THE COOKERV OF THE PHEASANT 243 



we are always inclined to believe him reliable. Here 

 he relates how an inhuman practical joke was played 

 on a certain Chevalier de Langeau. The worthy old 

 gentleman had beggared himself at the Court, and 

 came on a scanty pittance to exploiter his title and 

 ribbon at industrial Lyons, where he was made wel- 

 come at the most sumptuous tables. He supped one 

 night with a rich banker, and on the strength of a long 

 invitation, he expected great things. The supper was 

 good, but far from recherche. As it went on he re- 

 signed himself, like a man of sense, and, making up 

 for lost time, he ate to repletion. Indeed, a magni- 

 ficent truffled turkey had given him no great reason to 

 complain. Just when he was luxuriously disposing 

 himself for digestion, the scene changed to his sorrow ; 

 but we must let Savarin give the touching denouement 

 in his own eloquent words. The Chevalier had pulled 

 himself together, and struggled like a man to trifle with 

 a succession of tantalising dainties. Heroic humanity 

 could do no more, and ' what were his feelings at the 

 third remove, when he saw snipes arriving by the dozen, 

 white with fat and slumbering on the regular rotier ; a 

 pheasant, a bird which was then extremely rare, and 

 which had been brought from the banks of the Seine ; 

 a fresh tunny, and all that the cookery of the time 

 and the oven could present as being most delicate in 



