Come, we'll go
and drink a bottle of his best Madeira; I will draw him out, and get all
the information he can give us about this fair inmate of his house."
A few minutes later the two young gentlemen entered the Armes de France,
and asked for Maitre Bilot. The worthy landlord came forward at once,
and himself conducted them into a cosy, well-lighted room on the ground
floor, where a bright fire was burning cheerily; he took the old, dusty
bottle, with cobwebs clinging about it, from the waiter's hands, drew
the cork very carefully, and then poured the amber wine, as clear as a
topaz, into the delicate Venetian glasses held out for it by the duke
and his companion, with a hand as steady as if it bad been of bronze.
In taking upon himself this office Maitre Bilot affected an almost
religious solemnity, as though he were a priest of Bacchus, officiating
at his altar, and about to celebrate the mysterious rites of the ancient
worshippers of that merry god; nothing was wanting but the crown of
vine leaves. He seemed to think that this ceremoniousness was a sort
of testimony to the superior quality of the wine from his well-stocked
cellar, which needed no recommendation, for it was really very good,
worthy of even a royal table, and of wide-spread fame.
Pages:
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258