Nevertheless, from habit, he obeyed his daughter, giving her credit for a certain amount of perspicuity and cleverness.
The kitchens of the Grand Babylon Hotel are one of the wonders of Europe.
Only three years before the events now under narration Felix Babylon had had them newly installed with every device and patent that the ingenuity of two continents could supply.

They covered nearly an acre of superficial space.
They were walled and floored from end to end with tiles and marble, which enabled them to be washed down every morning like the deck of a man-of-war.
Visitors were sometimes taken to see the potato-paring machine, the patent plate-dryer, the Babylon-spit (a contrivance of Felix Babylon's own), the silver-grill, the system of connected stock-pots, and other amazing phenomena of the department.

Sometimes, if they were fortunate, they might also see the artist who sculptured ice into forms of men and beasts for table ornaments, or the first napkin-folder in London, or the man who daily invented fresh designs for pastry and blancmanges.
Twelve chefs pursued their labours in those kitchens, helped by ninety assistant chefs, and a further army of unconsidered menials.

Over all these was Rocco, supreme and unapproachable.

Half-way along the suite of kitchens, Rocco had an apartment of his own, wherein he thought out those magnificent combinations, those marvellous feats of succulence and originality, which had given him his fame.