family gardens.
"Bref, la Presidence est arrivee a la prefecture trempee comme une soupe a l'oignon et fortement dessalee." Verily there is no tongue like the French for saying nasty things in a nasty way.
Establish a moderate price at all these residences, and you alone will furnish wines to my household." This arrangement was made, and all kinds of fraud were impossible, as the deputy of M. Soupe Pierrugues delivered wines only on a note signed by the controller of the kitchen; all the bottles not opened were returned, and each evening an account was given of what had been used for that day.
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