We gulped down
white wine to the "Blacksmith's Galop," and if the tune had lasted
much longer we should both have been blind drunk. With the advent
of our steaks, the band struck up a selection from Wagner.
I know of no modern European composer so difficult to eat beefsteak
to as Wagner. That we did not choke ourselves is a miracle.
Wagner's orchestration is most trying to follow. We had to give up
all idea of mustard. B. tried to eat a bit of bread with his steak,
and got most hopelessly out of tune. I am afraid I was a little
flat myself during the "Valkyries' Ride." My steak was rather
underdone, and I could not work it quickly enough.
After getting outside hard beefsteak to Wagner, putting away potato
salad to the garden music out of Faust was comparatively simple.
Once or twice a slice of potato stuck in our throat during a very
high note, but, on the whole, our rendering was fairly artistic.
We rattled off a sweet omelette to a symphony in G - or F, or else K;
I won't be positive as to the precise letter; but it was something
in the alphabet, I know - and bolted our cheese to the ballet music
from Carmen.
