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This Majestic LieIV
I met Johnnie in Havana in October, 1898. If I remember rightly the U. S. S. Resolute and the U. S. S. Scorpion were in the harbour, but beyond these two terrible engines of destruction there were not as yet any of the more stern signs of the American success. Many Americans were to be seen in the streets of Havana where they were not in any way molested. Among them was Johnnie in white duck and a straw hat, cool, complacent and with eyes rather more steady than ever. I addressed him upon the subject of his supreme failure, but I could not perturb his philosophy. In reply he simply asked me to dinner. "Come to the Café Aguacate at 7:30 to-night," he said. "I haven`t been there in a long time. We shall see if they cook as well as ever." I turned up promptly and found Johnnie in a private room smoking a cigar in the presence of a waiter who was blue in the gills. "I`ve ordered the dinner," he said cheerfully. "Now I want to see if you won`t be surprised how well they can do here in Havana." I was surprised. I was dumfounded. Rarely in the history of the world have two rational men sat down to such a dinner. It must have taxed the ability and endurance of the entire working force of the establishment to provide it. The variety of dishes was of course related to the markets of Havana, but the abundance and general profligacy was related only to Johnnie`s imagination. Neither of us had an appetite. Our fancies fled in confusion before this puzzling luxury. I looked at Johnnie as if he were a native of Thibet. I had thought him to be a most simple man, and here I found him revelling in food like a fat, old senator of Rome`s decadence. And if the dinner itself put me to open-eyed amazement, the names of the wines finished everything. Apparently Johnny had had but one standard, and that was the cost. If a wine had been very expensive, he had ordered it. I began to think him probably a maniac. At any rate, I was sure that we were both fools. Seeing my fixed stare, he spoke with affected languor: "I wish peacocks` brains and melted pearls were to be had here in Havana. We`d have `em." Then he grinned. As a mere skirmisher I said, "In New York, we think we dine well; but really this, you know -- well -- Havana ----"
Johnnie waved his hand pompously. "Oh, I know."
Directly after coffee, Johnnie excused himself for a moment and left the room. When he returned he said briskly, "Well, are you ready to go?" As soon as we were in a cab and safely out of hearing of the Café Aguacate, Johnnie lay back and laughed long and joyously.
But I was very serious. "Look here, Johnnie," I said to him solemnly, "when you invite me to dine with you, don`t you ever do that again. And I`ll tell you one thing -- when you dine with me you will probably get the ordinary table d`hôte." I was an older man.
"Oh, that`s all right," he cried. And then he too grew serious. "Well, as far as I am concerned -- as far as I am concerned," he said, "the war is now over."
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