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"Suddenly the air became wondrously mild. We saw the first fig-tree by the road-side. Chestnuts hung over our heads; we were in Isella, the boundary town of Italy. Otto sang, and was wild with delight; I studied the first public-house sign, 'Tabacca e vino. "How luxuriant became the landscape! Fields of maize and vineyards!
A severe cold, caught on the battlements of the Castle, prevented me from playing first fiddle so well as usual, but what I could do was received with the usual partiality of the Celts. I got home, fatigued and vino gravatus, about eleven o'clock.
"Questo vino è bello e fino, È portato da Castel Perini, Faccio brindisi alla Signora Ermini," continued Gaspare, joyously, and with an obvious pride in his poetical powers. They all drank simultaneously, Lucrezia spluttering a little out of shyness. "Monte Amato, Gaspare, not Castel Perini. But that doesn't rhyme, eh? Bravo! But we must drink, too." Gaspare hastened to fill two more glasses.
The feast days, which are numerous in Rome, on which labour is interdicted under a heavy penalty, are mostly passed at bowls; as the Sabbaths, on which labour is also forbidden, though under a much smaller penalty, are generally with the drawing of the lottery. All places of rendezvous beyond the walls have the sign of the balls, along with the accompanying intimation, Vino, Bianco e Rosso.
The chicken was followed by figs and peaches, cheese and Vino Santo, which the signora drank out of a tall glass with the arms of the order engraved on it. When they returned to their salon, the padre followed them to say, "You were surprised at Fra Lorenzo's appearance, I think a little startled, too.
But having pre-excited attention, we had full leisure to sharpen our eye. To these imprudent authors and actors we may apply a Spanish proverb, which has the peculiar quaintness of that people, Aviendo pregonado vino, venden vinagre: "Having cried up their wine, they sell us vinegar." A ridiculous humility in a preface is not less despicable.
"Behave, and keep quiet, now," said his Reverence, "you unfortunate pedagogue you; I tell you that you are inebriated." "Pardon me, your Reverence," replied O'Finigan; "non ebrius sed vino gravatus, devil a thing more." "Get out, you profligate," replied the priest, "don't you know that either, at this time o' day, is too bad?" "Nego, dominie nego, Dominie revendre denial is my principle, I say.
Like bad brandy or what the Spaniards call madre de vino and use for bringing light wine up to strength." Then Bethune took the glass from him and drained the last drops. "I think it is madre de vino. Pretty heady stuff and that glass would hold a lot." Stuyvesant nodded, for it was not a wineglass but a small tumbler.
The Young-Old Philosopher and I were sitting in one of the innumerable restaurants in New York where the sanctity of the law is about as much considered as a bicycle ride up Mt. Etna. At the next table indeed, all around us rich red wine was being poured into little cups. "The new motto of America should be 'In vino demi-tasse," my friend said, smiling. And I quite agreed with him.
"Come and sit down," she said. "Is your leg hurting you?" "Not more than usual," and he sat down beside her. "Won't you have some? 'In vino veritas; my friend." He shook his head, and said humbly: "I admire you, Leila." "That's lucky. I don't know anyone else who, would." And she drank her champagne at a draught.
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