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} - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>A MADEIRA PARTY</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="A Madeira Party" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="S. Weir Mitchell" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1895" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="43242" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-07-17" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="A Madeira Party" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="A Madeira Party" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="madeira.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-07-18T04:06:43.441962+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43242" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="S. Weir Mitchell" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2013-07-17" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a7 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="a-madeira-party"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">A MADEIRA PARTY</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: A Madeira Party -<br /> -<br />Author: S. Weir Mitchell -<br /> -<br />Release Date: July 17, 2013 [EBook #43242] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>A MADEIRA PARTY</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 86%" id="figure-28"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="A Madeira Party" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">A Madeira Party</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 47%" id="figure-29"> -<img class="align-center block center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="title page" src="images/img-title.jpg" /> -<div class="caption center centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Title Page</span></div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics x-large">A -<br />Madeira -<br />Party</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">By</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics large">S. Weir Mitchell</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">M.D., LL.D. (Harv.)</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Author of "Characteristics" -<br />"When all the Woods are Green" -<br />Etc., Etc.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">New York -<br />The Century Co. -<br />1895</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Copyright, 1895, -<br />By THE CENTURY CO.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">THE DEVINNE PRESS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#id1">A MADEIRA PARTY</a><span> -<br /></span><a class="reference internal" href="#a-little-more-burgundy">"A LITTLE MORE BURGUNDY"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 42%" id="figure-30"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Bowl" src="images/imig-003.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Bowl</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id1"><span class="bold large">A MADEIRA PARTY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Sometime early in the second -quarter of the century, in the -City of Penn, and in what was -then known as Delaware-Fourth -street, soon after dusk in the -evening, occurred the unimportant -events of which I shall speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The room was paneled in -white three feet up from the -floor, and above this a fox-hunt -was repeated in lively colors -on every square of the paper -which covered the walls. Great -hickory logs, ablaze on the deep -hearth, cast rosy light on a -mantelpiece, in the style of the -Directory, pretty with Cupids in -relief dragging chariots through -a tangle of roses. A similar -pattern on the ceiling resembled -what a visitor to the Zoölogical -Gardens may see to-day in the -small yellow house called -"Solitude," where Mr. Penn is said -to have been agreeably naughty -and by no means solitary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Silver candlesticks lighted a -table laid for four, and their light -fell on buff and gold Nankin -china, glass, and glistening plate. -A negro servant, well on in years, -dark as the mahogany he loved -to polish, with fine contrast of -very white hair, moved to and -fro in the room. His task was -clearly grateful. To adjust a -fork, snuff a wick, flick the dust -off a carved Cupid, evidently -gave him a certain grave pleasure. -At last, retreating a little -with head on one side, -artist-like, he considered for a -moment the table and the setting. -This final survey appeared to -be entirely to his liking, for with -a smile of satisfaction he turned -to inspect a row of decanters on -the mantel. One by one he lifted -them gently, saw that the glass -was clean, and for a moment -looked through each decanter -in turn as he held it before the -light of a candelabrum on the -side-table. The necessity to -present a wine absolutely free from -sediment he very well knew. -But it is probable that he also -found distinct pleasure in the -brilliant garnets and varied -amber tints of the several wines -before him; for he possessed, like -most of his race, an appreciative -joy in color, and had, too, more -or less artistic pleasure in the -perfection of the gleaming table -and its perfect appointments. -At last he turned to consider -the question of the temperature -of the precious wines in his -charge. Once or twice, when -to his touch a decanter seemed -too cool, he lifted it with care, -moved it to the hearth, and -after turning it about before the -fire set it back on the mantel. -Finally he looked up at the tall -Wagstaffe clock in the corner, -compared with it a huge silver -watch which he took from his -fob, and throwing open a pair -of mahogany doors, stood aside -as four gentlemen entered the -room. Each, as he went by, -spoke a kindly word to the old -servant. I can fancy the party -made a quaint and pleasant -picture in the old-fashioned -chamber, with their close-fitting -nankeen pantaloons, ample -shirt-ruffles, voluminous neckties, and -brass-buttoned blue coats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pray be seated," said -Hamilton. "Sit on my right, -Chestnut. I wish to see that my good -wine is not wasted. Your first -Madeira-drinking will seem -strange to you. Thirty years -away in Europe! Why, you -were but a boy when you left us! -Well, we are glad to have you -back again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I as pleased to be at -home," said Chestnut. As he -spoke he noted with the readiness -of a close observer of social -life the gentlemen about him -as they settled themselves at -table with an obvious air of -contentment. One, a strangely -slight and very ruddy old man, -after adjusting his napkin with -care over his waistcoat, said, -as he looked up, "Well, well, -you have lost a good deal of time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is sadly true," said the -stranger guest. "I have tasted -no Madeira these twenty years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I fear, my friend, from -what Hamilton tells me, that you -will hardly appreciate the charm -of one of these little occasions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how could I? And still, -let me assure you, my dear -Mr. Wilmington, that the importance -of the opportunity will not be lost -on me, nor the good wine either, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I trust not," said the elder -man. "To consider with care -some new Madeiras is—well, -for that a man should have -perfect health and entire tranquillity -of mind. Sir, the drinking of these -great wines is something more -than a social ceremony or the -indulgence of an appetite. It is, -sir,—but I see Francis smiling—you -may imagine the rest. I -had an old friend who, when -dying, declined to have his -wine whey made out of a -famous old Madeira, saying that -it was a waste of a good thing -on a palate which was past -knowing sherry from port. -That was, in my opinion, a -well-bred and judicious use of conscience."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was a certain refinement -of unselfishness about it," -said Chestnut. "I was on the -point of asking you if, in your -opinion, these finer wines are -apt to tempt men into coarser -indulgence? I have heard it -so said."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not think it," returned -Wilmington. "I am well aware, -sir, that there are brutes who may -make worse pigs of themselves -with Madeira, or with anything; -but as far as my memory serves -me, I recall no occasion, sir, on -which I have seen men who truly -appreciate this wine, the worse -for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pretty strong statement," -laughed Francis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope, sir, you do not mean -to doubt—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, by no means," cried the -other, interrupting the irascible -old man. "Not I. Pardon -me—a thousand pardons!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Enough, sir! Thank you," -and he bowed formally. "I was -saying, or I was about to say, -when—but, no matter"— And -he turned to their host:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope, Hamilton, you have -not arranged for a heavy supper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How could you suspect me -of that? A trifle of terrapin, -without wine in the dressing, as a -friend gave them to me last week -in Baltimore. Then I shall offer -you the breast of a canvasback. -That is all. For an honest and -refined study of Madeiras which -are new to the palate, one should -have supped wisely and not too well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems so odd," said Chestnut, -"to come back to terrapin -and canvasbacks. I was unwise -enough to send my French -servant yesterday to buy some -terrapin, never dreaming he could -have any difficulty with a written -order, as also he speaks English -fairly. He returned with the -statement that the old dealer you -commended to me would not serve -Mr. Hamilton's friend </span><em class="italics">parce qu'il -n'avait pas des comtes.</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that a true tale, Chestnut?" -asked Francis, amid the -amusement of the others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is true. It was -explained to me later that the -dealer said the terrapin were -not </span><em class="italics">counts</em><span>. I believe my man -came back with an obscure -idea that terrapin belong to -the nobility. He did fetch me -some very fine ducks, however."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Talking of ducks, my dear -Wilmington," said Francis, "tell -Chestnut what Wharton said -of them at dinner here last week."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gentleman addressed -looked up. His face, on which -were many furrows of laughter, -grew slowly merry at the remembrance -of the jest he was called on to repeat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, some of us were -rather heavily discussing the -duck-shooting on the Chesapeake. -Wharton does not shoot, and, -getting tired of the talk, said -quietly, 'Did it ever happen to -any of you to go out after -Russia duck and get nothing but -canvas back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For a moment we were all -caught by the verbal likelihood -of it; but when the laugh came -it broke up the duck talk, to -Wharton's delight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, he said charming things; -and now they are mostly -forgotten," said the host.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well," cried Wilmington, -"so are the dinner and the -wine of last year; but one would -have been worse off without -them. What was it he said of -Colonel M——? Oh, yes. How -the merry ghost of a jest haunts -one, and at last recalls the -substance! The colonel had been -in the army, and later settled on a -sugar-plantation. Wharton said -of him, quoting Burns, "'His -'prentice han' he tried on man, -and then he made the lasses O!"'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Delightful!" cried Chestnut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here is the terrapin," said -Hamilton; and the supper went -on with luxurious simplicity. -Next came the ducks, which -the host adroitly carved. Then -the cloth was removed, the -shining candelabra replaced on the -polished mahogany table, and -a crust of bread on a plate set -by each guest. Meantime the -talk continued, while Chestnut -looked on, much amused at the -gravity which of a sudden fell -upon the party.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Olives?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Wilmington, -declining. "Nothing cleans the -palate like bread. For red wines, -a peach helps one's taste. Your -table is perfect, Hamilton;" and, -turning to the servant, "It does -you credit, Uncle John. How -many a fellow must have rolled -under it when it was young! Ah, -your old decanters and those -coasters could tell some queer tales."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pretty word, 'coaster,'" -remarked Chestnut. "Coasters -delivering wine at the human -harbors around the table."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not in the dictionaries," -said Francis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Odd, that," returned Hamilton. -"You may like to know, -Chestnut, that at this table -Washington, Lafayette, and Franklin -have dined."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All Madeira men, I doubt -not," said Wilmington; "that -accounts for a good deal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps," said the host, -smiling. "Ah, I see you glancing at -the cigars, Chestnut. But, -alas! they are forbidden until the -Madeira has been tasted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cigars!" exclaimed Wilmington. -"The mere odor in -a room destroys the palate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never held to this -belief," said Francis, addressing -Chestnut. "But it is common -among the lovers of wine. I -would like to put Wilmington -on oath as to this strange -opinion. At least he will permit me -to ask him if he believes that -smoking affects the taste of all -wines?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is but one wine," returned Wilmington.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And his name is Madeira, -of course," laughed Francis. -"But there are other juices of -the grape which cannot be quite -set aside as bastards."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I might give a little -corner of esteem to the highest -grades of Burgundy," said the -old gentleman. "No other, -not even the finest claret, but -is underbred compared to this -aristocrat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't go quite so far as -that," said Francis. "Ah, me! -Do you remember, Hamilton, -that gay day at Dijon, long -years ago, in the Hôtel Jura, -and the way that old innkeeper -fell in love with you, and -lavished on us a varied -harem of wines ever better and -better, until at last you -admitted, as to a famous Beaune, -that it was equal to any Madeira—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What—what—I, sir? No, -sir! My judgment must have -been disturbed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it is true."