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"There are some," Kendricks remarked, "who prefer beer. Personally, I like to preserve my local color. Vin ordinaire in Paris, beer in Germany. Madame!" Kendricks had caught madame's eye with the glass at his lips. He rose at once and bowed. Madame acknowledged his graciousness with a huge smile, which spread even to her double chin. Monsieur leaned forward and joined in the ceremony.
A little more violent access of fury, a little more fiery declamation, a few more bottles of vin bleu, and the Gallery of the Louvre, with all its treasures of art, compared with which the crown jewels just sold are but pretty pebbles, the market price of which fairly enough expresses their value, much more, rather, than their true value, that noble gallery, with all its masterpieces from the hands of Greek sculptors and Italian painters, would have been changed in a single night into a heap of blackened stones and a pile of smoking cinders.
The large building of the popular Club de Vingt, or as one Washingtonian put it, the "Club De Vin," which had sprung into existence in the National Capital during the war, was ablaze with light and Benjamin Clymer, sitting at a small table in one corner of the dining-room, wished most heartily that it had been less crowded.
The next inevitable step was common to both meals. Colonel Escott would pour himself a glass of the vin ordinaire, a jug of which was set by every plate, and holding it up to the light, exclaim with simulated gusto, 'Ah! Fine old wine! Remarkably full rich flavour! At this pleasantry we would all gently laugh; and the word was free.
Italian wines are mostly red, the most noted in California being Chianti, and its California prototype. Tipo Chianti, made by the Asti Colony. Lacrima Christi Spumanti: The finest Italian champagne. Dry and of magnificent bouquet. Vin d'Oro Spumanti: A high-class champagne. Sweet and of fine bouquet and flavor. Lacrima Christi: A still wine of excellent flavor and bouquet.
Vin checked his tabs with the count of fish. The other men slushed decks clean with buckets of sea water. "Twenty-seven hundred," MacRae said. "Big morning. Every troller in the Gulf must be here." "No, I have to go to Folly Bay and Siwash Islands to-night," Vin told him. "There's about twenty boats working there and at Jenkins Pass. Salmon everywhere."
Our visits were always long, as most of the châteaux were at a certain distance, and we were obliged to stay an hour and a half, sometimes longer, to rest the horses. It was before the days of five-o'clock tea. A tray was brought in with sweet wine (Malaga or Vin de Chypre) and cakes (ladies'-fingers) which evidently had figured often before on similar occasions. Conversation languished sometimes, though Mme. A. was wonderful, talking so easily about everything. In the smaller places, when people rarely went to Paris, it ran always in the same grooves the woods, the hunting (very good in the Villers-Cotterets forest), the schoolmaster (so difficult to get proper books for the children to read), the curé, and all local gossip, and as much about the iniquities of the republic as could be said before the wife of a republican senator. Wherever we went, even to the largest châteaux, where the family went to Paris for the season, the talk was almost entirely confined to France and French interests. Books, politics, music, people, nothing existed apparently au-del
Mamma used to hold a kind of salon, with all the brightest and best crowding to it, though they got nothing but sweet biscuits, vin ordinaire, and conversation and besides, the house might have taken a fancy to fall down on their heads any minute. It was sporting of them to come at all!" "And the cousins. Did they come?" "Not they!
"My money vill come, or you vill vin, or something vill arrive to set all things right." "Let's hope so," the major said fervently. "It's a mercy to get out of these stiff and starched clothes; but I have to be careful of them, for me tailor bad cess to him! will give no credit, and there's little of the riddy knocking about. Without good clothes on me back I'd be like a sweeper without a broom."
She pushed Louie into a corner of the divan, and then she went over to a cupboard standing against the wall, and beckoned to David. 'Take the plates and this potted meat. Now for the petit vin my doctor cousin brought me last week from the family estate. I have stowed it away somewhere. Ah! here it is. We are from the Gironde at least my mother was.
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