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320 THE ADVENTURES OF PHILIP
month, with lots of bread and butter. Twenty francs a month for
washing, and fifty for dinner and pocket-money—that's about the
figure. The dinner, I own, is shy, unless I come and dine with my
friends ; and then I make up for banyan days." And so saying
Philip would call out for more truffled partridges, or affably filled
his goblet with my Lord Ringwood's best Sillery. "At those
shops," he would observe, " where I dine, I have beer : I can't
stand the wine. And you see, I can't go to the cheap English
ordinaries, of which there are many, because English gentlemen's
servants are there, you know, and it's not pleasant to sit with a
fellow who waits on you the day after."
" Oh ! the English servants go to the cheap ordinaries, do
they?" asks my Lord, greatly amused, "and you drink bière de
Mars at the shop where you dine ?"
" And dine very badly, too, I can tell you. Always come away
hungry. Give me some champagne—the dry, if you please. They
mix very well together—sweet and dry. Did you ever dine at
Flicoteau's, Mr. Pecker?"
"I dine at one of your horrible two-franc houses ?" cries Mr.
Pecker, with a look of terror. "Do you know, my Lord, there
are actually houses where people dine for two francs ?"
" Two francs ! Seventeen sous !" bawls out Mr. Firmin.
"The soup, the beef, the r6ti, the salad, the dessert, and the
whitey-brown bread at discretion. It's not a good dinner, certainly
—in fact, it is a dreadful bad one. But to dine so would do some
fellows a great deal of good."
"What do you say, Pecker? Flicoteau's; seventeen sous.
We'll make a little party and try, and Firmin shall do the honours
of his restaurant," says my Lord, with a grin.
" Mercy !" gasps Mr. Pecker.
"I had rather dine here, if you please, my Lord," says the
young man. " This is cheaper and certainly better."
My Lord's doctor, and many of the guests at his table, my
lord's henchmen, flatterers, and led captains, looked aghast at the
freedom of the young fellow in the shabby coat. If they dared to
be familiar with their host, there came a scowl over that noble
countenance which was awful to face. They drank his corked wine
in meekness of spirit. They laughed at his jokes trembling. One
after another, they were the objects of his satire ; and each grinned
piteously, as he took his turn of punishment. Some dinners are
dear, though they cost nothing. At some great tables are not toads
served along with the entrées ? Yes, and many amateurs are exceedingly
fond of the dish.
How do Parisians live at all ? is a question which has often set