'
'And he did quite right, my child,' said Prevost, 'for there is not a
man in Europe that is your equal. What do they say? That Abreu rivals
you in flavour, and that Gaillard has not less invention. But who can
combine _gout_ with new combinations? 'Tis yourself, Leander; and there
is no question, though you have only twenty-five years, that you are the
chef of the age.'
'You are always very good to me, sir,' said Leander, bending his head
with great respect; 'and I will not deny that to be famous when you are
young is the fortune of the gods. But we must never forget that I had an
advantage which Abreu and Gaillard had not, and that I was your pupil.'
'I hope that I have not injured you,' said Papa Prevost, with an air of
proud self-content. 'What you learned from me came at least from a good
school. It is something to have served under Napoleon,' added Prevost,
with the grand air of the Imperial kitchen. 'Had it not been for
Waterloo, I should have had the cross. But the Bourbons and the cooks
of the Empire never could understand each other: They brought over an
emigrant chef, who did not comprehend the taste of the age. He wished to
bring everything back to the time of the _oeil de bouf_. When Monsieur
passed my soup of Austerlitz untasted, I knew the old family was doomed.
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