Reading and ing e to me easy. I learn my letters as folloarde); B for boeuf, baron of, roasted mostly, riotically sputtering a in ts, carrottes, d so o Zabaglione, alten    be, si figures in no cooks alp.

        And I stick as close to t kitce to a paté or to an oeuf. First, I stand on t stool to my saus; turned bucket; t. time passes.

        Life in te mansion floranquil stream, only vulsing into turbulence a year and t t fuss enoug, o set us by the ears.

        Alt to be tences of eaceric of our beings,    of to life like Sleepiy rut on so    t terruption of our routine. e s out tniglefolk forced by reduced circumstao take paying guests into te cuisine, fet it; sandwic is sandwiches.

        And never again, ever again, a special request for a soufflé, lobster or otouc, moody, distracted, and, even ter soufflé all ter, boil it alive, beat tc. etc. etc., as if tual t    of t t question mark from    ime. Or, per sruct t, most savoury soufflé t ever lobster graced; but nobody arrived to eat it and none of tc. So, fifteen times in all, t t soufflé.

        Until, one fiober day, t rising over team off a é, taking last y meals like ned men, my mot last rey arrives and as it does algic he lys de France.

        o    dory slab    my maker,    t broods about her.

        But rots into tco pick up t of ice ttles     a beardless boy of ries to quizz s of some otical valet rol of t uand ime in all .

        First, s for s, s for joy, to see he dough. And now she weeps for absence.

        But still ser, for s and ual, if only as a aking matters into my oer, above stairs to make a personal inquiry of to    be.

        t quilted smoking jacket mucs t on very o ive language. And I never sater man; one or t felt t;o" in "rotund". If aken aback by tion of t of too muc to s by a jump or start, asks,    poi de fran?aise, I stammer out:

        "t de c of your last visit --"

        "A; ;Le pauvre," he adds.

        s lugubriously down his museau.

        "Une crise de foie.    mort."

        I blaleman, offers me a restorative snifter of    as it    trust Sirs ied tastes, and I    feel it put    as it goes eructating dotle, in ic affability ocrats, I give    of ake to be tany ception,    valet er soufflé.

        "I    soufflé," says t;Best I ever eat. Sent my pliments to truly exigeant gourmet to go easy on t time."

        So t rut! teful he message!

        I te toucory,    after, my mots up a lobster soufflé in (I believe) remembrance of Jean-Jacques, and le of bubbly in memory of ted until ting all tion of a tender sensibility, says tear:

        "tell you e to my ex-valet, slip do;

        "O; I stammer. "You are too good!"

        Forto tco find my mot beginning tly, as tter melts like t of ted ceals open and in tippytoes ter matc say. tctalion all turn t of respect for tient, but I myself, tect of it, ot forbear to peep.

        o o signify caution and silence, aends e delicad tact, s ure at    miging on . An expression as of a baby in a sie sraverses    Bourbonesque features. tempting to peer over o see terie de cuisi    gets in the way.

        Per is to s , or else a geribute to    noic grace, he gooses her.

        My motc a sigo bloen egg-, great artist t srembles, not once, as sray    a mite of agitation stirs the spoon.

        For it is, you uand, time for seasoning. And in goes just suffit ime. Not a grain more. e a kiss.

        tes topple into ts of    as t in a trap. Surns all into the soufflé dish.

        weaks.

        And t;to !" Departing from t, my mot, smack! doo to th a low moan.

        "take t," sly ss the oven.

        "; I cry.

        "ould you    it touc time?"

        t temples    long last o.

        "Quelle femme," he murmurs.

        My motop hand, pays him no heed.

        "S; I explain, overe .

        " dedication!"

        truck. ares at my mot enoug ly as a man c .

        "I beg you, I implore you --"

        But my mothe oven.

        "; table queen of all t spreads its arcire kitc leaps upy alone fi. All present (some forty-seven in number -- t of me, plus the duc) applaud and cheer.

        to tc ss ion t noa and gateau Saint- infrequent babas au r -- I am tcer into my inance; besides,    t (Yorkshe land?

        For am I not tepson?
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