Ragueneau's cook and pastry-shop. A large kitchen at the corner of the Rue St.
Honore and the Rue de l'Arbre Sec, which are seen in the background through
the glass door, in the gray dawn.
On the left, in the foreground, a counter, surmounted by a stand in forged iron, on
which are hung geese, ducks, and water peacocks. In great china vases are tall
bouquets of simple flowers, principally yellow sunflowers.
On the same side, farther back, an immense open fireplace, in front of which,
between monster firedogs, on each of which hangs a little saucepan; the roasts
are dripping into the pans.
On the right, foreground with door.
Farther back, staircase leading to a little room under the roof, the entrance of
which is visible through the open shutter. In this room a table is laid. A small
Flemish luster is alight. It is a place for eating and drinking. A wooden gallery,
continuing the staircase, apparently leads to other similar little rooms.
In the middle of the shop an iron hoop is suspended from the ceiling by a string
with which it can be drawn up and down, and big game is hung around it.
The ovens in the darkness under the stairs give forth a red glow. The copper
pans shine. The spits are turning. Heaps of food formed into pyramids. Hams
suspended. It is the busy hour of the morning. Bustle and hurry of scullions, fat
cooks, and diminutive apprentices, their caps profusely decorated with cock's
feathers and wings of guinea-fowl.
On metal and wicker plates they are bringing in piles of cakes and tarts.
Tables laden with rolls and dishes of food. Other tables surrounded with chairs
are ready for the consumers.
A small table in a corner covered with papers, at which Ragueneau is seated
writing on the rising of the curtain.
Ragueneau, pastry-cooks, then Lise. Ragueneau is writing, with an inspired air,
at a small table, and counting on his fingers.
