A Versailles Christmas-Tide | Page 6

Madame's selection was an affair
of time. Our hotel was justly noted for its cuisine, yet on infrequent
occasions the food supplied to Madame was not to her mind. At these
times the whole establishment suffered until the irascible old lady's
taste was suited. One night at dinner Iorson had the misfortune to serve
Madame with some turkey that failed to meet with her approval. With
the air of an insulted empress, Madame ordered its removal. The
conciliatory Iorson obediently carried off the dish and speedily returned,
bearing what professed to be another portion. But from the glimpse we
got as it passed our table we had a shrewd suspicion that Iorson the
wily had merely turned over the piece of turkey and re-served it with a
little more gravy and an additional dressing of cressons. Madame, it
transpired, shared our suspicions, for this portion also she declined,
with renewed indignation. Then followed a long period of waiting,
wherein Madame, fidgeting restlessly on her seat, kept fierce eyes fixed
on the door through which the viands entered.

Just as her impatience threatened to vent itself in action, Iorson
appeared bearing a third helping of turkey. Placing it before the irate
lady, he fled as though determined to debar a third repudiation. For a
moment an air of triumph pervaded Madame's features. Then she began
to gesticulate violently, with the evident intention of again attracting
Iorson's notice. But the forbearance even of the diplomatic Iorson was
at an end. Re-doubling his attentions to the diners at the farther side of
the room, he remained resolutely unconscious of Madame's signals,
which were rapidly becoming frantic.
The less sophisticated Henri, however, feeling a boyish interest in the
little comedy, could not resist a curious glance in Madame's direction.
That was sufficient. Waving imperiously, Madame compelled his
approach, and, moving reluctantly, fearful of the issue, Henri advanced.
"Couteau!" hissed Madame. Henri flew to fetch the desired implement,
and, realising that Madame had at last been satisfied, we again breathed
freely.
A more attractive personage was a typical old aristocrat, officer of the
Legion of Honour, who used to enter, walk with great dignity to his
table, eat sparingly of one or two dishes, drink a glass of his vin
ordinaire and retire. Sometimes he was accompanied by a tiny spaniel,
which occupied a chair beside him; and frequently a middle-aged son,
whose bourgeois appearance was in amazing contrast to that of his
refined old father, attended him.
[Illustration: The Aristocrat]
There were others, less interesting perhaps, but equally self-absorbed.
One afternoon, entering the cable car that runs--for fun, apparently, as
it rarely boasted a passenger--to and from the Trianon, we recognised
in its sole occupant an Ogam who during the weeks of our stay had
eaten, in evident oblivion of his human surroundings, at the table next
to ours. Forgetting that we were without the walls of silence, we
expected no greeting; but to our amazement he rose, and, placing
himself opposite us, conversed affably and in most excellent English
for the rest of the journey. To speak with him was to discover a

courteous and travelled gentleman. Yet during our stay in Versailles we
never knew him exchange even a bow with any of his fellow Ogams,
who were men of like qualifications, though, as he told us, he had taken
his meals in the hotel for over five years.
Early in the year our peace was rudely broken by the advent of a
commercial man--a short, grey-haired being of an activity so foreign to
our usage that a feeling of unrest was imparted to the salle-à-manger
throughout his stay. His movements were distractingly erratic. In his
opinion, meals were things to be treated casually, to be consumed
haphazard at any hour that chanced to suit. He did not enter the
dining-room at the exact moment each day as did the Ogams. He would
rush in, throw his hat on a peg, devour some food with unseemly haste,
and depart in less time than it took the others to reach the légumes.
[Illustration: Papa, Mama et Bébé]
He was hospitable too, and had a disconcerting way of inviting guests
to luncheon or dinner, and then forgetting that he had done so. One
morning a stranger entered, and after a brief conference with Iorson,
was conducted to the commercial man's table to await his arrival. The
regular customers took their wonted places, and began in their leisurely
fashion to breakfast, and still the visitor sat alone, starting up
expectantly every time a door opened, then despondently resuming his
seat.
At last Iorson, taking compassion, urged the neglected guest to while
away his period of waiting by trifling with the hors-d'oeuvres. He was
proceeding to allay the pangs of hunger with selections from the tray of
anchovies,