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, maybe; but—it is -not so to-day," said Wilmington. -"There is but one wine. -I loved it when I was young; -no new mistress can disturb my -affections. I never touch it -now without a thought of the -friends at whom I have smiled -a health across it in days long -past. For the fool, a wine is -wine and nothing more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True, true," said Francis. -"For me too, it is a magician. -I never lift to my lips a glass -of this noble wine without -seeing faces that are gone, -and hearing the voices and the -laughter and the jests that are -no more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wine makes poets of us all!" -exclaimed Hamilton. "Once -I asked Wilmington what he -saw, for he was staring down -into his glass, and he said he -saw memories. By George! we -were all as still as mice for a -moment. But he is right; -there is but one wine, and that, -like tobacco, is an American -discovery."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can talk tobacco with you -all day," said Chestnut. "Wine -is another matter. We should -have a monument to that -unknown Indian brave who -evolved the pipe. How did he -do it? There is the simplicity -of genius about it. I can -understand the discovery of America, -and the invention of printing; -but what human want, what -instinct, led up to tobacco? -Imagine intuitive genius capturing -this noble idea from the odors -of a prairie fire! Surely, Lamb's -roast pig was nothing to the -discovery of the gentle joy of a -wholesome pipe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a droll fancy!" said -Francis. "I envy that fellow his -first smoke—the first pipe of man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My envy," said Chestnut, -"is reserved for that medieval -priest who by happy chance -invented champagne. His first -night in the convent wine-cellar -with the delicious results of his -genius must have been—I wonder -no poet has dwelt on this theme."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We were talking about -Madeira," remarked Wilmington, -impatiently. "You were about -to say, Hamilton,—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only that I am not quite so -clear as to our credit for -discovering Madeira," said their host.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No? It is all in Smith's -'Wealth of Nations.' Great -Britain allowed no trade with France -or Spain; but as to what were -called non-enumerated articles -we were permitted to trade with -the Canary and Madeiras. We -took staves and salt fish thither, -and fetched back wines. It so -happened that the decisive -changes of weather our winter -and summer afford did more to -ripen this wine than its native -climate. The English officers -during the French war found -our Madeiras so good that they -took the taste to England."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yet," said Chestnut, -"Madeira is never good in -England. Is it climate, or that they -do not know how to keep it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Both—both," returned -Wilmington. "They bottle all wines, -and that is simply fatal. -Madeira was never meant to be -retailed. It improves in its own -society, as greatness is apt to do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I myself fancy," said the -host, "that despite English usage, -even port is better for the larger -liberty of a five-gallon -demijohn. I tried this once with -excellent result. The wine became -pale and delicate like an old -Madeira."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How all this lost lore comes -back to me as I used to hear it -at my father's table!" said -Chestnut. "I recall the prejudice -against wine in bottle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Prejudice, sir?" retorted -Wilmington, testily. "Your -demijohn has one cork; your -five gallons in bottles, a dozen -or two of corks, and the corks -give an acrid taste. Some wise -old Quaker found this out, sir. -That is why there is so little -good wine in Charleston and -Boston. They bottle their wine. -Incredible as it may seem, sir, -they bottle their wine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is sad," returned Chestnut, gravely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep it in demijohns in -moderate darkness under the -roof," returned Francis. "Then -it accumulates virtue like a -hermit. I once had a challenge -from the Madeira Club in -Charleston to test our local -theory. They sent me two dozen -bottles of their finest Madeira. -When we came to make a trial -of them, we were puzzled at -finding the corks entire, but not -a drop of wine in any of the -bottles. At last I discovered that -some appreciative colored -person had emptied them by the -clever device of driving a nail -through the hollow at the base -of the bottles. I found, on -experiment, that it could easily -be done. A letter from my -friends forced me to tell the story. -I fancy that ingenious servant -may have suffered for his too -refined taste."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he had the Madeira," -said Wilmington grimly, glancing -at the old servant. "I have -no doubt Uncle John here has -a good notion of Madeira."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old black grinned -responsively, and said, with the -familiarity of an ancient retainer, -"It's de smell ob it, sar. Ye gets -to know 'em by de smell, sar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is it, no doubt," -laughed Francis. "By and by -we shall all have to be content -with the smell. It is becoming -dearer every year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I found yesterday," said -Hamilton, "an invoice of -fifty-eight pipes of Madeira, of the -date of 1760. The wine is set -down as costing one dollar and -four cents a gallon. I should -have thought it might have been -less, but then it is spoken of as -very fine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My father," returned Wilmington, -"used to say that the -newer wines in his day were not -much dearer than good old -cider. They drank them by the -mugful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I remember," said Francis, -"that Graydon speaks of it in -his 'Memoirs.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who? What?" cried Wilmington, -who was a little deaf. -"Oh! Graydon—yes, I know -the man and the book, of course, -but I do not recall the passage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He says: 'Our company'—this -was in 1774—'our company -was called "The Silk-Stocking -Company." The place of -rendezvous was the house of our -captain,[#] where capacious -demijohns of Madeira were -constantly set out in the yard, where -we formed for regular -refreshment before marching out to -exercise.' He was most amusing, -too, as to why the captain was -so liberal of his wine: but I -can't quite recall it, and I hate -to spoil a quotation. You would -find the book entertaining, -Chestnut."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>[#] Afterward General John Cadwalader.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How delightful!" exclaimed -Chestnut. "Capacious -demijohns in the yard, and the -descendants of Penn's -Quakers—anti-vinous, anti-pugnacious -Quakers—drilling for the -coming war! By George! one can -see it. One guesses that it was -not out of such fairy glasses as -these they drank the captain's -Madeira."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am reminded," cried -Hamilton, "that I have a letter of -the captain's brother, Colonel -Lambert Cadwalader, to Jasper -Yeates, at Lancaster, in 1776. -It is interesting. Wait a -moment; I will get it." And so -saying, he left the table, and -presently returning said, "I will -read only the bit about the wine. -It shows how much store they -set by their good wine even in -those perilous days."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Take particular care of the red -chest clampt with iron herewith -sent, which contains some bonds -and mortgages which I could not -take out, the key being lost; and -also that you would be kind -enough to let the two quarter-casks -of Madeira, painted green, -be deposited in some safe place -under lock and key in your cellar, -if possible where you keep your -own liquors in a safe place, as I -value them more than silver and -gold in these times of misfortune -and distress."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Then he goes on to tell the -news of Washington's victory at -Trenton."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a glimpse at the life -of those days!" said Chestnut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the chat the servant -had placed before the host a -half-dozen quart decanters filled -with wine of various hues and -depths of color.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now for the wine! We -have been losing time," -exclaimed their host.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he spoke, the servant set -on either side of the fire a -brass-bound, painted bucket in which -were a number of decanters—the -reserve reinforcements to be -used if the main army gave out. -Meanwhile the desultory chat -went on as the servant distributed -the glasses. These were arranged -in rather an odd fashion. In the -center of the table was set a -silver bowl of water. The notches -in the rim received each the -stem of an inverted glass. -Before every guest a glass bowl, -much like a modern finger-bowl, -held also two wine-glasses. -Thus there was to be a glass for -each wine, or at need the means -for rinsing a glass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The talk had been more -entertaining to the younger men -and their host than to -Wilmington. He had come for the -purpose of tasting wines, and -was somewhat annoyed at the delay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dined with Starling last -week," he said. "Never was -more insulted in my life, sir. -Had his after-dinner wine—all -of it, sir—in pint decanters!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not, really?" said Francis, -with a seriousness by no means -assumed. "In pints! You are -quite sure you are correct?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fact, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—!" exclaimed Chestnut. -"Pardon me; but I fail to see -the insult."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! You, sir! Your -father's son! Gentlemen do not -serve wine in pints after dinner. -They don't do it; and the wine -was bad—sick, thick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I see. I have been long -enough away to have forgotten -many things. As to these wines -you all discuss so critically, I -have tasted some of them of late, -and they seemed to me much alike."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alike, sir! You surprise me," -said Wilmington. "I pity you. -What a waste of opportunities! -But it is not too late to -reform—to learn. I know one man who -made a quite correct palate at -the age of forty—not a -gentleman, either; and that 's rather -remarkable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And is that so rare?" cried -Chestnut, much delighted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, very," said Francis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew the man," returned -Hamilton. "He died somewhat -early. However, I have noticed -that the acquisition of a taste for -Madeira in middle life is quite -fatal to common people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that so?" said Chestnut, -greatly enjoying it all. "Upon -my word, I still have a dim -memory of all this stuff about wine, -as I used to hear it when a lad. -I thought it had gone with other -superstitions. To be frank, I -have so little trust in the tales -I hear every day after dinner, -about wine and wine-tasting, that—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me," interrupted -Wilmington. "Of course you -can hear much that is foolish; -but to my mind the real facts are -very often interesting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Such as—?" asked Chestnut. -"Pray tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hamilton will indorse this -as an illustration. He was one -of eight gentlemen—of whom -three are nowhere—who were -asked to give judgment on -certain wines. Each man wrote his -opinion as to the value, age, and -quality of each specimen, and -folding over the paper passed it -with the wine. Finally, -Hamilton read aloud each statement. -The estimated price, or value, -of a demijohn—that is of five -gallons—of each was given; the -age, the character, the defects, -and so on. The prices assigned -to the grape-juices varied much, -because most of us cared for -them but little. As to the -Madeiras pure and simple, the -conclusions as to value, age, and -quality were so very much -alike as even to surprise some of us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is, I suppose," said -Chestnut, who began to take a more -serious interest, "a matter of -habit—acquired habit—and -attention."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Hamilton. "Far -more is it a gift. Some women -have it wonderfully."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, after all," said Francis, -"why should appreciative -delicacy of palate amaze us more -than sharpness of vision or -delicacy of touch?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only because a fine taste is, -of all forms of sensory acuteness, -the rarest," returned Hamilton. -"It is still more uncommon to -have a perfect memory of taste, -while odors are so easily remembered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have known certain -persons in whom refined delicacy -of palate was accompanied with -an almost incredible -remembrance of past impressions as -to the taste of things. Our -old friend Mr. C——, as we all -know, could recall a particular -coffee or tea he had tasted years -ago; could say what wines had -been by accident mixed in the -Madeira he drank; and was able -to declare, as a test of his -singular skill, in which of two clean -wine-glasses a boiled egg had -been placed a day or two before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is interesting," said -Chestnut; "but to me, if -not incredible, it is at least -made almost so by my own -deficiencies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, now, to reëducate -you," said Hamilton, "let us -exchange theory for practice." So -saying, he put on his -spectacles, and began to scan the -silver labels on his decanters, -and to rearrange the order of -the row of wines, so as to -present them somewhat as opinions -are given in a council of -war—the least esteemed first. -Meanwhile he said: "Wilmington -likes his wine cool. It is a -grave question. I prefer it a -trifle above the temperature of -the room. It insures a more -perfect presentation both of taste -and smell. A little chill may -cloud wine, or repress its -bouquet. We are all agreed that -the wine should be at rest in a -warm room some days, or longer, -before it is drunk. Nothing -mellows a wine like that. And then -one must be careful not to have -wine shaken; that bruises it. -But this is commonplace, -Chestnut; I am merely giving you a -preliminary education. I think -you will find these Madeiras in -good condition, carefully drawn -and bright. I ought to add -that they are all drawn with the -siphon, so as not to disturb -the salts which crystallize on -the sides of the demijohn, or the -deposit every wine lets fall, as -a good man drops his faults as -he goes on in life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just a word before we take -our wine," said Francis. "I saw -Chestnut smile at the idea of a -wine being bruised. I can tell -him a story about that. We -were dining at the Quoit Club, -in Germantown, and were at -table when Wilmington, who -was in the habit of riding out -to the club, arrived somewhat -late. We came by and by to -the Madeiras. I saw the -general taste a wine, as if in doubt. -At last he looked up, and said: -'Wilmington, this wine is -bruised; you brought the bottle -out in your coat-tail pocket—the -left pocket.' We were soon -convinced as to the wine -having been thus shaken out of -health; but his inference as to -the left pocket puzzled us all, -until the general asked some -one to stand up, and to put a -bottle in his own coat-tail pocket. -Then the reason of my friend's -conclusion became clear -enough—however, I delay the wine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, here it is," said -Hamilton, filling his glass. Then he -passed the decanter to Wilmington, -on his left, saying, "With -the sun, gentlemen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fair grape-juice," said the -latter; "but a trifle too warm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what," said Chestnut, -"is a grape-juice? All wines are -merely that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, usually it is the -product of the south side of the -island, sometimes of one -vineyard, but untreated by the -addition of older wines; sweet, of -course; apt to be pale. When -a Madeira-drinker speaks of a -grape-juice, that is what he -means. But a Madeira—what -we call simply a Madeira—is -apt to be dry, and usually is -the result of careful blending -of wines and some maturing by -natural heat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But in time," said Chestnut, -"your grape-juice becomes -a Madeira. Certainly this is -delicious! How refined, how -delicate it is!