friends.

"They are, indeed, innumerable," said Delille; "and the most annoying
fact of all is, that not all the wit and good sense in the world can
help one to divine them untaught. A little while ago, for instance,
the Abbé Cosson, who is Professor of Literature at the Collège
Mazarin, was describing to me a grand dinner to which he had been
invited at Versailles, and to which he had sat down in the company of
peers, princes, and marshals of France.

"'I'll wager now,' said I, 'that you committed a hundred blunders in
the etiquette of the table!'

"'How so?' replied the Abbé, somewhat nettled. 'What blunders could I
make? It seems to me that I did precisely as others did.'

"'And I, on the contrary, would stake my life that you did nothing as
others did. But let us begin at the beginning, and see which is right.
In the first place there was your table napkin--what did you do with
that when you sat down at table?'

"'What did I do with my table-napkin? Why, I did like the rest of the
guests: I shook it out of the folds, spread it before me, and fastened
one corner to my button-hole.'

"'Very well, _mon cher_; you were the only person who did so. No one
shakes, spreads, and fastens a table-napkin in that manner. You should
have only laid it across your knees. What soup had you?'

"'Turtle.'