"These I picked the book from. Five compeers in flank Stood left and right of it as tempting more-- A dog's-eared Spicilegium, the fond tale O' the frail one of the Flower, by young Dumas, Vulgarised Horace for the use of schools, The Life, Death, Miracles of Saint Somebody, Saint Somebody Else, his Miracles, Death and Life."

"Well, the choice which lay before me on one particular barrow was fully as wide, or perhaps wider than that which met the poet's eye, but after I had espied a little yellow paper-covered book with the t.i.tle La Cucina Partenopea, overo il Paradiso dei gastronomi, I looked no farther. What infinite possibilities of pleasure might lie hidden under such a name.

I secured it, together with the Story of Barlaam and Josaphat, for thirty-five centesimi, and handed over the coins to the hungry-eyed old man in charge, who regretted, I am sure, when he saw the eager look upon my face, that he had not marked the books a lira at least. I should now be a rich woman if I had spent all the money I have spent as profitably as those seven sold. Besides being a master in the art of cookery, the author was a moral philosopher as well; and he addresses his reader in prefatory words which bespeak a profound knowledge of life. He writes: 'Though the time of man here on earth is pa.s.sed in a never-ending turmoil, which must make him often curse the moment when he opened his eyes on such a world; though life itself must often become irksome or even intolerable, nevertheless, by G.o.d's blessing, one supreme consolation remains for this wretched body of ours. I allude to that moment when, the forces being spent and the stomach craving support, the wearied mortal sits down to face a good dinner. Here is to be found an effectual balm for the ills of life: something to drown all remembrance of our ill-humours, the worries of business, or even family quarrels.

In sooth, it is only at table that a man may bid the devil fly away with Solomon and all his wisdom, and give himself up to an earthly delight, which is a pleasure and a profit at the same time.'"

"The circ.u.mstances under which this precious book was found seem to suggest a culinary poem on the model of the 'Ring and the Book,"' said Mrs. Sinclair, "or we might deal with the story in practical shape by letting every one of us prepare the same dish. I fancy the individual renderings of the same recipe would vary quite as widely as the versions of the unsavoury story set forth in Mr. Browning's little poem."

"I think we had better have a supplementary day for a trial of the sort Mrs. Sinclair suggests," said Miss Macdonnell. "I speak with the memory of a preparation of liver I tasted yesterday in the kitchen--one of the dishes which did not appear at dinner."

"That is rather hard on the Colonel," said Van der Roet; "he did his best, and now, see how hard he is trying to look as if he didn't know what you are alluding to!"

"I never in all my life--" the Colonel began; but the Marchesa, fearing a storm, interfered. "I have a lot more to tell you about my little Neapolitan book," she went on, "and I will begin by saying that, for the future, we cannot do better than make free use of it. The author opens with an announcement that he means to give exact quant.i.ties for every dish, and then, like a true Neapolitan, lets quant.i.ties go entirely, and adopts the rule-of-thumb system. And I must say I always find the question of quant.i.ties a difficult one. Some books give exact measures, each dish being reckoned enough for four persons, with instructions to increase the measures in proportion to the additional number of diners but here a rigid rule is impossible, for a dish which is to serve by itself, as a supper or a lunch, must necessarily be bigger than one which merely fills one place in a dinner menu. Quant.i.ties can be given approximately in many cases, but flavouring must always be a question of individual taste. Lat.i.tude must be allowed, for all cooks who can turn out distinguished work will be found to be endowed with imagination, and these, being artists, will never consent to follow a rigid rule of quant.i.ty. To put it briefly, cooks who need to be told everything, will never cook properly, even if they be told more than everything. And after all, no one takes seriously the quant.i.ties given by the chef of a millionaire or a prince; witness the cook of the Prince de Soubise, who demanded fifty hams for the sauces and garnitures of a single supper, and when the Prince protested that there could not possibly be found s.p.a.ce for them all on the table, offered to put them all into a gla.s.s bottle no bigger than his thumb. Some of Francatelli's quant.i.ties are also prodigious, as, for instance, when to make a simple glaze he calls for three pounds of gravy beef, the best part of a ham, a knuckle of veal, an old hen, and two partridges."

Menu--Lunch

Maccheroni al sugillo. Macaroni with sausage and tomatoes.

Manzo in insalata. Beef, pressed and marinated.

Lingue di vitello all'Italiana. Calves' tongues.

Menu--Dinner.

Zuppa alla Modanese. Modenese soup.

Merluzzo in salamoia. Cod with sauce piquante.

Pollastro in istufa di pomidoro. Stewed chicken with tomatoes.

Porcelletto farcito alla Corradino. Stuffed suckling pig.

Insalata alla Navarino. Navarino salad.