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, you will learn," cried -Wilmington. "But wait a -little. A grape-juice never -becomes what we denominate a Madeira."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't agree with you," -said the host.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are in very deep water -now," laughed Francis. "I, -myself, think the finest of the -old dry Madeiras were once -sugary maidens."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense," said Hamilton, -passing the next wine. "With -the sun."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why with the sun?" said -Chestnut, infinitely delighted -by these little social -superstitions and the odd phrases.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because it sours a wine -to send it to the right," said -Wilmington, dryly. "That is -a fact, sir,—a well-known fact."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Droll, that," returned -Chestnut. "I wonder whence came -that notion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a pretty old one; -possibly Roman. The Greeks -passed their drink to the right. -Wine is a strange fluid. It has -its good and its bad days."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am willing to say its -moods," added Hamilton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose," continued the -older man, "that you will be -entirely skeptical if I assure you -that for women to go into a -wine-room is pretty surely to -injure the wine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, is that so?" -returned Chestnut. "I am not -surprised. In France women -are not allowed to enter the -great cheese-caves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wine is very sensitive," said -Francis. "I give you this story -for what it is worth:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A planter in the South -told me that once two blacks -were arranging bottles in his -wine-room, and quarreled. One -stabbed the other. The fellow -died, and his blood ran over the -floor; and from that day the -wines in that room were bitter. -You know that bitterness is one -form of the sicknesses to which -Madeira is liable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This amazing tale was received -with entire tranquillity by -all save Chestnut, whose education -was progressing. Meanwhile -another decanter went round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I congratulate you," cried -Wilmington, as he set down his -glass. "A perfect grape-juice—new -to me too. High up, sir; -very high up"; and refilling his -glass, he sent on the coaster. -"Observe, Chestnut, the -refinement of it; neither the sweet nor -the bouquet is too obvious. It -is like a well-bred lady. -Observe what a gamut of delicate -flavors; none are excessive. -And then at last there -remains in the mouth a sort of -fugitive memory of its delightfulness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As one remembers the lady -when she is gone," said Francis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks," said the old gentleman, bowing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I wrong," said Chestnut, -"in fancying that there is -here a faint flavor of orange-water?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well!" said Wilmington. -"And this man says he has -no palate! That is the charm -of these lovely wines: they are -many things to many lovers—have -for each a separate enchantment. -I thought it was -a rose-water taste; but no -matter, you may be correct. But -Hamilton can give you a better -wine. No grape-juice can -compete with the best Madeiras. -In wine and man the noblest -social flavors come with years. -It is pure waste to ask to -dinner any man under forty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now fill your glasses," -said Hamilton. "Are you all -charged? Your health, -gentlemen! I waited for this wine;" -and he bent his head to each in -turn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That good old formula, 'Are -you all charged?' is going out," -said Chestnut. "I used to hear -it when I came in to dessert at -my father's table."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One rarely hears it nowadays," -remarked Francis. "But -at the Green Tree Insurance -Company's dinners it is still in -habitual use. When the cloth -is off, the President says, 'Are -you all charged, gentlemen?' -and then, 'Success to the -Mutual Assurance Company.' You -know, Chestnut, its insurance -sign—still to be seen on our -older houses—is a green tree. -The Hand in Hand Insurance -Company refused to insure -houses in front of which were -trees, because in the last -century the fire-engines were -unable to throw a stream over or -through them. The Mutual -accepted such risks, and hence has -been always known popularly -in Philadelphia as the Green -Tree. After a pause, the -Vice-President rises and repeats the -formal query, 'Are you all -charged?' The directors then -stand up, and he says, 'The -memory of Washington.' We -have a tradition that the news -of the great general's death in -1799 came while the Board of -Directors was dining. From -that time until now they have -continued to drink that toast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like that," said Chestnut. -"These ancient customs seem to -survive better here than -elsewhere in America."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is true," returned -Hamilton. "And what you say -reminds me of some odd rules in -the Philadelphia Library, which -Franklin founded in 1731. We -have—at our own cost, of course—a -supper of oysters roasted in -the shell at a wood fire in the -room where we meet. A -modest bowl of rum punch -completes the fare. Old Ben was -afraid that this repast would -degenerate into a drinking-bout -such as was too common in his -time. He therefore ingeniously -arranged a table so high that it -was impossible to sit at it, and -this shrewd device seems to have answered."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I became a director -of the library," said Francis, -"my predecessor had been -ill for two years. As a -consequence, he was fined a shilling -for non-attendance at each -meeting. This, with the charges -for suppers, and for the use of -the library as a stockholder, had -accumulated a debt of some -fifty dollars. Now, as Franklin -found it difficult to collect such -debts from estates, he made it -a rule that the new director, -while pleased with the freshness -of his novel honor, should pay -the bill of the man he succeeded; -and accordingly I paid my -predecessor's debts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How like Poor Richard!" -said Wilmington.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was consoled," added -Francis, "by the reflection that -I always had the sad privilege -of leaving my successor a similar obligation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Agreeable, that," -murmured Wilmington. "But we -are trifling, my dear Francis. -What is next, Hamilton? Ah, -a new wine. That is a wine -indeed! A Madeira. Stay! I -have drunk it before. A Butler -wine, is n't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. I misplaced the decanters; -this should have come later."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see now," said Chestnut. -"What is that curious -aftertaste? Prunes? Is n't it -prunes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," cried Hamilton. -"You are doing well, Chestnut. -These noble old wines have a -variety of dominant flavors, with -what I might call a changeful -halo of less decisive qualities. -We call the more or less -positive tastes apple, peach, prune, -quince; but in fact these are -mere names. The characterizing -taste is too delicate for -competent nomenclature. It is a -thing transitory, evanescent, -indefinable, like the quality of the -best manners. No two are alike."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Hamilton; "and -this same wine, in bottles, after -a few years would quite lose -character. Even two -demijohns of the same wine kept in -one room constantly differ, like -two of a family."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As you talk of these wines," -said Chestnut, "I dimly recall -the names of some I used to -hear. 'Constitution,' a Boston -wine, was one—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And a good vintage, too," -said Hamilton. "It was the -class wine of 1802."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The class wine?" queried -Chestnut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. At Harvard each class -used to import a tun of wine, -which, after it was bottled, was -distributed among the -graduates. I still have two of the -bottles with '1802,' surrounded -by 'Constitution,' molded in the -glass."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A good wine it was," added -Francis. "I know of no other -which has been so little hurt by -being bottled."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There were others I used -also to hear about. One, I think, -was called 'Resurrection'—a -wine buried for protection in -the war; but some of the names -of these wines puzzle me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Butlers," returned -Francis, "of course represent in -their numbering the successive -annual importations of Major -Pierce Butler for his own use. -Some wines were called from the -special grape which produced -them, as Bual, Sercial, Vidogna. -As to others, it was a quality, as -in the case of the famous -apple-wine; or the name of the ship -in which the wine came to us, -as the Harriets (pale and dark), -the Padre; others again were -wines long held by families, as -the Francis, Willing, Butler, and -Burd Madeiras."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Might I ask how long may -a Madeira live, and continuously -gain in value for the palate?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, that depends on the -wine," said Hamilton. "I never -drank a wine over seventy years -old which had not something -to regret—like ourselves, eh, -Wilmington?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have nothing to regret," -returned the elder man, -smiling, "except that I cannot live -my life over precisely as it was. -I have neglected no -opportunity for innocent amusement, -nor—" and he paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For some others," added -Francis, amid a burst of laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fancy," said Chestnut, -"that Mr. Wilmington is of the -opinion of Howell. You will -find it in those letters of his -which Walpole loved."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what was that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is long since I read it. -I am not quite sure I can -repeat it accurately. He -contends in a humorous vein for -the moral value of wine—I -think he is speaking of Canary. -'Of this,' he says, 'may be -verified that merry induction—that -good wine makes good blood; -good blood causeth good -thoughts; good thoughts bring -forth good works; good works -carry a man to heaven: </span><em class="italics">ergo</em><span>, -good wine carrieth a man to -heaven.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It sounds like one of -Shakspere's fools," said Hamilton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to read that -book," added Wilmington.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is at your service," -replied Chestnut; "and what else -he says of wine is worth reading."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then let us get nearer to -good works," laughed their -host. "Here is a pleasant -preacher. Try this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," said Wilmington; "a -new friend! Curious, that. -Observe, Chestnut, the just -perceptible smoke-flavor—a fine, -clean-tasting, middle-aged wine—a -gentleman, sir, a gentleman! -Will never remind you -to-morrow of the favor he did -you last night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Needs time," said Francis, -"and a careful fining—a little -egg-shell and the white of one egg."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One might risk it," said -Wilmington. "But I would -rather use a milk fining. It is -more delicate, and the wine -recovers sooner, unless the dose -of milk be too large. But above -all, Hamilton, be careful about -the moon. A summer fining -might be better, but touch it -lightly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What on earth has the moon -to do with it?" said Chestnut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you want to spoil a -Madeira," answered Wilmington, -"fine it at the change of the -moon. I spoiled my dark -Harriet that way. Always fine a -wine during the decline of the -moon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall call this wine -'Smoke,'" said Hamilton. "Its -name is really Palido. -Certainly it has a great future. No -better wine ever coasted along -the shores of this table, and it -has seen many vinous voyages. -And now for a very interesting -vintage. A little more bread, -John. 'With the sun.