poor Vatel, in a pool of his own blood, pierced through the heart. In
his ecstasy of despair at the non-arrival of the fish, he had fastened
his sword in the door, and thrown himself upon its deadly point. Thrice
he had done so, twice wounding himself slightly, the third time piercing
himself through the heart. Poor fellow! he was dead, and the fish had
arrived. It was a useless sacrifice of his life to his art.

The tidings of the tragedy filled the chateau with alarm and dismay. The
prince was in despair, the more so as the king blamed him for the fatal
occurrence. He had long avoided Chantilly, he said, knowing that his
coming would occasion inconvenience, since his host would insist on
providing for the whole of his suite. There should have been but two
tables, and there were more than twenty-five; the strain on poor Vatel
was the cause of his death and the loss of one of the ornaments of the
reign. He would never allow such extravagance again. Men like Vatel were
not to be so lightly sacrificed.

While the king thus petulantly scolded his great subject in the
time-honored "I told you so" fashion, the whole chateau buzzed with
opinions about the tragic event. "Vatel has played the hero," said some;
"He has played the idiot," said others. Some praised his courage and
devotion to his art; others blamed his haste and folly. But praise
prevailed over blame, for, as all conceded, "he had died for the honor
of his profession," and no soldier or martyr could do more.

But Vatel was gone, and dinner was not served. The dead was dead, but
appetite remained. What was to be done? Gourville sprang into the breach
and undertook to replace Vatel. The fish were cooked, the company dined,
then they promenaded, then they played piquet, losing and winning
largely, then they supped, then they enjoyed a moonlight chase of the
deer in the park of Chantilly. Mirth and gayety prevailed, and before
bedtime came poor Vatel was forgotten. The cook who had died for his art
was as far from their thoughts as the martyrs of centuries before.

Early the next day the king and his train departed, leaving Conde to
count the cost of the entertainment, which had been so great as to make
him agree with Louis, that hereafter two tables would be better than
twenty-five. Doubtless among his chief losses he counted Vatel. Money
could be found again, waste repaired, but a genius of the kitchen the
equal of Vatel was not to be had to order. Men like him