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"Why! if it is not my engaging friend Monsieur Chambertin," he said gaily. He rose and stepped forward in the most approved fashion prescribed by the elaborate etiquette of the time.
I'll mix the salad dressing myself, tell him, oh, yes and a pint of Chambertin if you've something you can recommend."
Breton was directed to go to the cellars and fetch a dozen bottles of white chambertin. "You would have won, Vicomte," said the Chevalier, "but for a floating wick." "Your courtesy exceeds everything," returned the vicomte, bowing with drunken exaggeration. The doors slid back, and Jehan appeared on the threshold.
The dinner was capital just the kind a generous uncle will give to a blameless nephew. M. Mouillard, who has a long standing affection for chambertin, ordered two bottles to begin with. He drank the whole of one and half of the other, eating in proportion, and talked unceasingly and positively at the top of his voice, as his wont was.
Anyhow, I prefer this work to staying home to be hampered by intellectual boundaries. My vest will never reach the true proportions which would make me successful in politics." "You are luckier than I am," Breitmann replied. He sipped his wine slowly and with relish. How long was it since he had tasted a good chambertin? Perhaps Fitzgerald had noticed it when Breitmann came in.
"Pomard!" would slowly fall from his lips, or "Acceptable Musigny!" "This Chambertin is really very fair!" "The Chateau Yquem is not half bad!" etc., etc.
"Yes, that you sent me." "We sent you wine?" "You know very well the wine from the hills of Anjou." "Yes, I know what brand you are talking about." "The wine you prefer." "Well, in the absence of champagne and chambertin, you must content yourselves with that." "And so, connoisseurs in wine as we are, we have sent you some Anjou wine?" said Porthos.
"How do I know that they are all here?" he heard himself vaguely muttering, while his trembling fingers handled that precious packet. "That's just it!" his tormentor retorted airily. "You don't know. I don't know myself," he added, with a light laugh. "And, personally, I don't see how either of us can possibly ascertain. In the meanwhile, I must bid you au revoir, my dear M. Chambertin.
And it is just so with the poet, though he were only finishing an epigram; you must no more meddle roughly with him than you would shake a bottle of Chambertin and expect the "sunset glow" to redden your glass unclouded. On the other hand, it may be said that poetry is not an article of prime necessity, and potatoes are.
The dinner was capital just the kind a generous uncle will give to a blameless nephew. M. Mouillard, who has a long standing affection for chambertin, ordered two bottles to begin with. He drank the whole of one and half of the other, eating in proportion, and talked unceasingly and positively at the top of his voice, as his wont was.
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