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wilmington ate a morsel of -bread, rinsed a glass in the bowl -before him, filled it to the brim, -and slowly emptied it. Then -he set it down deliberately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is not Madeira, Hamilton; -that is sherry. Some mistake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What!" cried Francis. -"Wrong for once! It is -Madeira, and old,—too old, I -should say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought I should puzzle -you. I have but little of it left, -and it is new to all of you. Two -generations have disputed its -parentage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I might be mistaken," said -Wilmington. "There are -Madeiras so like some rare sherries -as to puzzle any palate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I myself," said Hamilton, -"have an inherited belief that -it is Madeira. It is difficult to -tell, at times, a very old Madeira -from a very aged sherry. The -Burd wine was remarkable -because no one could decide this -question. I have heard an old -friend remark that the age of -all great wines brought them -together as to taste. Thus a -certain Charles March -grape-juice and Blue Seal Johannisberger -were scarcely to be told apart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I leave you to settle it," -said Chestnut, rising, well aware -how long the talk would last. -"The knowledge I have -acquired has, of a verity, gone to -my head,—I suppose because, -as Miss M—— says, nature -abhors a vacuum. Thank you for -a delightful evening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But sit down for five -minutes," said Hamilton, who had -risen with his guest. "There is a -beautiful story about this wine. -I must tell it, even if it be -familiar to Wilmington as his own -best joke."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Delighted," said Chestnut, -resuming his place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Hamilton, "I -will not keep you long. This -wine came ashore on Absecom -Beach from a Spanish wreck, -about 1770. Then it was brought -to Trenton, and my great-uncle -bought it. All but a demijohn -was buried in his garden at the -old house, not far from Princeton, -to keep it out of British -stomachs. The one demijohn -kept for use made the mischief -I shall tell you of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Try that grape-juice, -Wilmington. No? Then let -Francis have his cigar. My Cuban -friend shocks me with the late -rise of prices. Eighteen dollars -a thousand makes one hesitate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It does, indeed," said -Francis. And soon the room was -hazy with delicate smoke, as -Hamilton continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was during the war, you -know. My great-uncle Edward, -who was with Washington, heard -that his wife was ill. He got -leave, managed to cross the -Delaware, and in citizen's clothes -made his way to his own -country-house near Princeton. There -he learned that she was not -seriously ill, and as the country was -full of British scouts, he resolved -to go back next day to his -duties in Washington's camp. The -friend who had aided his -adventure and was to set him across -the Delaware again, came in -about nine of the evening; and -to aid them with the wisdom -which is in wine, the demijohn of -this disputed wine was brought -out. Also a noble bowl of rum -punch was brewed, and divers -bottles were allowed their say, -so that when Mr. Trent -departed, Uncle Ned retired in -some haste lest he should not -be able to retire at all. It is -probable that he left the candles to -burn, and the hall door to close -itself. About three in the -morning, having snored off his rum -and some wine, and hearing a -noise, he put on his boots and -a wrapper, and taking his -pistols, went down-stairs. As he -entered the dining-room there were -candles burning, fresh logs on -the fire, and facing him sat an -English captain, with his dirty -boots on my aunt's best -Chippendale arm-chair, and in act to -swallow a glass of wine. Uncle -Ned stepped through the open -door and covered the -unexpected guest with his pistol, at -the same time remarking (and -he was really the most -imperturbable of men), 'Perhaps you -are not aware that you are -making free with my best Madeira, -and really—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Don't shoot, I beg you, -until I finish my glass,' said the -captain, calmly. 'Did I -understand you to say Madeira? -Madeira! It's sherry—unmistakably -sherry! Of course, I don't -dispute the ownership.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Very kind of you,' remarked -Uncle Ned. 'There seems to -have been a considerable -transfer of ownership.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'That is so,' replied the -captain. 'I am like Mary after she -ate her lamb. "Every where that -Mary went that lamb was sure -to go." Permit me to apologize. -The sherry—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I have had the honor to -assure you that it is Madeira.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Madeira! Great George!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now Uncle Ned hated the -king, and loved his wife, and -greatly honored his own taste in -wine. Both his prejudices and his -affection had been lightly dealt -with, so he said tartly: 'There -is only one Great George, and -he is across the Delaware, and -the wine is Madeira, and you -have soiled my wife's chair; and -I wait, sir, to learn your errand.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I grieve, sir, to say that you -will quite too soon know my -errand, when I call up the -troopers who are back of the house; -or if you are in haste a shot from -you will do as well. Meanwhile -permit me most humbly -to apologize to Mrs. Hamilton. -I regret to continue to differ -concerning the wine. As to -your George, he is a very small -rebel George. And now I -am obliged most reluctantly -to finish my unfortunate -business; perhaps, however, we had -better see the last of the wine; -you may not have another -opportunity.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These remarks somewhat -sobered Uncle Ned, and he -became of a sudden aware of the -trap he was in. So he sat down, -with his pistols convenient, and -saying, 'With all my heart,' -began to push the bottle. The -Britisher was good company, -and his temper was already so -mellowed by wine that he was -fast nearing the stage of abrupt -mental decay which mellowness -naturally precedes. He -graciously accepted a tumbler of -punch, which my uncle -contrived to make pretty strong, and -then numberless glasses of wine, -enlivened by very gay stories, at -which my uncle was clever. At -last the captain rose and said -with some gravity, 'The glasses -appear to be all t-twins. We -have made a night of it. When -you make a n-night of it you -improve the s-shining hours. And -now my painful duty—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'One glass more,' said my -uncle; 'and about that story. -Pray pardon me, I interrupted you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Oh, yes,' said the captain, -emptying a very stiff glass of -rum punch, which by no means -put its own quality into the -lessening vigor of his legs. 'As -I was saying, I knew a man -once—very clever man; loved -a girl—very clever girl. Man -consumedly fond of liquor. Girl -did n't know which he liked best, -the wine or the woman. One -day that girl—he told her a very -foolish story about not askin' for -wine if she would put a k-kiss in -the glass. And that day, instead -of a k-kiss she put a little note -inside the decanter; and when -he had drunk up the wine, and -the men were laughing at this -f-fashion of billet-doux, he broke -the decanter with the poker -and r-read the note. Give you -my word, he never drank a drop -after that; and the note, it was -a very c-clever note, and it just -said—' But at this moment the -captain made a queer noise in -his throat, and slipped down, -overcome with rebel rum and -much Madeira. Uncle Ned -humanely loosened his cravat and -sword-belt, and lost no time in -creeping through the dark to his -friend's house, where he found -clothes and a good horse. He -was back in camp next day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so this was the wine," -said Chestnut; "and the man -and the maid are gone, and the -wine is still here. But the end -of the story?—what the girl -said in her note?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ask the wine," laughed -Hamilton, "or ask some good -woman. No man knows. We -shall find Mrs. Hamilton and -my daughters in the drawing-room. -They must be at home -by this time. You can ask them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With all my heart," said -Chestnut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is, if you have had -enough tobacco," added the host.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just one more glass from -the disputed bottle," said -Wilmington, rising with the rest, -and holding his glass between -his face and the lights. "As -our old table-customs seem to -interest you, Chestnut, I give -you a toast which I have drunk -now these fifty years. Once it -was a present joy; it is now but -a sad remembrance. Quite often -I say it to myself when I take -my last glass in company; and -always when I dine alone I say -it aloud, or it seems to say itself -of long habit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With these words, the spare -little, ruddy old gentleman -bowed in turn to each of his -fellow-guests, and last to his -host, and then said, with a -certain sad serenity of manner: -"Here is to each other,"—and -with a slight quaver in his -voice,—"and to one other."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With this they turned from the -table to follow Hamilton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John gravely divided the -mahogany doors opening into -the drawing-room, and as -Mr. Wilmington passed, murmured -under his breath, "Dat wine 's -a sherry, sar, sure 's ye 're born."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Uncle John," replied -Wilmington, "you are a great -man. Here is a dollar," and -slowly followed his host, -humming under his breath the old -drinking-song:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"The bottle 's the mistress I mean, I mean."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-little-more-burgundy"><span class="bold large">"A LITTLE MORE BURGUNDY"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The month of January, 1853, -had been as dreary as only a -midwinter bit of Paris weather -can be. The Christmas season -came and went, and left me -and my friend Pierce, two -friendless students, rather more -homesick than usual, and a little -indisposed to confess the malady, -or to talk of those we loved, -three thousand miles away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This special night of the 21st -of January I sat with William -Pierce in the second story of -an ancient hotel, which for -democratic convenience had -been labeled 47 Rue St. Andre -des Arts. The name of the -street—like others in the -pleasant, wicked old Latin -quarter—has some relation to the -scholastic history of the Sorbonne; -but who were the great folks -to whom, long ago, this gray -house belonged, I never knew. -It was, in my time, a hive of -students, and, standing </span><em class="italics">entre -cour et jardin</em><span>, had a fine air of -protesting against the meager -trades around it, and the base -uses to which it had come at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I never before, or since, lived -in so vast a room as this in -which I spent the most of 1853. -The lofty, half-domed ceiling -over us was still festive with the -tangled dance of nymphs and -shepherds who began their -revel when the naughty regent -was in power. I used to -wonder what strange and wicked -things they must have seen; -what quarrels, what loves, what -partings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tall windows, with balconies -set in lovely traceries of stone, -looked out on the street; on the -other side of the room a deep -alcove held my bed. Successive -economies had narrowed -the broad chimney throat to -limits penuriously proportioned -to the price of fuel; but two -pensive caryatides still upheld the -carved mantel-shelf, over which -drooped pendent rose-wreaths -of marble, pipe-stained, -wine-tinted, and chipped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was never warm in this -great chamber; but on the night -in question it was colder than -was comfortable even for the -warm blood of youth. Over -the meager nest of a grate we -two sat, striving to conjure up -a blaze from reluctant wood and -coal. And this was rather with -the hope that the fire might put -a soul of heat into our </span><em class="italics">boiullotte</em><span> -and so give us material for a -consolatory punch, than with -any vain belief that we could -ever be warmed again by what -the French nation has agreed -to consider a fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dismal, is n't it?" said Pierce.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," I returned, cheerfully, -because now the </span><em class="italics">bouillotte</em><span> -began, uneasily, to hop a little on -the coals, as if nervous, and to -puff and breathe out steam at -intervals. Seeing this, Pierce, -who was by nature a silent son -of New England, got up, with -no more words, and went over -to the far corner, and presently -said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now </span><em class="italics">dame</em><span> is French, and -has no harm in it, but is nearly -as satisfactory as if it did not -lack that final n, which makes -the difference between mere -Celtic impatience and English -verbal iniquity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The cognac is out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it?" I said. It was not -a great calamity, but it did seem -to add something to the sum -of our discomforts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have a little hot water?" -said my friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't," I returned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what shall we do? You -are pretty poor company -to-night. There is the Closerie -des Lilas, and Mabille, and the -Café des Drôles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I would none of them. I -sat with my head in my hands, -staring into the embers of the -fading fire. I was crying a man's -tears, thinking of the home -fireside at evening, three thousand -miles away. And if you think -a man cannot cry without the -shedding of material tears, life -has taught you little of -physiology; for this is the chief -difference between man and woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last Pierce rose up and -said French and English -profanities, and thought it no colder -out of doors than within; -therefore I put on my overcoat and -a fez cap—such as we wore in -those days—and followed him -down-stairs, across the -courtyard, and under its gray -escutcheon and armorial -bearings, and so into the outer air. -A band of noisy students was -passing out of the narrow Rue -des Grands Augustins, singing. -How often I have heard it, -and how it rings in my head -after these many long years!</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Par derrier' chez ma tante</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I'ya-t-un bois joli;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Le rossignol y chante</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Et le jour et la nuit.</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Gai lon la, gai le rosier</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Du joli mois de mai.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Across the way two little -maids in caps were filling their -tins from the steaming heap of -fried potatoes in the tiny shop -of my old acquaintance Madame Beaumain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We left the gayer streets and -soon were walking through the -maze of narrow avenues and -lanes long since destroyed to -make way for the wide -boulevards of the Second Empire. -We went along aimlessly, as -it seemed to me, until presently -Pierce stopped, exclaiming, -"Yes, it is here," and turned -from the Rue de l'Université -into the short </span><em class="italics">impasse</em><span> at its -further end. Here he paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," I said, "where next?