I noticed that suddenly, all around me, as in the tale of the Petrified Palace, all service had ceased. The next dish should have been the famous fish from Dalmatia, His Highness’s fish, the inspiration for the party! Jacinto was nervously crushing a flower between his fingers. And every one of the servants had vanished!

Fortunately, the Grand Duke was busy regaling the table with a story about a hunting party on a game reserve in Sarvan, during which a lady, the wife of a banker, had suddenly leapt from her horse when they reached a clearing. He and all the other hunters had stopped, and the gallant lady, ashen-faced, had caught up her riding habit and disappeared behind a rock … However, we never found out what the banker’s wife was doing in that clearing, crouched behind a rock, because, just then, the majordomo appeared, his face glistening with sweat, and whispered something to Jacinto, who bit his lip in horror. The Grand Duke fell silent. Everyone looked at each other in bright expectation. Then my Prince, patiently, heroically, forcing a pale smile, said:

‘My friends, something most unfortunate has occurred …’

Dornan leapt up from his chair:

‘Is there a fire?’

No, there was no fire. The dumb waiter had unexpectedly gone wrong and got stuck halfway, with His Highness’ fish inside!

The Grand Duke flung down his napkin. His politeness cracked like badly applied enamel.

‘This is too much! I had the devil’s own job getting hold of that fish! That, after all, is why we’ve come here for supper. How ridiculous! Why didn’t they just bring it up by hand? Stuck halfway? Honestly! Let me see. Where’s the pantry?’

And he stumped angrily off towards the pantry, led by the stumbling majordomo, cowed by the Grand Duke’s terrifying rage. Jacinto followed, like a shadow, carried along in His Highness’ wake. Unable to restrain my curiosity, I went with them down to the pantry to witness the disaster, while Dornan kept slapping his thigh and demanding that we finish our supper without the fish.

The Grand Duke was already there, peering into the black well of the lift and holding a candle that made his flushed face seem still redder. I looked over his royal shoulder. Down below, in the darkness, on a large platter, surrounded by slices of lemon, lay the precious fish, white and gleaming, the steam still rising from it. Jacinto, looking as white as his own tie, was desperately fiddling with the lift’s complicated springs. Then it was the Grand Duke’s turn, and with his hairy hands, he gave the cables a tremendous shaking. In vain. The machine was stuck fast, as inert as eternal bronze.

There was a rustle of silk at the pantry door. It was Madame d’Oriol and behind her Madame Verghane, eyes flashing, curious to know what was happening to this fish about which the Grand Duke clearly cared so passionately. Our friend Marizac appeared too, smiling and proposing that a ladder be lowered into the shaft. Then the psychologist joined us and duly psychologised, attributing wise motives to that stubborn fish. And in response to each of them, the scarlet-faced Grand Duke pointed, with one tragic finger, at his fish lying in the bottom of that black hole! They all peered over and muttered: ‘Yes, there it is!’ Todelle, in his haste, almost tumbled in. Coligny’s parakeet descendant flapped his wings, squawking: ‘Doesn’t it smell delicious!’ In the crowded pantry, the ladies’ décolletages rubbed up against the lackeys’ uniforms. The heavily powdered older man accidentally put his foot in a bucket of ice and uttered a feral yelp! And above them all, the historian of the Dukes d’Anjou moved his sad, pointed nose back and forth.

Suddenly, Todelle had an idea:

‘It’s perfectly simple! We must fish for the fish!’

The Grand Duke gave his thigh a triumphal slap. Of course! They must fish for the fish! And he so enjoyed this comical suggestion, so unusual and so novel, that his anger vanished, and he became once more the amiable nobleman, magnificently polite, asking the ladies to take a seat in order to watch this miraculous bit of fishing! He himself would be the fisherman! All that was required for this diverting exploit was a walking-stick, a piece of thread and a hook.