Alfred; or, The Adventures of a French Gentleman — page 52: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN, 39 «© And Madame Champignon ?” ‘¢ Cold in the earth as a kidney-potato,” was the answer, accom- panied by another sigh more deplorable than the former. ‘¢ That comely creature!” cried Belle-Rose, affecting a melan- choly tone of voice, and assuming a comic-serious air, on purpose to draw out the communicative gastronomer. «« She was, indeed, a rare morsel—plump as a partridge—lively as an eel—and tender as a chicken!” exclaimed Champignon, eulogising in his own peculiar style his departed consort. ‘* Me- seems that I see her still,” he continued, with tears in his eyes— ‘her sleeves tucked up above her elbows, beating eggs for my ome- lettes aux fines herbes, or picking raisins for the plum-puddings with which those gluttonous and coarse-feeding English deliglit to gorge themselves.” ‘© Doubtless ’twas a pretty spectacle,” remarked Belle-Rose. ‘¢ In sooth was it—while her very mouth watered at the daintics she so craftily prepared.” 7 ‘‘ Craftily indeed! her reputation for disguising a cat en gibe- lotte, and for serving up horse-flesh as filet de bawuf saule, was pro- verbial in the neighbourhood,” returned Belle-Rose. ‘¢Gad! you knew her well!” exclaimed the delighted Champignon, not at all ashamed of this exposure of the arcana of his late kitchen. ‘+ A dearer woman never entered a larder, nor served vin ordinazre at thirty sows instead of seven-franc Bordeaux !” At this moment a terrible noise was heard at the entrance of the barn that looked into a field adjoining the road, and hali-a-dozen cows, impelled from their pasturage by the violence of the storm, and instinctively seeking the shed in which they were penned up at night, rushed amongst the convicts and the Gendarmes in a manner the most unceremonious. An universal shout on the part of the besieged, at this rude attack, terrified the intrusive animais ; and Champignon, who stood foremost, was overthrown in a heap of manure. His wig fell off; and in stretching out his hand to recover it, he caught hold of one of the cows’ tails, and was dragged several paces before he would relinquish his grasp, so per- fectly was he overcome by fear as to be convinced in his own mind that he held his wig. The convict, who was chained to Champig- non, was dragged forward with him, as the fetters that attached them together were not of an extraordinary length. The retreat of the cows at last restored order; and Champignon’s wig, discovered amidst the same dirt into which he himself had fallen, was restored in statu quo to its owner’s head by the hand of Belle-Rose, while a hearty laugh at the appearance of the ex-restaurateur, who was disguised in filth that even clung to his perruque, resounded from every individual present save himself and De Rosann. ‘‘ Never mind,” exclaimed Belle-Rose in a consolatory tone of voice; ‘* the rain will wash it all off again.” ‘‘ That’s true,” returned Champignon with a horrible grimace ; ‘* but at present I feel like a perdrix aux choux.” In about a quarter of an hour the clouds cleared partially away from the face of heaven—the sun broke through the opening va- CORNICE OOOKS (CO)