Soon After I Left You I Repaired To The
House Of Monsieur Le Comte; I Entered The Kitchen, And Looked About
Me.
I cannot say that I had much reason to be dissatisfied with
what I saw; the kitchen was large
And commodious, and every thing
appeared neat and in its proper place, and the domestics civil and
courteous; yet I know not how it was, the idea at once rushed into
my mind that the house was by no means suited to me, and that I was
not destined to stay there long; so hanging my haversac upon a
nail, and sitting down on the dresser, I commenced singing a Greek
song, as I am in the habit of doing when dissatisfied. The
domestics came about me asking questions; I made them no answer,
however, and continued singing till the hour for preparing the
dinner drew nigh, when I suddenly sprang on the floor and was not
long in thrusting them all out of the kitchen, telling them that
they had no business there at such a season; I then at once entered
upon my functions. I exerted myself, mon maitre, I exerted myself,
and was preparing a repast which would have done me honour; there
was, indeed, some company expected that day, and I therefore
determined to show my employer that nothing was beyond the capacity
of his Greek cook. Eh bien, mon maitre, all was going on
remarkably well, and I felt almost reconciled to my new situation,
when who should rush into the kitchen but le fils de la maison, my
young master, an ugly urchin of thirteen years or thereabouts; he
bore in his hand a manchet of bread, which, after prying about for
a moment, he proceeded to dip in the pan where some delicate
woodcocks were in the course of preparation. You know, mon maitre,
how sensitive I am on certain points, for I am no Spaniard but a
Greek, and have principles of honour. Without a moment's
hesitation I took my young master by the shoulders, and hurrying
him to the door, dismissed him in the manner which he deserved;
squalling loudly, he hurried away to the upper part of the house.
I continued my labours, but ere three minutes had elapsed, I heard
a dreadful confusion above stairs, on faisoit une horrible
tintamarre, and I could occasionally distinguish oaths and
execrations: presently doors were flung open, and there was an
awful rushing downstairs, a gallopade. It was my lord the count,
his lady, and my young master, followed by a regular bevy of women
and filles de chambre. Far in advance of all, however, was my lord
with a drawn sword in his hand, shouting, 'Where is the wretch who
has dishonoured my son, where is he? He shall die forthwith.' I
know not how it was, mon maitre, but I just then chanced to spill a
large bowl of garbanzos, which were intended for the puchera of the
following day.
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