Maitre Guillot's Easter pie had been a splendid success. "It was
worthy," he said, "to be placed as a crown on top of the new
Cathedral of St. Marie, and receive the consecration of the Bishop."
Lest the composition of it should be forgotten, Maitre Guillot had,
with the solemnity of a deacon intoning the Litany, ravished the ear
of Jules Painchaud, his future son-in-law, as he taught him the
secrets of its confection.
With his white cap set rakishly on one side of his head and arms
akimbo, Maitre Guillot gave Jules the famous recipe:
"Inside of circular walls of pastry an inch thick, and so rich as
easily to be pulled down, and roomy enough within for the Court of
King Pepin, lay first a thick stratum of mince-meat of two savory
hams of Westphalia, and if you cannot get them, of two hams of our
habitans."
"Of our habitans!" ejaculated Jules, with an air of consternation.
"Precisely! don't interrupt me!" Maitre Guillot grew red about the
gills in an instant. Jules was silenced. "I have said it!" cried
he; "two hams of our habitans! what have you to say against it--
stock fish, eh?"
"Oh, nothing, sir," replied Jules, with humility, "only I thought--"
Poor Jules would have consented to eat his thought rather than fall
out with the father of his Susette.
Pages:
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416