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear M——," he said, -"I can't stand you alone any -longer. I 'm going to take you -to call on M. Des Illes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, M. Des Illes was an -acquaintance of a minute (to -be accurate, of five minutes), -and was nothing to me on earth -but a quaint remembrance. I -said I would go anywhere, call -on devil or angel, do as he -liked. As I made clear to him -the amiability of my indifferent -mood, he paused at the -doorway of No. 37.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this the place?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, 37 </span><em class="italics">bis</em><span>." Upon this -he rang, and the door opening -in the usual mysterious Paris -fashion, a concierge put out her -head at the side of the -passage, which seemed long and -narrow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is M. Des Illes at home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oui; tout en face, tout au -fond; Porte à gauche."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That 's droll," I said as we -walked on. The passage was -dimly lighted by a lantern hung -on the wall. We went on quite -three hundred feet, and came -out into a courtyard some thirty -feet by twice that length. The -walls were high around it, but -before us was a small hotel -with a rather elaborate front, -not easily made out by the -feeble glimmer of a lantern over -the door and another on the -wall. The main entrance was -a little to the left of the middle -of the house, which seemed to -be but one story high, and over -this a Mansard roof.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Interesting, is n't it?" said Pierce.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very," said I, as I rang. -The door was opened at once, -and we were in a hall some -twenty feet square, beautifully -lit with wax candles in the most -charming of silver sconces. -There were a few arms on the -walls, and a portrait of a girl in -a red gown and hoops. The -servant who admitted us was in -black from head to foot—a -very tall man with an immense—an -unusual nose, very red -cheeks, and enormous ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I said, "M. Des Illes is at -home?" and he, "Monsieur -would oblige with the names, -and this way, please." We -gave him our cards and went -after him. He warned us of a -step, and of another, and we -came into a little antechamber, -where we were pleasantly bid -to be seated. He came back at -once, followed by the strangest -little old gentleman imaginable. -I said, "M. Des Illes, I -believe?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," he cried. "It cannot -be that I am deceived. It is -Monsieur, my preserver. What -a happiness to see you here!" -and upon this, to my great -embarrassment, he kissed me -upon both cheeks, while Pierce -grinned at me maliciously over -his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a small matter," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To you, no doubt; but not -to me. Life is never a small -possession to him that owns it. I -have friends with me to-night -who will feel it to be more than -an honor to welcome you. -M. Michel and M. Pierce, you -said, I think. This is a most -fortunate hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I said all the effusively -pleasant things I could think of, -while his servant relieved me -of my overcoat. As Pierce was -being aided in like manner I -had a good look at my host, and -made up my mind that he was -probably dressed for a fancy ball. -He was clearly a quite old man, -curiously slight in person, and -having almost the delicacy of -features of a woman. Also he -was clean shaven, wore his hair -in a cue tied with black ribbon, -and was clad in black silk or -satin, with jet buttons, a long -waistcoat, a full lace jabot, -knee-breeches, black silk stockings, -court shoes, and black jet -buckles. With some puzzle of -mind I concluded it to be a -mourning suit of the last -century, queer to see at this time -and in this place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we crossed the antechamber -M. Des Illes fluttered about -us, gesticulating and talking -with vehemence of his great -debt to me, who thought it -small and embarrassingly made -too much of. I have laid away -somewhere among my mental -negatives a picture of the room -into which we went, following -our host. There were many -candles in sconces, tables and -chairs of Louis XV.'s time, and -one cabinet of wonderful inlaid -work filled with silver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two persons rose as we -entered. To my surprise, I saw -that they also were dressed in -black of the same fashion as that -worn by my host. All had -cues, and, like M. Des Illes, -wore swords with black sheaths. -One of these gentlemen might -have been forty years old, but the -other, like my host, was a man -far on in life and certainly not -much under seventy years. As -I stood a moment in the -doorway, the two, who were playing -piquet, rose, and M. Des Illes, -going in before us, turned and -said as we entered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have great pleasure to -present to you M. Michel, my -preserver, of whom I have -already told. It is he who has -with heroism dragged me from -before a swift-coming horse. -He with modesty refused me -his address. His name I shall -forever cherish. Permit me, -Duke, to present M. Michel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I named my friend, who was -introduced. Then we were let -to know that the older man, -who was stout and well built, -and who seemed of M. Des -Illes's years, was the Duke de -St. Maur. He in turn -presented to us the youngest of -these quaintly clad people, his -son, M. de St. Maur. When -these gentlemen bowed, for -neither did more, they took up -much of the room, and in the -space left to us—such courtesy -being contagious—Pierce and -I achieved quite as remarkable -salutes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This ceremony over, we were -seated, and the tale of M. Des -Illes's rescue having been told -once more at too great length, -the Duke rose, and, taking my -hand, desired me to understand -that I had conferred upon him a -favor which I must have known -M. Des Illes as long as he to -understand. When his son had -stated that none could better -what his father had said, he -added, "May it please God, -Monsieur, that you never need -a friend; and may his -providence never leave you without -one as good as you yourself have -proved to be." I replied in -fluent but unequal French, and -began to have the keenest desire -to know what the mischief all -this masquerade might mean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I soon observed that the -politics of the day were out -of the talk. When, indeed, we -were speaking of pictures, and -Pierce mentioned a portrait of -the Prince President in the -Salon, a manner of chill seemed -to fall upon the party, while the -Duke said with a certain -gentle decisiveness, "You, who are -our guests this evening, and -will share it with us—may I -say for my friend and myself -that the person mentioned -should never get so far into -good society as to be talked -of by gentlemen—at least not -to-night—not to-night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said St. Maur; "not to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierce spoke quickly, "You -will pardon us, Duke."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke lifted a remonstrating -hand. "It is not needed," -he said. "And have you seen -the great landscape by Diaz? -I have the pendant; but now -his prices have gone up, and we -poor gentlefolk, alas!" Here -he took snuff, and M. de -St. Maur remarked with a smile, -"My good father is never so -near extravagance as when he -talks of his poverty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is shrewd, the young -man, and of distressing -economy—a quite modern -economy. I bought it to-day." Our -laughter set the chat on a less -formal footing, and we fell to -talking of theaters, actresses, -the latest play, and the like, -until at last M. Des Illes said. -"Pardon, my dear Duke, but the -hour is near when we must go -down to the cellar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile no one had -explained the costumes which -appeared to have power to recall -into active life the forms of -manners with which they seemed to -consist so well, the grave -courtesies of an hour more patient -than that in which we live. -"We are at your service," -said the Duke, rising. "Our -friends must feel by this time -as if they were calling on actors -behind the scenes at the Odeon. -Is it not so?" he added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps," I returned. "But -the wise who are well entertained -do not ask the name of the inn; -at least so they say in Spain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur has found for us -a delightful apology," said -M. de St. Maur. "Let us leave -him to guess our sad riddle; -and now, the lanterns."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he spoke, M. Des Illes -came from a closet with -lanterns and straw wine-baskets, -of which he gave one to each -of us. Then the candles in -the lanterns were lighted, while -Pierce and I, profoundly -curious, said nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pity," exclaimed the -younger St. Maur, "that our -friends' modern dress should -interpolate a note of to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can only regret," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is but a wicked little -remark, that," returned the Duke. -"My son is of to-day, Monsieur. -For him this is a masquerade, -interesting, droll. But for us, -</span><em class="italics">mon Dieu</em><span>! It is——."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is," returned Des -Illes gravely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon, Duke," said the -son, smiling. "Once all these -things lived for you and for -our friend; but as to me—I -have only the memory of another's memory."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neatly put!" cried Des -Illes. "Almost a </span><em class="italics">mot</em><span>; as near -as men get to it in these -degenerate days. Well, well, if -wit be dead, wine is not. Let -us go now among the old -memories of which your son -speaks. Come, gentlemen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With these words we went -with him through a back room, -and thence by a window into -a garden. In the uncertain -moonlight I saw that it was -large, with great walls about -it, and the appearance beyond -these of tall, leafless trees. We -passed a frozen basin and the -figure of a dryad, and went -after our host into a house for -plants, now to appearance -disused. At a far corner he lifted -a trap-door and went before us -down a stone stair to a -wine-cellar such as is common in -good French houses. Here -were bottles and barrels of </span><em class="italics">vin -ordinaire</em><span> for common use. I -began to feel an increase of -interest when, near the far end -of this cellar, M. Des Illes set -down his lantern, unlocked a -padlock, and, aided by St. Maur, -lifted a larger trap-door. -With a word of care as to the -steps, he showed us the way -down a broad stone stairway, -and in a minute we were all -standing on the rock floor of a -great room underground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we saw the Duke and his -companions hang their lanterns -on hooks set in the wall, we -did as they had done, and, -placing our wine-baskets on casks, -began to get used to the cross -lights of the lanterns and to -look around us. The space -seemed to be some thirty feet -long and perhaps as much as -fifteen feet wide. It was cut -out of the soft lime-rock which -underlies Paris. Perhaps a -dozen casks of wine, on racks, -were set along one side of the -cave, and over them, on stone -shelves excavated in the walls, -were hundreds of bottles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be careful of the cobwebs," -said Des Illes, and there was -need to be. They hung from -above in black curtains and -in coarse openwork of tangled -ropes. They lay over the -bottles and across the casks, -wonderful for amount and for their -dark hue. The spinners of this -funereal broidery I could -nowhere see. It was the work -of generations of arachnidean -artists long dead; or else those -who lived were hiding, scared, -amidst these great pendent -festoons. I wondered how the -net-makers had lived, for flies -there were none, and no other -insect life so far as I could see. -After this brief survey I -observed that the air was cool, -and so dry that it was hardly -felt to be uncomfortable. The -three gentlemen were moving -to and fro, exchanging phrases -apparently about the wine, and -as I joined their little group it -became clear that a selection -was being made.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There will be one bottle of -the year," said the Duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, of the year," repeated -our host.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Might I ask of what year?" -said Pierce.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of 1793," replied St. Maur; -"the fatal year. Permit me"; -and he held the basket -wine-cradle while the Duke put on -his glasses, and, turning the -lantern-light on to a shelf, said: -"There are but twelve left."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Enough for us, friend," said -Des Illes, lifting a bottle. "It -has the black ribbon on the -neck, but the spiders have so -covered everything as with a -pall, that it was hard to be -sure." With this, he turned to me. "It -has a black ribbon, you perceive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It has," I said, rather puzzled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now, my friends, choose -as you will, you cannot go far -wrong. The sun of many -summers is locked up in these bottles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wall take Chambertin," -said the Duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I, Pomard," said his son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I," said Des Illes, -"Romanée Conti. But all here -are in the peerage of wines."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, when each of this -curious company had made his -choice, our host said to us:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will be best that I choose -for you. There is already -enough of Burgundy to trouble -some toes to-morrow. Shall we -say Bordeaux? Here are two of -long descent, and one is a -comet-wine—of a name long -lost—and one is Laffitte, and both -are in good order; neither is -less than thirty years old. In -this changeless atmosphere our -great wines are long-lived. Have -a care not to disturb the wines -as we go up the stairs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall carry them with -care," I replied, laughing, -"until we have swallowed them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then without care, I -trust," cried the younger -St. Maur. "Let us go; it is chilly here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A moment," said the Duke. -"M. Michel will desire to know -why all this costuming, and the -bottles in mourning, and this -ancient cellar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True," I returned. "I was -about to ask."