Bodino di semolino. Semolina pudding.

Frittura di cocozze. Fried cuc.u.mber.

The Fifth Day

The following day was very warm, and some half-dozen of the party wandered into the garden after lunch and took their coffee under a big chestnut tree on the lawn. "And this is the 16th of June," said Lady Considine. "Last year, on this very day, I started for Hombourg. I can't say I feel like starting for Hombourg, or any other place, just at present."

"But why should any one of us want to go to Hombourg?" said Sir John.

"n.o.body can be afraid of gout with the admirable diet we enjoy here."

"I beg you to speak for yourself, Sir John," said Lady Considine. "I have never yet gone to Hombourg on account of gout."

"Of course not, my dear friend, of course not; there are so many reasons for going to Hombourg. There's the early rising, and the band, and the new people one may meet there, and the change of diet--especially the change of diet. But, you see, we have found our change of diet within an hour of London, so why--as I before remarked--should we want to rush off to Hombourg?"

"I am a firm believer in that change of diet," said Mrs. Wilding, "though in the most respectable circles the true-bred Briton still talks about foreign messes, and affirms that anything else than plain British fare ruins the digestion. I must say my own digestion is none the worse for the holiday I am having from the preparations of my own 'treasure.'

I think we all look remarkably well; and we don't quarrel or snap at each other, and it would be hard to find a better proof of wholesome diet than that."

"But I fancied Mrs. Gradinger looked a little out of sorts this morning, and I'm sure she was more than a little out of temper when I asked her how soon we were to taste her dish of toadstools," said Miss Macdonnell.

"I expect she had been making a trial of the British fungi in her bedroom," said Van der Roet; "and then, you see, our conversation isn't quite 'high toned' enough for her taste. We aren't sufficiently awake to the claims of the ma.s.ses. Can any one explain to me why the people who are so full of mercy for the ma.s.s, are so merciless to the unit?"

"That is her system of proselytising," said the Colonel, "and if she is content with outward conversion, it isn't a bad one. I often feel inclined to agree to any proposition she likes to put forward, and I would, if I could stop her talking by my submission."

"You wouldn't do that, Colonel, even in your suavest mood," said Van der Roet; "but I hope somebody will succeed in checking her flow of discourse before long. I'm getting worn to a shadow by the grind of that awful voice."

"I thought your clothes were getting a bit loose," said the Colonel, "but I put that phenomenon down to another reason. In spite of Mrs.

Wilding's praise of our present style of cooking, I don't believe our friend Vander finds it substantial enough to sustain his manly bulk, and I'll tell you the grounds of my belief. A few mornings ago, when I was shaving, I saw the butcher bring into the house a splendid sirloin, and as no sirloin has appeared at table, I venture to infer that this joint was a private affair of Vander's, and that he, as well as Mrs.

Gradinger, has been going in for bedroom cookery. Here comes the Marchesa; we'll ask her to solve the mystery."

"I can account for the missing sirloin," said the Marchesa. "The Colonel is wrong for once. It went duly into the kitchen, and not to Mr. Van der Roet's bedroom; but I must begin with a slight explanation, or rather apology. Next to trial by jury, and the reverence paid to rank, and the horror of all things which, as poor Corney Grain used to say, 'are not nice,' I reckon the Sunday sirloin, cooked and served, one and indivisible as the typical fetish of the great English middle cla.s.s.

With this fact before my eyes, I can a.s.sure you I did not lightly lay a hand on its integrity. My friends, you have eaten that sirloin without knowing it. You may remember that yesterday after lunch the Colonel was loud in praise of a dish of beef. Well, that beef was a portion of the same, and not the best portion. The Manzo in insalata, which pleased the Colonel's palate, was that thin piece at the lower end, the chief function of which, when the sirloin is cooked whole, seems to lie in keeping the joint steady on the dish while paterfamilias carves it. It is never eaten in the dining-room hot, because every one justly prefers and goes for the under cut; neither does it find favour at lunch next day, for the reason that, as cold beef, the upper cut is unapproachable.

I have never heard that the kitchen hankers after it inordinately; indeed, its ultimate destination is one of the unexplained mysteries of housekeeping. I hold that never, under any circ.u.mstances, should it be cooked with the sirloin, but always cut off and marinated and braized as we had it yesterday. Thus you get two hot dishes; our particular sirloin has given us three. The parts of this joint vary greatly in flavour, and in texture as well, and by accentuating this variation by treatment in the kitchen, you escape that monotony which is p.r.o.ne to pervade the table so long as the sirloin remains in the house. Mrs. Sinclair is sufficiently experienced as a housekeeper to know that the dish of fillets we had for dinner last night was not made from the under cut of one sirloin. It was by borrowing a little from the upper part that I managed to fill the dish, and I'm sure that any one who may have got one of the uppercut fillets had no cause to grumble. The Filetto di Bue which we had for lunch to-day was the residue of the upper cut, and, admirable as is a slice of cold beef taken from this part of the joint, I think it is an excellent variation to make a hot dish of it sometimes.

