not
through how many apartments the young couple passed; but at last they
came to one where a feast was prepared: and on an antique table, covered
with massive silver, covers were laid for two. The lady took her place
at one end of the table, and with her sweetest nod beckoned Wolfgang to
the other seat. He took it. The table was small, and their knees met. He
felt as cold in his legs as if he were kneeling against an ice-well.

"Gallant archer," said she, "you must be hungry after your day's march.
What supper will you have? Shall it be a delicate lobster-salad? or
a dish of elegant tripe and onions? or a slice of boar's-head and
truffles? or a Welsh rabbit a la cave au cidre? or a beefsteak and
shallot? or a couple of rognons a la brochette? Speak, brave bowyer: you
have but to order."

As there was nothing on the table but a covered silver dish, Wolfgang
thought that the lady who proposed such a multiplicity of delicacies to
him was only laughing at him; so he determined to try her with something
extremely rare.

"Fair princess," he said, "I should like very much a pork-chop and some
mashed potatoes."

She lifted the cover: there was such a pork-chop as Simpson never
served, with a dish of mashed potatoes that would have formed at least
six portions in our degenerate days in Rupert Street.

When he had helped himself to these delicacies, the lady put the cover
on the dish again, and watched him eating with interest. He was for some
time too much occupied with his own food to remark that his companion
did not eat a morsel; but big as it was, his chop was soon gone; the
shining silver of his plate was scraped quite clean with his knife,
and, heaving a great sigh, he confessed a humble desire for something to
drink.

"Call for what you like, sweet sir," said the lady, lifting up a silver
filigree bottle, with an india-rubber cork, ornamented with gold.

"Then," said Master Wolfgang--for the fellow's tastes were, in sooth,
very humble--"I call for half-and-half." According to his wish, a pint
of that delicious beverage was poured from the bottle, foaming, into his
beaker.

Having emptied this at a draught, and declared that on his conscience
it was the best tap he ever knew in his life, the young man felt his
appetite renewed; and it is impossible to say how many different dishes
he called for. Only enchantment, he was afterwards heard to declare
(though none of his friends believed him), could have given him t