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well," said Des Illes. -"A few words here, where they -will have the more interest, and -then let us mount, and end the -tale with such memories as -these good wines may suggest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This way," said the Duke -to me. "Let me show you -something." I followed him to -the end of the cellar, where, to -my surprise, I saw by the light -of his lantern a door heavily -built and guarded by a bar of -wood. This he lifted, and as -he opened the door, and we -gazed into the deep darkness -beyond, he said: "I show you -a passageway into the -catacombs of Paris, of which this -cave must have been a part -until built off to be made a cellar -somewhere in the reign of Louis -XV. And stay. Look at this"; -and, turning aside, he showed -me, as it lay on a cask, a -cobwebbed bit of something.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A woman's glove—and it -has been here since 1794."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The rest were better told -in a less somber place," said -St. Maur. "Let us go." Upon -this we went up the stairs and -out into the air. As we crossed -through the barren shrubbery, -each with his lantern and a -little basket of wine, I thought -that probably Paris could show -no stranger sight than this -sunken garden-space dark with -box, the gentlemen in their -dress of another time, and we -two Yankees wondering what -it all meant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When at length we reentered -M. Des Illes's drawing-room a -brighter fire was on the hearth -than is common in France. -About it M. Des Illes set with -care, in their cradles, the -half-dozen bottles we had fetched -from the cellar. I ventured to -say that it would be long before -they were warm enough to -drink; but the Duke said that -was quite a modern notion, and -that he liked to warm his wine -on the tongue. It seemed to -me odd; but I am told it was -once thought the thing to have -red wines of the temperature of -the cellar. When the wine was -set at a correct distance from -the fire, and the blaze heartened -a little with added fuel, M. Des -Illes excused himself, and, -returning after some twenty -minutes, explained that he had been -arranging a dressing for the -salad, but that it would be an -hour before supper could be -made ready.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That," I said, "will give us -full leisure to ask some questions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Pardie!</em><span>" said St. Maur. -"Had I been you, by this -time I should have asked -fifty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No doubt," laughed his -father; and then, turning to -us, "Usually when we dress as -you see, we are alone—Des -Illes and I at least—men of a -forgotten past. But to-night -friendly chance has sent you -here, and it were but courteous -that we explain what may seem -absurd. M. Des Illes will tell -you the story."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is many years since -I heard it," said St. Maur. "I -shall be well pleased to hear it -once more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it is long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Fi donc</em><span>, my friend. The -wine will be the better for -waiting," said the Duke; "and, -after all, some one must tell -these gentlemen. As for me, -I should spoil a good story."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Pierce and I said how -delighted we should be to -listen, but indeed we little knew -how strange a tale we were to hear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It shall be as the Duke -likes," said M. Des Illes. "Let -us move nearer to the fireside. -It is chilly, I think." Upon -this we drew to the fire. Our -host added a small fagot of -tender twigs, so that a brief -blaze went up and lit the dark -velvets and jet buttons of the -company.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will all have heard it," -said Des Illes; "but it is as -you desire. It will be new to -our friends."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And surely strange," said -the Duke's son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My memory may prove -short, Duke. If I fail, you will -kindly aid me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, my friend, neither your -wine nor your memory has -failed. But make haste, or -your supper will be spoiled -while we await a tale which is -slow in coming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The things I shall speak of -took place in the month of -July, 1794. Alas! this being -now 1853, I was in those days -close to eleven years of age. -My good Duke, here, was -himself some two years younger. -My father had been purveyor -of wines to the Court, as his -father had been, and I may -say, too, that we were -broken-down nobles who liked better -this way of earning a meal than -by clinging to the skirts of -more lucky men of no better -blood than we.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There had been in the far -past some kindly relation -between my Duke's people and -my own, and how it came about -I know not, but my -grandmother, when the old Duchess -died, would have it she must -nurse the little Duke, and hence -between him, as he grew up, -and my father was the -resemblance often seen between -brothers of one milk. We were -all of us, my mother and father -and I, living in this house when -my story begins, and although -in secret we were good servants -of the King, we were quietly -protected by certain Jacobins -who loved good wine. In fact, -we did very well and kept our -heads from Madame Guillotine, -and from suspicion of being -enemies of the country, until -the sad thing chanced of which -I am made to tell the history.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the spring of 1793 the -Duke, my father's foster-brother, -came one day from the -country in disguise, and with -him this same Duke Henri you -see here to-day. I do not now -know precisely what had taken -place, but I believe the Duke -was deep in some vain plots to -save the Queen, and wished -to be free for a time from the -care of his boy. At all events, -Duke Henri, a very little -fellow, was left with us and -became our cousin from Provence. -He had a great opinion of his -dignity, this dear Duke, in those -days, and was like enough to -get us all into trouble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Early in July 1794 my father -was much disturbed in mind. -I often saw him at night -carrying things into the plant-house, -where my mother nursed a few -pots of flowers. There was -cause, indeed, to trouble any -one, what with the merciless -guillotine and the massacres. -As for us, too, we knew pretty -well that at last we were -becoming "suspects."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One evening—it was the -19th of July—my father was -away nearly all day, a thing -for him quite out of the -common. About dusk he came -home, and after a few words -in haste to my mother called -us to help him. On this we -were set to work carrying -bottles of milk, cheese, bread, and -cold meats in baskets to the -plant-house, where my father -took them from us. Then we -went back and forth with -blankets, pillows, and more -things than I can now recall. -After this, it being night, we -were told to wait in the house, -but no explanation was given -us as to what these unusual -preparations meant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was this house, this same -house," said Duke Henri; -"when we had done all that -was required of us we sat within -doors, wondering what it was for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The next day, being July -20th about noon, we boys were -playing in the garden when I -saw my mother come through -the window, and heard her cry -out: 'It is ruin, it is ruin; -my God, it is ruin!' A moment -after came my father with -the Duke de St. Maur—Duke -Philip, of course. The Duke -was speaking vehemently as we -boys ran to hear. 'I came to -say that I am going to -England. I have not a moment. -I fear I may have been -followed. I grieve to have fetched -this trouble upon you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My mother was vexed -indeed, and spoke angrily; but my -father said, 'No; trouble has -been close for days, and the -house is watched. For me, -there need be no real fear. I -have friends, and should be set -free quickly, but the Duke!—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the end they would not -let Duke Philip go, and urged -that now it would bring about a -greater peril for all of us if he -were caught going out or were -seen to come forth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'There is a better way,' cried -my father. 'Quick! Let us all -go down to the lower cave.' The -Duke remonstrated, but -was cut short, for my father said, -'If you have compromised us, -I must judge now what is best.' And -so the Duke gave in, and -we were all hurried into the -plant-house and down the stairs -to the first cellar, where were -many of the things so long made -ready. My father opened the -larger trap, and began with -great haste to carry down, with -our help, all he had left in the -cellar above. Every one aided, -and it was no sooner done than -we heard a noise in the house, -or beyond it. 'The officers!' -said my father. 'Now you are -all safe, and I shall soon come for you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He stood a moment, seeming -to hesitate, while my mother -and the Duke prayed him to -come down and close the trap; -but at last he said, 'No; it were -better my way,' and shut down -the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I heard a great clatter of -barrel-staves falling on the trap. -I think he had seen the need -to take this precaution, and it -was this made him run for us -and for his friend a perilous -risk; his fear, I mean, that -unless hidden, the trap would -easily be seen by any one who -chanced to enter the upper -cellar. I should have said that -my father lifted the trap a little -and cried, 'The good God help -thee, Claire!' Then we were -at once in darkness, and again -the staves were replaced, as one -could easily hear. I heard my -mother sob, but the one-year-old -baby she carried screamed -loudly, and this, I think, took up -her attention for a time. I was -on the stone staircase when my -father went by me saying, 'Be -good to thy mother.' I sat still -awhile, and, the baby ceasing -to cry, we remained thus for a -time silent in this appalling -darkness, like hunted things, with -the terror of the time upon us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a sad story, dear Duke. -I wonder how you can wish to -hear it again. And will my -young friend draw the corks of -these bottles, and be careful not -to shake the wine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>St. Maur, saying, "With pleasure, -yes," went on to draw the corks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a bouquet has that -Chambertin!" said the Duke. -"But go on, my friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In a moment or so my -mother exclaimed: 'There is -something wrong. I must go -and see. My husband was to -come with us. It has long been -so arranged.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With great difficulty the -Duke persuaded her to run no -farther risk. 'If,' he said, 'your -husband has been arrested, you -can do no good. If he has not, -we shall soon hear, and I, myself, will -seek to learn where he is.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This quieted her for a little -while, and we sat still in the -darkness, which seemed to grow -deeper. I think it must have -been an hour before any one -spoke, but at times I could hear -my mother sob. At last the -baby woke up again and made -doleful cries, so that the Duke -said—and his was the first -voice to break the long silence: -'Is there a way to make a -light? It may quiet him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My mother said, 'Yes'; and -after groping about we found -flint and steel, and presently, -with a little care, there was a -bit of flame and a candle lit. I -declare to you, it made things -look the more dismal. Later it -caused us all to feel a strange -and causeless elation. My -mother, who was a resolute -woman, began to walk about, and -the baby, having been given -milk, grew quiet. We boys -were set to work arranging the -mattresses and blankets and all -the material my father had by -degrees made ready for this -hour of need. There was food -enough for a stay of many days, -and as to wine, there was of that -an abundance, and also a barrel -of good water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After our brief task was over -we two little fellows sat most of -that long first day beside each -other, rarely opening our lips. -My mother lay on a mattress, -trying to keep the babe quiet, -for he used his lungs -dangerously well. The Duke walked -to and fro restlessly, and by -and by carefully put his pistols -in order and laid them on a -cask. After some hours he -became more tranquil and even -gay, and kept us all sustained by -his gentle goodness and sweet -temper, laughing at our fears, -recalling to my mother what -hopeful words my father had -used, and at last almost -making her sure that no one would -hurt so good a man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When the Duke looked at -his jeweled watch, which had -been used to number more -pleasant hours, he told us it was -night, and nine o'clock. My -mother said prayers, and the -candle having been put out, -we all lay down and slept as -we could. I must have slept -well, for it was nine in the -morning when I awakened, and I, -for one, had to think a little to -recover my orientation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In this dismal fashion we -passed two days. Then, on the -third, about noon, as we had -heard no noise above us, the -Duke and my mother thought -we might look out to see if any -one were about. This, as I shall -tell you, proved a sad business, -and had like to have caused our -ruin. But of this later.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Duke went up the stair, -and with difficulty lifted the -trapdoor so as to see a little. As no -one was in sight, he heaved off the -staves my father had cast down, -and at last got himself out into -the upper cellar. Then he -went thence into the plant-house -and garden, and at last boldly -entered the house, in which was -no one, as it had been closed, -and, as we learned long after, -the seal of the Republic put on -the door. In a half hour the -Duke returned and took me -back into the house, whence we -carried a number of things -much needed in our cave, such -as more candles, and a blanket -or two, although this was chiefly -for precaution, since the cellar -was never cold, nor, as I think -of it, damp. We hurried back, -and as we did so I asked the -Duke about my father. But -neither he nor my mother could -tell why he had been arrested, -as he had managed to keep -in good relations with some of -the Jacobins. It was quite -common to hear of the head of a -house being arrested, and then, -within a day or two, of the -women being likewise hurried -to the common fate which -awaited all suspects. The Duke -seemed to think my father might -have had some such fear for us, -and desired to put us all in -safety, although how in the end -this could be of use did not -seem very clear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When we all got back to the -cave and had shut the trap, I -sat a long while much -oppressed in my small mind; but -so, too, were our elders, I fear. -As to this my Duke here, he -cried a little, but not so that -any one knew but myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In this way four miserable -days and nights went by, and, -thus imprisoned, we knew not -what to do. We had waited -long, hopeful of my father's -return, and, </span><em class="italics">mon Dieu!