comradegrantaire:“Oh, Madame Vidal has little to worry about,” Grantaire said. “You would scarcely b
comradegrantaire:“Oh, Madame Vidal has little to worry about,” Grantaire said. “You would scarcely believe the prices, if one wants good food in Paris! No, I must make do, dear Mother, with meals far less excellent than her cornucopia. The cornucopia, also called the horn of plenty, is truly the right image. You have seen it, yes, Mother? In the white arms of Abundantia or Fortuna. Yes, you have seen it, overflowing with fruit and nuts. Well, this is the correct image, in comparing the food cooked in this home to what I eat in Paris! In Paris, a meal half as good as any meal prepared by Madame Vidal would be a blessing. You may say, dear Mother, that for all that I say this, I do not look to have hungered any. This is indeed true. Paris has fed me. But she has not fed me as a mother feeds a child, with affection and care, she has fed me as one feeds livestock. You see, Paris needs students, it needs newly minted Parisians on its streets, and so it feeds them, as Father’s tenants feed their sheep. That is the difference between the meal in the h0me and the meal at the Parisian café.”Once Grantaire finished his tirade, spoken too quickly and with too few pauses for any interruption to be possible, he drank half the contents of his newly refilled wine glass.“Are you quite done?” his father demanded. “By God, but you can talk! What meaningless rambling! Was that what they taught you at the academy?”Grantaire laughed mockingly, then abruptly stopped. He must be getting tipsy.Chapter 18 of On the Path to Elysium is up! -- source link
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