“Eh, but! that is Vatel! my maitre d’hotel!” said Fouquet to Gourville.
“Yes, monseigneur,” replied the latter.
“What can he have been doing at the sign of L’Image-de-Notre-Dame?”
“Buying wine, no doubt.”
“What! buy wine for me, at a cabaret?” said Fouquet. “My cellar, then, must be in a miserable condition!” and he advanced towards the maitre d’hotel, who was arranging his bottles in the carriage with the most minute care.
“Hola! Vatel,” said he, in the voice of a master.
“Take care, monseigneur!” said Gourville, “you will be recognized.”