</em><span> he came -not at all. The Duke was for -going forth again at night and -some way escaping alone, -fearing that to be caught in our -company might more surely -bring us into trouble when at -last we should be forced, soon -or late, to come out to the light. -Meanwhile, this blackness, for -it was not mere darkness, -became more terrible than I can -make any one comprehend. As -I remember, there were long -talks of what to do, with vain -endings, and, in between, great, -awful silences."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I used to get frightened -then," said the Duke, looking -up from the fire. "One seemed -so absolutely alone. I used to -resist for a time, and at last put -out a hand to take hold of your -mother's skirt for company. -Once or twice the poor baby -screamed so loud that he had -to be kept quiet by a little </span><em class="italics">eau -de vie</em><span>, lest some one coming -overhead should hear; for, -indeed, in this vault his cries -seemed like shouts, and one -heard better because one could -not see. Do you remember -that, Des Illes? But I used to -wish that baby would cry all day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do I remember? Yes, -indeed. Those were not days or -things to be easily forgotten. -But to go on. The fifth day, -when we were all of us becoming -distracted, a thing took place -which settled some of our doubts. -It may have been about six -o'clock in the evening when we -heard faint noises in the upper -cellar. The Duke was first, I -think, to notice them; then a -footfall passed over the trap, -and this was only too plain. The -Duke caught my arm and said -quietly, 'Come here,' and so -saying, drew me to the foot of the -stone stairs. This was about, as -you know, ten feet high. I could -see nothing, but I heard his step -as he went up. Then he said, -'Here is a pistol. Be ready to -hand it to me—so—so; do not -let the powder fall from the pan. -I have one pistol. If there are -two men and you are quick, -these will suffice. If there are -three men, we are lost.' It was -dark as I stood, for we never -used candles save when we ate, -and to quiet the baby. I -reflected quickly that, as the Duke -could not have put back the -staves, they who were -searching must easily find the trap; -and so it was, for just as he -said softly, 'Keep still every -one,' the trap was lifted a little -and a ray of blinding candle-light -shot through the narrow space. -For a moment I could see -nothing because of the glare. Then -the trap was carefully raised still -higher, and we saw the figure -of a kneeling man sustaining -the door with his left hand. In -the other he held a lantern and -a canvas bag. Luckily for us -all, the Duke was a person of -calm courage. He had seen -that the stranger was not an -agent of police. 'If you move, -you are dead,' he cried, and -the muzzle of a pistol on the -man's breast made him for the -time motionless, and perhaps -quickened his wits, for he -exclaimed: 'Great heavens! I am -not a municipal. God forbid. I -am only a thief. Be merciful, sir. -I entered the house by a -window, and now the officers have -come in by a door and I shall -be guillotined as an aristocrat.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'A pretty tale; I have half -a mind to kill you,' said the Duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Pray the Lord keep the -other half!' cried the thief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Upon this I heard my mother -exclaim: 'No, no; let him come down.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'If you fire, I shall be dead, -but your pistol will call these -scoundrels. I have stolen only -this bag of gold. Take it, sir. -So saying, he let it fall on the -head of this our Duke Henri, -who, having crept near to listen, -set up a dismal howl, because -of the weight of a hundred gold louis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I heard the Duke, his father, -call out, 'Idiot, hold your -tongue! The animal is right. -Come down, you rascal. I -would not deny the foul fiend -a refuge from these villains.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Sir, you will never regret -this good deed,' said the thief, -and instantly two long legs -were through the opening, as I -stepped down to make way for -our new lodger. The Duke was -about to close the trap when -the thief said, 'Permit me, sir,' -and set about cleverly arranging -the staves on the half-closed -trap-door, in order that, as he -let it fall, they might cover it -at least in part.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After this he descended, -and, bowing in an awkward -way, said, 'I am your humble -servant, Madam'; and to the -Duke, 'You have saved my -life. It is a cheap article -nowadays, but still—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Enough, master thief; here -am I, the Duke de St. Maur, and -Madame, my friend's wife, and -the baby, and these boys. Put out -your lantern. God knows when -we shall get out, or how this -adventure will end; but, until it is -over, you are a stranger within -our gates, and we will feed you -while our food lasts.' It seemed -to me queer to be so near to a -thief, but I heard my mother say -something, and some one -muttered an 'Ave'; it might have -been the thief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After a little, the Duke -asked him a question as to how -he entered our house, and then -my mother inquired if he had -seen my father. He seemed a -merry fellow, our thief, and so -well pleased to be cared for -and let live that by and by he -laughed outright until the Duke -bade him have a care. Nor was -this at all a needless caution, -because the next day, quite -early on the sixth morning, we -could too easily hear feet above -us on the floor of the -wine-vault. I heard the Duke's -'Hist!' and we were all as still -as mice, except that the Duke, -as before, gave me a pistol and -went up the ladder to be ready. -I, following him, waited a little -further down. It must have been -that they were making free with -the wine, because some of it was -spilled and ran through the trap -and down my neck. It quite -scared me, but in peril and in -darkness a little thing will do -that. One man fell over the -staves, but, as the Duke told -us later, he swore as if hurt, and -so, I fancy, did not chance to -see our trap-door. All day long -we prayed and listened and -watched. When, at nightfall, all -sounds were over, we resolved -that the Duke should take a -look outside, not knowing what -to do or how otherwheres to -find an exit we might think to use."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then," said the Duke to -Des Illes, as he paused in his story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah me! and then,—you remember."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember? I shall never -forget it,—the trap could not -be moved! When this dreadful -thing was discovered, both -our thief and the Duke got up -high on the ladder, and, with -heads on one side and heaving -with their shoulders, failed to -open it. It was quite in vain. -The thief, as usual, took a gay -view of the situation. They have, -said he, rolled a cask of wine on to -the trap. They will drink it up, -or steal it by the gallon, and when -the cask is lighter we can heave -it off, or—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Thou art a merry sinner,' said -the Duke, and even my mother -laughed, and we boys. The gay -noise came back dismally, thus -bottled up in the narrow vault. -But when we began to reflect, -we knew that we were buried -alive. Our thief had no end -of schemes. We would bore -through the door with an auger, -and then bore into the barrel -and let the wine run out. 'But -we have no auger,' said the -Duke, 'and the door is covered -with sheet-iron.' 'No matter, -he would think; if he walked, -he could think better,' and so -he moved to and fro awhile in -search of wisdom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By this time, because our -young stomachs began to cry -out, we lit a candle, and my -mother gave us all our portions, -while I sat on the ladder top so -as to hear if any one came. For -a little while we were strangely -cheerful, and this I saw happen -whenever we lit up our vault. -The baby smiled, and we moved -about and made believe it was -a small matter, after all. As for -our thief, he was a treasure of -queer stories, and you could not -help but laugh, even if you -were desolate the minute after.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our thief had made ready -his lantern, and, as I said, began -to prowl about into corners, and -at last stumbled over our Duke's legs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'</span><em class="italics">Diable!</em><span>' cried the Duke. -'Put out your light; we have few -enough candles; and keep quiet, -too. You are as uneasy as a cat -of the streets.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'And I am but a street cat, -Monsieur, and have wisdom -enough to know that the lazy -eat no mice.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I don't see how your stumbling -about this cellar will help -us or you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Who knows, Monsieur? -When you are in a scrape it is -never well to keep quiet. I have -been in many, and worse than -this—perils by sea and land, -and rope—I always get out, -but—Ah me, to forget them is -not easy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Rope!' said the Duke. 'Indeed—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Yes; they hang a fellow for -so little, nowadays. You will -permit, Duke, that I change the -conversation; I avoid it usually. -Indeed, I am careful not to tie -my cravat too tight; it gives one -a turn sometimes—a sort of -prophetic hint.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'You are a droll devil,' -laughed the Duke, 'and not bad -company—where you can't run -away with a purse. Do as you like.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Thanks, Monsieur,' said the -thief, and with no more words -resumed a careful search, as it -seemed to me, after nothing. -Indeed, we young fellows laughed -as he looked under and back of -the casks. 'It is good to laugh,' -he said, as we followed him -about; 'but in my business, when -there is no profit to be had, it is -well to cultivate one's powers of -observation.' After a while we -tired of following him, and sat -down; but he continued his -search among the cobwebs—of -which, trust me, there were -enough even in those days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At last I saw him mount -on top of some empty barrels -at the far end of the cave. -Unable to see behind them, he -lowered his lantern between the -casks and the wall of the cellar, -and looked. Of a sudden he -scrambled down and cried, -waving his lantern: 'A thief for -luck! A thief for luck!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'What! what!' exclaimed -the Duke, rising. As to the thief, -he knelt down at my mother's -feet and said, looking in her -face: 'Madame, God has sent -you this thief to show you a way -out of this grave.' My mother -caught his arm and cried, 'Let -this jesting cease.' He answered, -'I do not jest,' and we all leaped -up and came to where he knelt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'What is this?' said the -Duke; on which our thief turned -to the end of the vault and quite -easily spun aside two of the casks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Look!' he said. To our -surprise, there were several boards -set against the wall, and between -their joinings came a current of -air which flared a candle-flame. -'There is a space beyond,' said -the Duke. 'Is it the catacombs? -And was this vault a part? See -the masonry here, and over it -these boards nailed fast into the -cracks.' 'Horrible!' cried my -poor mother. I had heard that -all of the contents of the -Cemetery of the Innocents had been -tumbled into some of the openings -of these catacombs. '</span><em class="italics">Mon -Dieu</em><span>,' I cried; 'they are full of -the dead!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'It is the live rascals I care -not to meet,' laughed the thief; -'as for the dead, they are dead. -All their wants are supplied. -They neither steal nor kill—and -there are ways out—ways -out—I am sure.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Pray God, my good thief, -that it may be as you say,' said -my mother; 'but </span><em class="italics">mon Dieu!</em><span> one -may wander far, they say, in -these old quarries.' 'Let us -see,' said the thief, and with a -strong hand he tore away board -after board, the rusted nails -breaking and the rotten wood -falling at his feet. There, -before him and us, was a great, -dark gap in the wall. Our thief -held his lantern within it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I see little; there is a -descent. I must go and find out.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Oh, be careful! You may -fall—may die,' said my mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'You have said that, Madame, -which would send me smiling -on a worse errand. Since I was -of this lad's bigness, no one has -so much as cared if I lived or -died. I was a mere dog of the -streets whom all men kicked.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Poor fellow,' said my -mother. 'We are alike of the -company of misfortune, and -perhaps from this day you may -forever turn from evil.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Let us waste no more time,' -said the Duke; 'but have a -care, or we shall lose you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'If he had a long string -which he might unroll,' said I. -'I saw that in a book.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Good,' said the Duke, 'if -we had it; but we have not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'But we have,' said the -thief. 'Here is Madame's -knitting-ball. The lad shall hold -the end, and I shall be the fish -at the other end, and unroll it -as I go.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Upon this, I, very proud, -was given the end to hold, and -our thief took his lantern and -went on, we watching him until -the light was lost because of his -turning a corner. He might have -been gone half an hour when -he came back. My mother said -to him: 'We feared for you. -And now, what is your name? -For if out of jest we have called -you Mr. Thief, that is not to -be done any more.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Upon this he said his name -was François, and that in the -catacombs he had gotten into -a labyrinth of wet passages and -seen no light anywhere. -'Indeed,' he said, 'if we venture in -and lose power to come back -whither we started, we may -never get out alive. What with -the bewilderment of many -crossings, underground ways, and -the armies of rats, it is a mad -resort.' This notion of the rats, -I confess, made me quail. So -the end of it was that our new -hope became but a new despair. -</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu</em><span>! 'T is a long tale."