rs. Know, Monsieur, that these are stroemlings, the finest
and most delicate fish in the icy waters of the north. This other fish,
which glows like a piece of gold in its porcelain plate, you would find
it difficult to call by the correct name. It is a salmon, caught by a
skillful hand, and smoked with particular care. Near you is the tongue of
a reindeer, prepared by a Laplander, unrivaled in this useful art. This
bird, which yet looks fixedly at you with open eyes, though it died two
days ago, you might fancy a barn-door fowl, fattened up by the cook. Not
so: it is the briar-cock, the honor of our forests. The two fowls in that
dish are not a pair of vulgar pullets, but succulent grouse. I will not
mention that haunch of sanglier, which, however, is worthy of a royal
table; nor of those vegetables, which strangers say are nowhere as finely
flavored as they are in our loved Sweden; nor of those berries, gathered
last fall on the sides of our hills. Pay some attention, however, to that
bread which you break so carelesely with your fingers. It is not coarse
and heavy, like that of other countries. It is our _kneach-brad_,
delicate and light as a sheet of paper, and white as the purest flour."

"Have you done?" said M. de Vermondans; "and can you not, as an
accompaniment to so many exquisite things, bring us a bottle of claret?"

"Wrong again." said Alete; "as if this beer, prepared from the best
barley, the most perfumed hops, yellow as the Baltic, amber and pure as
spring-water, was not more valuable than the coarse red fluid you send to
such a distance for."

"I agree with you," said Ireneus, who in his turn wished to laugh at the
young girl. "It seems to me, that when seated in front of the riches of
the north, it would be a profanation to pour out a libation in a foreign
beverage. This beer has besides so excellent a flavor, that were there
anything like it in France, it is probable that the owners of the Clos de
Vaugeot and Medoc would root out their vines to make room for hops and
barley."

"You are laughing at me, dear cousin," said Alete; "take care, however."

"Peste!" said M. de Vermondans, "any one who knows you would be rash
indeed to excite your ceaseless babble. I do not think that Ireneus, who
has more than once proved his courage, is bold enough for that."

"Two royal officers contending against a poor country-girl," said Alete.
"We are not fairly matched, and I will go for the claret."

It was wron