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Updated: July 27, 2025
"How came it here?" said I, horror-struck at the loss the poor sailor had sustained. "Old Martin, of the 'Star, tells me he stole it from a marine of the Guard, and that it cost him twenty-four flasks of his best Pomard before the fellow and his companions were drunk enough to make the theft practicable."
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.
I hope we shall spend many a summer evening on the lawn, Jack, with a bottle of Pomard or St. Julien between us, watching the drowsy old anglers in their punts, and the swift outriggers flashing past in the twilight. I mean to find some snug little place by the river, you know, Saltram somewhere about Teddington, where the gardens slope down to the water's edge."
The waiter brings in a roast that drains into a lake of butter; the sun himself comes to the feast, makes the covers sparkle and the blades of the knives, sifts his golden dust through the carafes, and playing with the pomard that gently rocks in the glasses, spots with a ruby star the damask cloth. Oh, sacred joy of the guzzlers! My mouth is full and Francis is drunk!
In an instant he was back again, carrying a second basket under his arm, which he placed carefully on the table, saying, "Pomard of '87, gentlemen; I wish it were Chambertin for your sakes." "Tête bleue!that's what I call wine," said one, smacking his lips, as he tasted the generous liquor. "Yes," said Paul, "that's better than drinking the pink water they serve us out on service.
But I don't care about it at all. It is not so very amusing at Madame de Lyr's. She always invites such a number of serious people. No doubt they are influential people, and may prove useful, but what does that matter to me? Come to dinner. You know that there is a bottle left of that famous Pomard; I have kept it for your partridge.
The cloth was white, the cutlery bright, the oysters fresh; the partridge, cooked to perfection, exhaled a delightful odor. Madame was charming, and laughed at everything. Monsieur unbent his brows and stretched himself on the chair. Monsieur This Pomard is very good. Won't you have some, little dear? Madame Yes, your little dear will. Monsieur Ah! you have put on your Louis Seize ring.
Then he said in a weak, slow, and the quavering voice of an old man who is dying: 'The Pomard at the farther end on the left you know, my boy only for friends. He pressed my hand again, and, as if exhausted, closed his eyes, though I could see by the imperceptible motion of his lips that he was still smiling inwardly.
"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.
Remembering how tired we were, and the verse "Quand on boit du Pomard on devient bon on aime, On devient aussi bon que le Pomard lui-meme " we drank, hoping that the wine would awaken us. But the effect of that strong Southern wine seemed to be more lethargic than exhilarating, and when dinner was over and we had returned to our seats by the fireside we were too weary to talk, and too nervous.
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