This was the menu that M. Rouget, the second _maître d'hôtel_, laid down by my plate as we took our seats:--
Hors-d'œuvre variés. Crème Princesse. Sole d'Aumale. Poulet de grain à la Carifnon. Délice de jambon frappé au champagne. Bécassine flambée Empire. Salade d'endive. Asperges Anglaises à la d'Yvette. Bombe Claridge. Petits fours.
While I was reading this through with appreciation the Princess was looking round the room and at the people dining. The wide spaces left between the tables met with her thorough approval, for the fact that one's neighbours hear every word that one says at many of the London restaurants is not an incentive to conversation. A lady in white at the next table to ours also met with approval, and the Princess, serenely secure in the consciousness of being perfectly dressed, could afford to praise another woman's gown. Four men dining together at the tables drew from the Princess what sounded to me like a long extract from "Debrett," and I added an item of information as to the owner of a handsome face that was to be seen at one time on the stage, and which marriage withdrew from the gaze of the public.
While we trifled with the _hors-d'œuvre_ the manager came to our table, and in the course of conversation told us that the Portuguese Ambassador had entertained H.R.H. the Prince of Wales in one of the private dining-rooms the evening before. I felt inclined to say that I, too, entertained the great ones of the earth at Claridge's, but I reflected that humility was becoming in me, even though a Princess had been kind enough to dine with me.
The thick soup was good; but in no way remarkable. I do not care for thick soups, and the Princess only took a few spoonfuls from her plate. The sole, with its oysters and truffles, was very well cooked, and so was the chicken, with its savoury stuffing of macaroni and truffles. The _délice de jambon_ was a triumph, light and dainty, with a delicate blending of flavours, a dish which marked the man who made it as an artist in his calling. The _bécassine_ was a toothsome mouthful, the asparagus was good, and the _bombe Claridge_ was as admirable in its way as the _délice_ had been. An excellent dinner, as a whole, with two dishes that were supreme works of culinary art. We drank the wine of the good widow Clicquot.