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They had everything in common, and with their little savings they used to buy books, chosen by Louis, the foundation, as it proved, of his future library. Long before dawn on the first day of vacation the two bright, active boys would be on their homeward way, as happy as holiday could make them, especially if they were returning for the summer harvest or the autumn vintage.
The mother brings her babe to its father, the laborer bears the first fruits of the harvest. Autumn follows, the time of harvest. The central figure of the fountain group is Providence. The fruits of the year are brought in, and the vintage is in progress. Last of all comes Winter, the melancholy time when the trees are bare and the bark splits with the frost.
Clubbe nodded, with a curt laugh, which might have been intended to deprecate the possession of any opinion on a vintage, or to express his disbelief that Dormer Colville desired to have it. Nevertheless, his large person loomed in the dusk of the trees soon after sunset, in the narrow road leading from his house to the church and the green.
It is the woman who bursts the whole grape of sorrow against the irrepressible palate at such a moment; to a man like him the same grape distils a vintage of yearning that will brim the cup of memory many a time beside his lamp in the final years.
He inhaled the air, tasting it critically as a connoisseur tastes a vintage, and prolonging the expiration with hygienic gusto. He counted the little flecks of cloud along the sky. He followed the movements of the birds round the church tower making long sweeps, hanging poised, or turning airy somersaults in fancy, and beating the wind with imaginary pinions.
On such occasions everything is of the best, even for a simple lieutenant. At Sfax an officer on a visit meant one extra course, vintage wine and old liqueurs. "But this time I imagined from the looks the officers exchanged that perhaps the old stock would stay undisturbed in its cupboard. "'You have all, I think, heard of Captain de Saint-Avit, gentlemen, and the rumors about him.
"Shall I send for a doctor?" "No." In the evening he sent for his lawyer, János Sztolarik. He was quite lively when he came, made him sit down, and sent for another bottle of Tokay. "The February vintage, Anna," he called after her. The wine had been left him by his father, and dated from the year when there had been two vintages in Tokay in twelve months, one in February, and one in October.
She seemed to bear about her an atmosphere of poetry and love, the subtile spirit of that marvellous play. There was no air of study, not the faintest taint of the midnight oil; like a gatherer of roses from some garden of Cashmere, or a peasant-girl from the vintage, she brought only odors from her toil, the sweets of the fancy, a flavor of the passion she had made her own.
The threat of deserting just at the vintage season frightened the count, and he had to give in, and the embassy went its way in high glee at its success. Next Sunday we went to the chapel to hear mass, and when we came in the priest was at the altar finishing the Credo.
The grass was three feet high, and an osier thicket, planted the year before, had sprouts a yard high. From there we went to visit our wheat and our vines, fields bought one by one as fortune came to us. The wheat was growing strong; the vines, in full flower, promised a superb vintage. And Jacques laughed his good laugh as he slapped me on the shoulder.
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