“You take the affair with your usual practical indifference,” said the duke with bitterness, “and I can only regret being compelled to look at it in a different light.  The question here is not of a difficulty between our servants, but of an insult which Spain has received from France in the face of all Rome.  Yes, all Rome has witnessed this insult, and these miserable Romans have even dared to dishonor us with irony and satire, and to mock and deride Spain, while they overload you with their praises!”

“The good Romans, as you know, are like children.  This contest of our cooks has delighted them, and they shouted a viva to the conqueror.  But I beg you not to forget that I have nothing to do with the victories of my cook.”

“But I have something to do with the defeats of mine!  Whoever insults my servants insults me; and whoever insults me, insults the kingdom I represent—­insults Spain!  It is therefore in the name of Spain that I demand satisfaction.  Spain has a right to this fish!  I demand my right, I demand the surrender of the fish!”

“If you take this matter in earnest,” said the cardinal, “then am I sorry to be compelled also to be serious!  If Spain can find offence in the fact that France has bought a fish which is too dear for the Spanish cook, I cannot see how I can here make satisfaction, as we cannot be taxed with any fault.”

“You refuse me the fish, then?” exclaimed the duke, bursting with rage.

“As you say that all Rome knows of this affair, and takes an interest in it, I cannot act otherwise.  It must not have the appearance that France feels herself less great and powerful than Spain; that France pusillanimously yields when Spain makes an unjust demand!”

“That is to say, you wish to break off all friendly relations with us?”

“And can those relations be seriously endangered by this affair?” asked the cardinal with vivacity.  “Is it possible that this trifling misunderstanding between two servants can exercise an influence upon a long-cherished friendship and harmony of two powers whose relations, whether friendly or otherwise, may uphold or destroy the peace of Europe?”

“Honor is the first law of the Spaniard,” proudly responded the duke “and whoever wounds that can no longer be my friend!  France has attached the honor of Spain, and all Rome has chimed in with the insulting acclamations of France—­all Rome knows the story of this fish!”

“Then let us show these silly Romans that we both look upon the whole affair merely as a jest.  When you to-morrow laughingly eat of this fish, the good Romans will feel ashamed of themselves and their childish conduct.”

“You propose then, to-morrow, when the nobility of Rome, when all the diplomatists are assembled, to parade before them this fish, which to-day sets all tongues in motion?” asked the duke, turning pale.

“The fish was bought for this dinner, and must be eaten!” said the cardinal, laughing.