Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1888-11-02
THE PIGEON PIE.

which on the day of Pentecost descended on
the apostles in tongues of fire, is usually rep
resented under the airy and charming form
of white dove. From that came an old
gastronomic custom which is not without its
charm. In some parts of France they cele-
brate Whitsuntide by eating with evident
relish at the family table fine pigeon stew
or pie, which they piously sprinkle with the
contents of bottles long under SEAL Very
fattering to the memory of the apostles, this
culinary homage, but doubtless less agreea-
BILE to the pigeons But that is not the point
of this sketch. which concerns story, or
rather real adventure, which l witnessed
in my boyhood.
In her pretty villa on the banks of the
Loire, the Baroness Alice do Maiheury, an
adorable widow of twenty-five springs, had
on Whitsunday quiet, social dinner party,
at which was to figure, with honors, pigeon
pie prepared by her own delicate hands.
Chief among her invited quests was the
young Capt. de Sabresac. called by the ladies
the handsome Roland. He was counting,
openly and conspicuously, the pretty widow,
of whom he was at once the sutton and the
friend. Handsome as Mars, straight as a
lance, solidly nodded as a gun, brave and
loyal as his sword, the captain had but one
fault, perhaps, that of having been born in
castle on the margin of the Garonne He
made others conscious of his Artagnan pecu-
harities, and had somewhat boastful cour-
age, with true Gascon valor. Alice, who
suffered from his exaggerations, thought his
stories were told in all sincerity, was vexed
at these braggings, always amusing and often
witty, which she could not correct. This
r L + L y L
were a Gascon mirage in his brain.
Dinner is announced, Roland offers his arm
to the baroness They seat themselves at the
table, Immediately after the soup my cap
tain begins to relate his feats of proves with
all his well known energy. Alice contracts
her beautiful and finely arched eyebrows and
bites her rosy lips.
"So,my dear captain, you have never known
what fear was in your liteg
"Never, baronessi except the fear Of dis
pleasing you. Otherwise have always re-
manned as impasslv We as this salt cellar"
s'By the way" asks with curiosity the
blonde Aliette de Toisac, what is that story
about the wolf2'
''Oh! very simple affair. I was fifteen
driven from his den by snow and hunger,
J
castle. Armed with pitchforks and clubs the
servants ran in, but at the sight Of his grin
ming jaws, ornamented with formidable
tusks, his quivering tail and his wild eyes
which burned like live Goals, no one dares to
go near him. Then 1 come forward as
though about to pick strawberry, and I
fasten a saucepan to the VOLTS tail, then
stepping back clap my hands sharply. At
the noise the game sets off dragging his tin
ware, and he is still running"
''Bravo!" exclaimed the gracious Julia
d'Artinsec, land your wild boar. 1t seems,
captain, that you almost missed him."
"Come now, had left the military school
at Saint Cyr to spend my vacation in the
Ardennes with my cousin, Bernard de Haute-
futail. One morning went into the woods
to gather bouquet of honeysuckle for my
cousin Bertha, who has the prettiest foot in
the world. Suddenly I caught sight of
boar asleep in his lair. To tell the truth I
was only youngster, solid enough other
wise, particularly in mathematics and love
making. l throw a stone and it falls di-
rectly on the recluse. Making bound he
charges on me with unheard of fury. For
arms sword cane-that is all. The boar is
dead. A gamekeeper comes and we cut up
the monster A few hours later offered my
cousin Bertha the head of my victim, bear
ing in its horrible jaws delicious bouquet
of honeysuckle."
"Have you not also story of a goat which
is very dramatic?" asks the fascinating
Countess of Beausolel.
''That is a story of another sort. l was
second lieutenant, in garrison at Tarbes.
While gathering some herbs on the mountain
encountered a flock of goats, guarded by
an enormous buck with gigantic horns I
stroke him gently down the back. This IA
miliarity displeases him. Suddenly he goes
off few steps, strikes the ground with his
bronze foot, lowers his big head and pounces
down on me with the impetuosity of an ava
lanche. The goats take flight and the goat
herd cries out that am dead. By spring,
skillfully calculated, avoid the shock of the
creature, leap on his back, seize him by his
beard, throw him over, blind him with the
dust of the road and strangle him with my
handkerchief. A rattle sounds in his throat,
he chokes, he is dead. The goatherd comes
I indemnify him for the loss of the beast,
which I leave there, reserving for myself
only the horns"
s'As for me-" cries the lively Renee de
Puyfera, II want my bear. demand my
bear"
81 serve him to you, madame I was in
Switzerland, climbing n wild mountain in
merry company. Soon l find myself quite
distance from my companion climbers, being
belated by my task of gathering roses"
Doubtless for your cousin BERTHA" inter-
rupted the baroness.
mo, madame, for my mother, who was
kept at the hotel by a slight illness. ] con-
tinue my story. Suddenly hear fright
full growing. turn and see a magnificent
bear about to eat some Strawberries call
him by his name. Good morning, Martin,
look smart, my friend. Come, Martin, sup
pose you dance the bourree little while for
mep Wounded in his feelings, perhaps, at
being taken for an Auvergne bear when he
was a Swiss, friend Martin rises on his hind
paws and comes straight toward me, his
arms stretched out like an old comrade who
is coming to embrace you. At the moment
when he is about to press me against his
shaggy breast, skillfully bury little dag
ger in his hearth The next day invited my
friends to breakfast on my adversary. The
stakes, ladies, were excellent"