The Richmond palladium and sun-telegram. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1907-1939, 1909-05-15
,ssyrish.. 1909. BY Benz. 3. Hampton.

sEly1ian-llke Q1eneS borne 10 tnem from
that land Of pleasant odors-the kitchen; softly.
In low serious tones. they conversed with Monsieur
Casserole, the proprietor. who lowered over them
with thin hands clasped and the hope that all was
we'll Scornfully, rightly indignant that mercenary
matters should have theii place in dinner at the
Cote dor. they laid the amount Of their score
on the counter In front of Madame Casserole. who
rat there In her little cage year after year. smi
Ing benignantly upon all her encored chin.
All, what cafe was that
1t was not first of all, place to eat; it was
rather q quiet nook where, over an incidental cor
iial. one might dream oneself back across the sea
and under the sidewalk awnings of the gay CITY, In
the shade Of the absinthe frapee.
Into the sacred precincts Of the Cote dor one
uight stranger roamed and Monsieur Casserole
will tell you that he slipped delightedly his wine,
and fingered. 10th to over the delicious omelet
soune. Then with nod he summoned the pro-
prietor and spoke most pompously.
J. This omelet," said the stranger, indicating an
empty dish, has pleased me more than can say.
am most anxious to go into your kitchen and
IN person thank the master of cookery who made
t."
Sacre bleu! what wild indignity to propose.
70 suggest thus calmly journey. the great OF
he earth might we'll have taken with trepidation;
% imagine thus cooly the interruption of Adolphe
IN his own stronghold; to risk thus ruthessly the
destruction Of another omelet such as this just
eaten. And for what. pray? For the paltry ex-
:use of saying to him whose cookery had brought
an emperor's smile: For your omelet thank
YOU" Mon Dieu! Monsieur Casserole, usually
polite, stif1ened almost rudey. as he informed his
unknown guest:
"what Monsieur suggests is quite impossible
And 50 1t was.
There had been those who had been granted
such audiences The number of the worthy was
nve and all OF these, long before the honor had
sought them out, had known the master by his
works had worshpped from afar, and had sent.
now and again, by the dignity Of Monsieur Casse-
role, words Of alteration and fealty. There was
Dupree, who had dreamed Of seeing his paintings
In the Salon, but who saw them only as stirring
scenes for Third Avenue melodrama; also little
Margaret Gates who wrote for the magazines. only
most OF them didn't know It yet, and whom Dupree
would have married had she not already been mar
rted to her Art az we'll as unfortunately possessed
Of 1 chin that would not allow her to sue for
divorce even in the hungry days when she might
easily have obtained 1t the ground OF nom
support. And there Masters. the lean medical
student, who dreamed Of feats of surgery. carving
cadavers by day and the coteettes of the Cote dor
By night and Hargrave. hack OF hacks, who ground
out jokes-clipped them from Western newspapers,
his enemies said-for comic operas that brought
other men fame And lastly Betty Martn-tnose
who follow the society column in one OF the big
daies have seen that not in the list OF those
present but az the signature at the bottom of the
story. Such was the roll of the privileged
Such was the roster Of the ave who. dining to-
eether late one evening in the Cafe Cote dor all
unsuspecting Of the honor that was about TO fall
upon them. came finally into the presence OF the
cook who had sent them daily for months beautiful
evidence OF his ability to fulfill the glowing prom
lse OF the Cote doris card.
Adolphe stood In the center Of his kitchen. mass
I've. bald even below his snowy cap. his cherubic
face undecided between a smile and frown as
the proper badge Of greatness but leaning slightly
toward the latter-in the midst OF the tools OF his
trade in the center of his marvellous kitchen-ah.
that kitchen
At last Adolphe spoke; soft. pleasing was his
voice. Afterwards they told one another that at
sound Of his they were reminded OF the liquid
smoothness Of his bouillabaisse.
"You think great" he said and they made
no attempt to deny It: 'tyou call me master OF
cooks, and not for one moment have you guess
the secret Of my power. It lies here and he
lifted fold Of his spotless apron. while the nve
marveled, here, in this, my apron. To you may
be- apron. nothing else. To me-parbleu! all
what you say-divine hre Twenty year ago he
give It to me-he. my teacher. the great MASTER
Bertrand de Bouillon himself, Of Paris. From
himself he took 1t, and to me It was given. Never
am without it. At night carry 1t to my home.
and Nanette ma femme makes it white for the
morrow. As the painter the sculptor has his
model to furnish the pattern-ah, the inspiration
so to me ID the apron Of Bertrand de Bouillon.
without it-morbleu! that which cook you would
not eat. For my hlets. my omelets. my escargots.
thank not me. Think not of OF him only
think-of Bertrand de Bouillon. he of the far-of
Paris who made known TO me the I..lest thing
know; who gave me his apron that might wear
X to his glory snd that OF France. ventre-bleu!
what ! MAJ was :hasi'
They talked no more that night OF At. hut the
theme OF their ds.-,urse asways this wonder
ful apron. tbs g:ft Of Bertrand dc Bouillon. the
miyhty chef q whom they had heard. They spccu-
lAeAi - tbs texture Of this BIT % cloth upon
wkic> hung the destiny Of their precio.s ca:c and
- tho pcrsonalit5 = the wife. Nanette, to whom
4 vAs 1xtf1ssed eA>A night, that she might ~
sore 4 % whit4ness While IT. wearer slept. gath
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