And it was Lisette's turn to say the Benedic Domine before the meal, which she said, as every good French girl can and does in Latin three times a day. Therese the housekeeper always thought Lisette's pronunciation particularly fine for a mere housemaid and always wondered if Lisette concealed some illegitimate nobility in her background and blood.
Frederic, Rachel's tutor, always had an unkind word for this ritual, as he would, that mad socialist who never missed an opportunity to remind everyone he was part of the Commune in '71 who overthrew Napoleon III, but Therese could not help herself and as she sometimes did marveled out loud at how little trouble Frederic had responding 'Amen' as a communist who hates 'us.'
Frederic simply shrugged; as a socialist it cost him nothing to worship idols.
Frederic had an answer for everything, and Therese could, as usual, not help responding in a tone that was 1% shouting "how can you believe we're idolators?"
"Look at all those statues you bow down to in your Cathedrals."
"They're not gods."
"Certainly they're gods."
"Saints, gods, it's all the same!"
"How can you possibly believe that?"
"At least the Trinity is real gods, but the Saints are pagan statuary! You pray to Joseph to replace your ceiling like he's Vesta then you pray to Matthew to pay for it like he's Juno. And I'll tell you something else, back in '71..."
And Lisette as always came to the rescue:
"We know, you were there when they shot the Archbishop, unless you pulled the trigger this time we don't want to hear about it."
But ever since graduating Le Cordon Bleu, Louis never missed a chance to work his new political views into conversation. One would think as one of the most celebrated chefs in Paris, he'd be more concerned with his art than ever, but as usual with celebrity chefs, the standard was a shell of what it was when he had something to prove, and his diners would marvel at it all the same, knowing no difference. Rather than food, Louis inevitably concentrated on the outrage of the week from La Libre Parole. Sometimes he even got his views from l'Antijuif but he knew better than to tell anyone in Maison Bloch.
"I can have at least have a little appreciation for socialism, you care about the poor, even if your poor is everyone but Frenchmen."
Frederic seemed almost eager to take the bait tonight: "It's Frenchmen too!"
"Frenchmen can't get what they need if they have to share it with the whole world!"
"Why shouldn't we care about the world?"
"Because you're a Frenchman!"
"I'm a Frenchman? How many times has our antisemtiic cook told us Jews can never be Frenchmen."
"How are you a Jew Frederic? You're a socialist!"
"I have Jewish blood!"
"I thought you told me that only your grandfather was a Jew."
"Doesn't that mean that my Frenchness is impure?"
"Relax Frederic, there's not an antisemite in the world who'd consider you a Jew because you have a Jewish grandparent."
"You shout all the time how Jewish blood pollutes the purity of France!"
"Frederic, nobody has pure French blood."
"They don't?"
"Frederic, you're an Alsatian, I'm an Alsatian. Even if you're part Jewish, you're part German too, and German blood is better than French."
Louis must have been in a better humor than recently because he was usually not ready to concede nearly as much, and it was particularly on Friday nights that he was at his most belligerent. It was only last Sabbath dinner that Louis was going on about how since Frederic's family name - Waldteufel, means 'forest devil' in German, Frederic is descended on his Jewish side from devils. When Frederic agreeably pointed out that it was the Germans who forced Jews to take insulting surnames, Louis replied that surely the Germans forced Jews to take such names after Jews did something devilish. Louis was feeling more belligerent than ever, but he was grooming another target.
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