Read Online The Man with the Lead Stomach by Jean-François Parot - Free Book Online Page A

Cyrus was yelping with pleasure at the sight of a friend he had taken to from their first meeting. After this outpouring of affection he became once more the procurator’s dignified lapdog and, raising his head like a proud steed, preceded Nicolas into the house, only his irrepressible wagging tail still showing his pleasure.
    He headed towards the pantry, regularly checking that Nicolas was following him. The young commissioner deduced from this that Monsieur de Noblecourt was already asleep. Increasingly afflicted with gout, the elderly magistrate enjoyed talking to his protégé, even when Nicolas came back late. He was always eager to hear the police officer’s account of his day’s activities and just as curious to find out the news and the gossip about the town and Court. As he entertained frequently he was one of the best-informed men in Paris; as Nicolas had often been in a position to observe, his advice and opinions enjoyed considerable favour. When he waited up late in his wing chair, Cyrus was the messenger given the task of intercepting Nicolas and leading him to his master.
    One meagre candle lit the pantry dimly. On a low chair, near the stove, a slumped figure heaved peacefully with every breath. Nicolas recognised Catherine, the cook. On seeing her, the pedantic schoolboy in him was awakened and he recalledBoileau’s line: ‘Upon her breast her double chin does droop’. He immediately told himself off for this joke at the expense of someone who had proved unfailingly loyal to him.
    After the fall of the Lardin household, 2 Catherine Gauss had at first been given shelter by Dr Semacgus in Vaugirard. But the surgeon already had his own cook, the African Awa, and even though the two women had become friends he could not keep Catherine on. Nicolas had found the solution. Marion, Monsieur de Noblecourt’s housekeeper was getting on in years and had been delighted for Catherine to take charge of the cooking. Nicolas, now comfortably off thanks to his position as commissioner and the extra emoluments accruing from this post, had himself engaged his old friend and therefore shared in the expenses of running the Noblecourt household. The elderly procurator had protested as a formality but he had been touched by Nicolas’s kind gesture.
    Cyrus tugged the bottom of Catherine’s skirt, making her wake up grumpily. As soon as she noticed Nicolas, she wanted to get up but he prevented her from doing so.
    ‘I nodded off waiting for you, my little one,’ she sighed.
    ‘Catherine, how many times do I have to tell you not to wait up for me!’
    ‘You were at the Opéra. Nothing could happen to you.’
    Nicolas smiled at the thought of how his night had started in Grenelle. But Catherine was already busy, laying the table and producing a delicious-smelling pie.
    ‘You must be hungry. I have cold pâté and a bottle of Irancy that the master had a sip of for his supper. He ate heartily.’
    Nicolas sat down at the table for one of those ample andsucculent late-night meals that Catherine was so good at, thanks to her Alsace upbringing. The golden crust of the pastry was still warm and the bouquet of red wine and bay leaves made his mouth water. She looked at him apprehensively, waiting for his slightest reaction. The tender meat melted in the mouth.
    ‘You’ve kept this dish a secret from me, Catherine. It’s quite delicious! Is it from your region?’
    ‘Not at all. That one’s a pie. The meat is chopped and marinated in white wine. This dish is from Champagne. You cut pork and veal, and most of all you add fat to make it tender. You let it soak in good red wine with spices, salt, pepper, two days, no more. You make the pastry. You wipe your meat. You line the dish then spread the meat on top and you cover with a round of pastry brushed with beaten egg. You keep it in the oven for a good two hours. It’s better warm or cold. It can also be done with rabbit without needing to bone it. Where I come from we would