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Updated: May 24, 2025
As we left the ante-room and sat down to Mess, Doe announced: "I've every intention of getting tight to-night." "Pourquoi pas?" said I. "C'est la guerre!" "Before I die," continued Doe, who was already flushed with gin and vermouth, "I want to have lived. I want to have touched all the joys and experiences of life. Pass the Chablis. Here's to you, Rupert. Cheerioh!"
I must look into the matter." A partridge and a bottle of Pomard followed the shrimps and chablis; and M. Casimir's loquacity increased, and his voice rose higher and higher.
"My dear Q. M., when you have had a headache, has it ever fallen to your lot to be in the company of a pretty woman?" "Else had I been one of the most neglected of men." "Well, she has fetched the Eau-de-Cologne, bathed your manly brow, and then blown her balmy breath over your temples. That sweet coolness, my dear fellow, is my idea of the proper temperature for Chablis."
If he could reach a table in the restaurant unsuspected success would be his. The portion of him that would show above the table would raise no doubt in the waiter's mind. A roasted mallard duck, thought Soapy, would be about the thing with a bottle of Chablis, and then Camembert, a demi-tasse and a cigar. One dollar for the cigar would be enough.
But he wanted Dale's drug again so badly that he obliged himself to describe his previous experiences to the best of his ability. "It was," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, "a golden, transparent liquid. Very golden, like a warm-tinted Chablis. When water was added it became streaked and opalescent, with a kind of living quiver in it. I held it up to the light." "Yes? And when you took it?"
'Take some of that Chablis: it will put you right; you will find it delicious. In this way some twenty minutes passed; their meal was over, and they were alone together. 'I have been thinking all this time of your position, said Sidonia. 'A sorry one, I fear, said Coningsby. 'I really cannot see that, said his friend. 'You have experienced this morning a disappointment, but not a calamity.
"They gave this one a damned good breakfast," he said, "and some very excellent white wine. Of course, the ice-machine was broken, it always is, but then Chablis never should be iced, if it's the real thing." "Chablis! Ice! Hah!" snorted Channing. "Listen to him! Do you know what I had for breakfast?" Keating turned away uncomfortably and looked toward the ships in the harbor.
How could he wish it to be lucid for others, for any one, that he, for the hour, saw reasons enough in the mere way the bright clean ordered water-side life came in at the open window? the mere way Madame de Vionnet, opposite him over their intensely white table-linen, their omelette aux tomates, their bottle of straw-coloured Chablis, thanked him for everything almost with the smile of a child, while her grey eyes moved in and out of their talk, back to the quarter of the warm spring air, in which early summer had already begun to throb, and then back again to his face and their human questions.
Now and then came cheery ripples of laughter from our little pavilion, where Germaine and Alice de Bréville were arranging a mass of scarlet nasturtiums, twining their green leaves and tendrils amongst the plates of hors d'oeuvres and among the dust-caked bottles of Chablis and Burgundy Alice, whose dark hair and olive skin are in strong contrast to Germaine's saucy beauty.
He searched the menu from top to bottom, and then from bottom to top; nothing excited his palate. Whenever persons entered, he would glance up eagerly, only to feel his heart sink lower and lower. I don't know how many times he was disappointed. The waiter ahemmed politely. Warburton, in order to have an excuse to remain, at length hit upon a partridge and a pint of Chablis. Nine o'clock.
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