e will give them, I hope, the sublimest nourishment which the soil
of Holland produces," said Balby, laughing. "You are not aware,
M. Frederick Zoller, that we are now in a hotel whose hostess is
worshipped, almost glorified, by the good Hollanders."

"And is it this sublime piece of flesh which you propose to place before
me?" said the king, with assumed horror. "Will you satisfy the soul of
my soul with this Holland beauty? I do not share the enthusiasm of the
Hollanders. I shall not worship this woman. I shall find her coarse,
old, and ugly."

"But listen, Zoller. These good Dutchmen worship her not be cause of
her perishable beauty, but because of a famous pie which she alone in
Amsterdam knows how to make."

"Ah, that is better. I begin now to appreciate the Dutchmen, and if
the pie is good, I will worship at the same shrine. Did you not remark,
brother Henry, that while you stood carried away by your enthusiasm
before Rembrandt's picture of the 'Night Watch'--a picture which it
grieves me to say I cannot obtain," sighed the king--"these proud
Hollanders call it one of their national treasures, and will not sell
it--well, did you not see that I was conversing zealously with three or
four of those thick, rubicund, comfortable looking mynheers? No doubt
you thought we were rapturously discussing the glorious paintings before
which we stood, and for this the good Hollanders were rolling their eyes
in ecstasy. No, sir; no, sir. We spoke of a pie! They recognized me as
a stranger, asked me from whence I came, where we lodged, etc., etc. And
when I mentioned the Black Raven, they went off into ecstatic raptures
over the venison pasty of Madame von Blaken. They then went on to relate
that Madame Blaken was renowned throughout all Holland because of this
venison pasty of which she alone had the recipe, and which she prepared
always alone and with closed doors. Her portrait is to be seen in all
the shop windows, and all the stadtholders dine once a month in the
Black Raven to enjoy this pie. Neither through prayers nor entreaties,
commands, or threatenings, has Madame Blaken been induced to give up her
recipe or even to go to the castle and prepare the pasty. She declares
that this is the richest possession of the Black Raven, and all who
would be so happy as to enjoy it must partake of it at her table. Balby!
Balby! hasten my good fellow, and command the venison pastry," said
Frederick, eagerly. "Ah! what bliss to lodge