The concierge of the palace where your Excellency lives brought it himself, and said it must be delivered immediately." "Very well, go and fetch it," replied Julien, who could not suppress a smile at the honor paid his dwelling, "and I will remain here and talk with my doctor, while he gives me the prescription for this morning--that is to say, his bill of fare.

Guess whence I come, Brancadori," he added, assured of first stirring the cook's curiosity, then his power of speech.

"From the Palais Castagna, where they are selling everything." "Ah! Per Bacco!" exclaimed the Tuscan, with evident sorrow upon his old parchment-like face, scorched from forty years of cooking.

"If the deceased Prince Urban can see it in the other world, his heart will break, I assure you.

The last time he came to dine here, about ten years ago, on Saint Joseph's Day, he said to me: 'Make me some fritters, Egiste, like those we used to have at Monsieur d'Epinag's, Monsieur Clairin's, Fortuny's, and poor Henri Regnault's.' And he was happy! 'Egiste,' said he to me, 'I can die contented! I have only one son, but I shall leave him six millions and the palace.