The rising artist was apparently satisfied with his scrutiny; and, as I dallied with a sardine and he with some other _hors-d'œuvre_, he opened the proceedings by asking me what I intended to do with my half of the fortune we were going to make. Being a practical and prudent man, I said that that depended upon the number of tens of thousands a year that we should realise, but that I had already decided on buying a large steam yacht and hiring a moor in Scotland and having a few horses in training.
The soup then made its appearance, and did not meet with our approval, for the chef had remedied a lack of strength by a liberal sprinkling from the sauce-bottle. It was not in keeping with the excellently-cooked dishes that followed.
The rising artist was going to spend his thousands in a different manner. He thought of building such a house and studio as London had never seen before. His collection of modern pictures was going to be small but very good, while a few _chefs-d'œuvre_ of the old masters--Velasquez, Van Dyck, and Rembrandt for choice--would satisfy him. He did not care about racing or shooting, but his carriage horses would be the best obtainable, and he thought of building a tennis-court when he bought a little house in the country.
The whitebait was excellently cooked, and led us into conversation as to the cooks we should presently require. A Frenchman who had at some time served under the great Cubat and understood Russian dishes was my idea of what would be my requirements, while the rising artist simply thought of going to Maître Escoffier and asking him for the best cook he had under him at the time.
The rising artist said that the _poulet au riz_ was well cooked, and my _tête de veau_ was succulent and beautifully hot. I began to think that it was about time that my young friend propounded his idea; but he lingered lovingly over the details of his studio and tennis-court, and seemed more inclined to tell me how to spend the money than how to make it.
The _filet de bœuf_ was cooked exactly to a Frenchman's taste, a trifle too much for an Englishman's; the tomatoes and spinach were all that could be wished.
"Now," I said, "let's hear all about your wonderful idea."