“You have a chef of the first order, Madame,” said M. de Norpois, “and that is no small matter. I myself, who have had, when abroad, to maintain a certain style in housekeeping, I know how difficult it often is to find a perfect master-cook. But this is a positive banquet that you have set before us!”

And indeed Françoise, in the excitement of her ambition to make a success, for so distinguished a guest, of a dinner the preparation of which had been obstructed by difficulties worthy of her powers, had given herself such trouble as she no longer took when we were alone, and had recaptured her incomparable Combray manner.

“That is a thing you can’t get in a chophouse⁠—in the best of them, I mean; a spiced beef in which the jelly does not taste of glue and the beef has caught the flavour of the carrots; it is admirable! Allow me to come again,” he went on, making a sign to show that he wanted more of the jelly. “I should be interested to see how your Vatel managed a dish of quite a different kind; I should like, for instance, to see him tackle a bœuf Stroganoff.”