“And cooks?”

“Excellent!”

“Well, a fowl, fish, game⁠—it signifies little, so that I eat.”

“As your excellency pleases. You mentioned a fowl, I think?”

“Yes, a fowl.”

Peppino, turning around, shouted, “A fowl for his excellency!” His voice yet echoed in the archway when a handsome, graceful, and half-naked young man appeared, bearing a fowl in a silver dish on his head, without the assistance of his hands.

“I could almost believe myself at the Café de Paris,” murmured Danglars.