On the score of economy, I am sure that a sirloin treated in this fashion goes a long way further."

"The Marchesa demolishes one after another of our venerable inst.i.tutions with so charming a despatch that we can scarcely grieve for them," said Sir John. "I am not philosopher enough to divine what change may come over the British character when every man sits down every day to a perfectly cooked dinner. It is sometimes said that our barbarian forefathers left their northern solitudes because they hankered after the wine and delicate meats of the south, and perhaps the modern Briton may have been led to overrun the world by the hope of finding a greater variety of diet than he gets at home. It may mean, Marchesa, that this movement of yours for the suppression of English plain cooking will mark the close of our national expansion."

"My dear Sir John, you may rest a.s.sured that your national expansion, as well as your national cookery, will continue in spite of anything we may accomplish here, and I say good luck to them both. When have I ever denied the merits of English cookery?" said the Marchesa. "Many of its dishes are unsurpa.s.sed. These islands produce materials so fine, that no art or elaboration can improve them. They are best when they are cooked quite plainly, and this is the reason why simplicity is the key-note of English cookery. A fine joint of mutton roasted to a turn, a plain fried sole with anchovy b.u.t.ter a broiled chop or steak or kidney, fowls or game cooked English fashion, potatoes baked in their skins and eaten with b.u.t.ter and salt, a rasher of Wiltshire bacon and a new-laid egg, where will you beat these? I will go so far as to say no country can produce a bourgeoises dish which can be compared with steak and kidney pudding. But the point I want to press home is that Italian cookery comes to the aid of those who cannot well afford to buy those prime qualities of meat and fish which allow of this perfectly plain treatment. It is, as I have already said, the cookery of a nation short of cash and unblessed with such excellent meat and fish and vegetables as you lucky islanders enjoy. But it is rich in clever devices of flavouring, and in combinations, and I am sure that by its help English people of moderate means may fare better and spend less than they spend now, if only they will take a little trouble."

Menu--Lunch

Gnocchi alla Romana. Semolina with parmesan.

Filetto di Bue al pistacchi. Fillet of beef with pistachios Bodini marinati. Marinated rissoles.

Menu--Dinner.

Zuppa Crotopo. Croute au pot soup.

Sogliole alla Veneziana. Fillets of sole.

Ateletti alla Sarda. Atelets of ox-palates, &c.

Costolette di Montone alla Nizzarda. Mutton cutlets.

Pollo alla Fiorentina. Fowl with macaroni.

Crema tartara alla Caramella. Caramel cream.

Uova rimescolati al tartufi. Eggs with truffles.

The Sixth Day

The following morning, at breakfast, a servant announced that Sir John Oglethorpe was taking his breakfast in his room, and that there was no need to keep anything in reserve for him. It was stated, however, that Sir John was in no way indisposed, and that he would join the party at lunch.

He seated himself in his usual place, placid and fresh as ever; but, unharmed as he was physically, it was evident to all the company that he was suffering from some mental discomposure. Miss Macdonnell, with a frank curiosity which might have been trying in any one else, asked him point-blank the reason of his absence from the meal for which, in spite of his partiality for French cookery, he had a true Englishman's devotion.

"I feel I owe the company some apology for my apparent churlishness," he said; "but the fact is, that I have received some very harrowing, but at the same time very interesting, news this morning. I think I told you the other day how the vacancy in my kitchen has led up to a very real tragedy, and that the abhorred Fury was already hovering terribly near the head of poor Narcisse. Well, I have just received from a friend in Paris journals containing a full account of the trial of Narcisse and of his fair accomplice. The worst has come to pa.s.s, and Narcisse has been doomed to sneeze into the basket like a mere aristocrat or politician during the Terror I was greatly upset by this news, but I was interested, and in a measure consoled, to find an enclosure amongst the other papers, an envelope addressed to me in the handwriting of the condemned man. This voix d'outre tombe, I rejoice to say, confides to me the secret of that incomparable sauce of his, a secret which I feared might be buried with Narcisse in the prison ditch."

The Marchesa sighed as she listened. The recipe of the sauce was safe indeed, but she knew by experience how wide might be the gulf between the actual work of an artist and the product of another hand guided by his counsels, let the hand be ever so dexterous, and the counsels ever so clear. "Will it be too much," she said, "to ask you to give us the details of this painful tragedy?"