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Both Pierce and I declared -our interest, which was in truth -real, and he went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The coming of the seventh -day still found us reasonably -well provisioned, and our elders -discussing ways of escape, but -finding none available. About -noon of this day occurred an -event which put an end to these -discussions. All the morning -there had been noises overhead, -and we were kept in continual -alarm. At last they were heard -just over the trap, and we -began to hope they were moving -the cask. This, indeed, was -the case. They made a great -racket. To us underneath, the -sounds above were such as to -make us wonder what they -could be doing. I suppose it was -all caused by rolling the full -barrels about to get at the -bungs. After a while it ceased; -but in an hour or so the Duke -cried: 'On guard! Be ready! -Quick, my other pistol!' As -he stood he had now one in -each hand. Instantly the trap -was pulled up without hesitation -or caution. There were several -lighted candles standing on the -barrels, and thus I saw, -stooping over the opening, lantern -in hand, a big municipal guard. -Instantly there was the flash -and roar of the Duke's pistol, -and the huge brute, with a cry, -pitched head down into the open -trap. He rolled off the Duke's -shoulder, and as he tumbled over -on to me, I half fell, half leaped, -and he came down with an -awful crash, his head striking the -floor of stone. As he fell the -thief threw himself upon him. -My mother cried, '</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span>' There -was a pause—when the -thief called out, 'He is dead.' As -he spoke I ran up the stone -stair, too curious to be afraid, and -peeped under the Duke's left -arm. The smoke was thick, and -I saw nothing for a moment. -Then a second officer ran down -the stone steps of the upper -cellar and drew a pistol. He -had a large lantern, and as he -turned it on us the Duke fired. -I saw the man's right arm sink -and the pistol drop; and now -a strange thing happened. For -a moment the man stood -leaning back against a great cask. -The hand in which he clutched -the lantern shook violently as -with a spasm. '</span><em class="italics">Diable</em><span>! That -is strange,' cried the Duke. As -I stood beside him in fear and -wonder, the wounded officer -swayed to the left, and I heard a -gurgling noise and saw rush out -under the man's arm a great -gush of red fluid—as it seemed -to me blood. Then of a sudden -the man doubled up and came -down in a heap on the floor. -I heard him groan piteously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cried the Duke, 'Stay there.' This -was to me. 'Be still, all -of you.' Indeed, I had no mind -to move; one dead man above -and one below were guards -enough. The Duke went by the -municipal without more than a -look, saying, as he set foot on -the upper stair, 'I have shot -that man and the wine-barrel -too. </span><em class="italics">Sacré bleu</em><span>, what a waste!' So -it was good Bordeaux, and -not blood. This reassured me. -In a minute more I heard the -Duke say cheerfully: 'All goes -well. A lantern, quick! There -is no one else.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our thief was ready in a -moment, and the two, with my -small person in the rear, turned -to consider the Jacobin. 'Dead, -I think,' said the Duke. 'And -if not, it were wise to attend to -his case,' said our thief. 'No, -no,' I heard my mother cry from -the top of the staircase; 'we -will have no more bloodshed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neither Duke nor thief said -anything in reply, but laid the -man in as easy a posture as -could be found for one with -an ounce of lead clean through -him. After this they went down -to look at the other officer. -He was past doubt, and dead -enough. 'And now,' said the -Duke, 'even if we bury these -two, which Madame makes -impossible, other devils will infest -the house, and in a few hours we -shall be one and all lost to hope.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'There are the catacombs,' -said the thief, 'and nothing else. -The sooner we leave, the better -our chances. No one will -follow us, Monsieur.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'But shall we ever get out -of these caves?' said my mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'To stay is certain death,' -returned Duke Philip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'And to fly by that great -opening uncertain death,' said -the thief. 'I like better the uncertain.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'We will go,' said my mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Upon this the Duke bade us -carry the utmost loads of wine -and eatables we could support. -The thief packed baskets, and -strung bottles of wine and milk -on cords so as to let them hang -from our shoulders. Each had -also a blanket, and we were thus -pretty heavily loaded, but the -thief carried nearly as much -as all the rest together. The -Duke sat down a little while to -reload his own arms and those -taken from the dead guard, and -soon we followed one another -through the great black hole -in mournful procession. With -one dim lantern flashing cones -of light here and there on the -dripping, moldy walls, we went -down a slope and along a -tunnel not broad enough for -two to walk abreast. At the first -halt I saw my mother whisper -to Duke Philip, and soon after -he gave to our thief the sword -and pistol of the dead guard. -Before and behind us was -darkness. We may have gone two -hundred yards, the Duke urging -haste, when we came to a sharp -turn in the tunnel, and stopped -as if of one accord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Duke cried, 'Forward! -March, boys! A fine adventure, -is n't it?' His cheerfulness put -spirit into us all, and even the -baby gave a little laugh, as if -pleased; but why babies laugh -no man knows, nor woman -either. As for the Duke, he nor -we had the least idea of where -we were going. As we started -down the long stone corridor, -the thief cried out, 'Wait a little. -I am a fool! A thief of my -experience not to know better! Ye -saints! An empty bottle is not -more stupid!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Hold!' cried the Duke, as the -thief darted back up the tunnel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Yes, Monsieur.' But our -thief made no pause, and was -heard running madly along the -stone passage out of which we -had just turned. '</span><em class="italics">Peste!</em><span>' said -the Duke. You will never see -that rascal again. He will buy -his own neck with ours. We -shall do well to push on and -leave no traces behind us.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'No,' said my mother, as we -stood staring after the man. 'I -know not why he went, but he -will come again.' And so we -waited, and some fifteen -minutes went by. At last said Duke -Philip, impatient, 'Did any one -ever trust a thief, Madame? Pray -remember at least that I am free -from blame.' He was vexed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'A thief has been trusted -before,' said my mother, in her -quiet way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'That was for the next -world, not this one. We shall -regret.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'No,' laughed the dear lady; -'for here he is, Duke.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He came in quick, almost -breathless haste, and hardly -able to say, 'Oh, it was worth -while, Madame. I have the bag -of gold we left, and that -brigand's clothes. That I should -have left a bag of gold! I of all -men!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'</span><em class="italics">Diantre!</em><span>' cried the Duke. -'What do you want with the -clothes? Are we about to start -a rag-shop? Come, we have -lost time!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I heard our thief mutter as -he fell in at the rear of the line, -back of us boys: 'He has no -imagination, that Duke. He -would make no figure as a thief. -</span><em class="italics">Mon ami!</em><span>' (that was to me), 'do -you know the toughest job in -the world?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'No,' I said, laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'To undress a gentleman -who has departed this life. He -does n't give you the least assistance.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I stumbled on, and was -thinking over this queer -statement when the Duke halted us -in a broader place whence three -stone passages led off at various -angles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'A </span><em class="italics">carrefour</em><span>, and which to -follow?' said the thief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'It cannot matter much,' -returned the Duke. I thought -he did not like the thief's -assuming to take part in our -counsels. Just then a tremendous -noise like thunder broke over -us, and rumbled away in strange -echoes down the stone alleys -before us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ye saints!' cried my mother, -as a yet louder thunder -resounded. 'What is that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'We are under a street,' -said our thief. 'It is the noise -of wagons.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'That might be a guide,' -said my mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Of a truth, yes, Madame,' -exclaimed our thief. But the Duke, -taking no notice, said, 'Let us -take this road to the left.' The -thief said nothing, but -shouldered his load, and we went on -as before. It was no time to -argue; nor, indeed, did it seem -to matter which way of the -many we chose, so we followed -after our Duke, little conscious, -we boys, of the greatness of our -peril. I suppose we must have -gone for ten minutes along a -narrowing tunnel, when my -mother called back to us to -stop, and the Duke said, 'We -are in a wet place. But,' he -added, presently, 'it is not deep; -let us go on,' and we started -afresh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As we moved ankle-deep in -water, a strange sound, like the -fall of something, broke out -behind us, and a great rush of -damp wind went by us like a -live thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Halloa!' cried our thief. -'Keep still!' and so saying, -hid the lantern under the skirt -of his coat. I was dreadfully -scared, for these dark caverns -were full of mysterious noises. -As yet we had heard none like -this which now we heard. In -the dark I seized the thief's -coat-tail for company. At -intervals there were lesser noises, -and when at last they ceased, -the Duke cried out, 'Heavens! -What was that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I will see, Monsieur,' said -the thief. 'I shall not go -far.' This time the Duke made no -remonstrance. The thief was -away not more than five -minutes. He left the lantern -beside my mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Well?' said she, as he reappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Madame,' he answered, the -tunnel from the wine-cellar has -fallen in: a great tumble of stone -fills up all the way.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'And to go back is impossible,' -said the Duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Heaven has willed for us -that we go on, and at least now -no one can pursue us,' said my mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'That is so,' said the Duke; -and we moved along, perceiving -that the way grew broader -until we were standing in a -space so great that no walls -could be seen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'And now where are we?' -said the Duke. 'Light us -another candle.' When this was -done, we saw that the great -chamber, quarried out in past -centuries, was too vast to give -us sight of all of it, or to enable -us to get a notion of its height. -Close by us a mighty pyramid of -bones of men stood in the mid -space, as if these had been cast -down through some opening -overhead, but long since closed. -These were the dead of -hundreds of years. There was no -odor of decay, but only a dull, -musty smell, like that of decayed -cheese. Here and there on this -great pile were faint tufts of bluish -light, seen only where the -lantern-light did not chance to fall. -I was just getting a little used -to this horrible sight when, as -our steps disturbed the base of -the pyramid, a good fourth of -it came rattling down with crash -and clatter, and dozens of -tumbled skulls rolled by us and -were lost to view in the -darkness. This noise and -movement alarmed not us alone; for -scarce was it half over when -myriads of rats ran out from -among the bones and fled away. -This pretty nearly made an end -of my courage; and, indeed, -these beasts were so big and so -many that had they been brave -we should, I think, have fallen -an easy prey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My mother was trembling all -over, as I could feel; but she -laughed a queer little laugh -when François said it was a -mercy they were not mice, -because ladies were afraid of these, -but not, he had heard, of rats. -As we had been kept in motion, -by this time we were across -this woeful space, and groping -along the wall for a way out. -Finding none, we went back -whence we came, and started -afresh, taking the extreme -righthand passage, which seemed to -lead, as we guessed, toward -the Luxembourg. Every few -yards were ways to left or right, -some hard to crawl through, -but most of such size that the -Duke, a tall man, could walk -in them erect. We saw no more -bones, but rats in legions. How -they lived, who can say? They -may have come from the cellars -of houses overhead. When we -crossed beneath streets, the -immense noise of the vehicles -told us this much, but hours -went by with no sound but the -scamper of rats, or the dull -dripping of water from the roof. In -some places it was a foul-smelling -rain, and in one place a small rill -fell down the wall and ran off -along the passage we were in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know, Monsieur,"—and -here the old gentleman, -being next to me, leaned over and -laid a hand on my knee,—"I do -not know how I can ever make -you or any one feel the increasing -horror of day after day of -darkness. When we walked, it was -often with no light until the -thief, who kept touching the -wall, would tell us there was a -passage to the right or left. -Then we would light the candle -and decide which way to go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This had been a sad day and -full of more danger than we lads -knew of, and of many fears; -but if the day was bad, the -night I shall never forget. The -Duke said it was seven o'clock, -and time to eat. We took -our rations eagerly enough, -and then the thief wrapped up -Henri and me in blankets, and -we two poor little dogs fell to -discussing where we were, and -when we should get out. At -last we slept, and were -awakened only by the Duke's shaking -us. We got up from our damp -bed, pretty well tired of our -adventure. But the Duke -declared we should soon be out -in the air; and so, on this our -seventh morning, we set forth -again. As the thief had some -positive notion of direction, and -the Duke had none, our good -thief took the lead, and would -have it that we boys should -come beside or after him. -Except for his rattle of jokes and -thieves' slang and queer stories -well worth remembering, I think -we boys would have given out -early on that weary day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My mother moved along, -saying nothing, but the Duke -now and then flung a skeptical -comment at our thief, who -nevertheless kept on, insisting that we -must soon come into daylight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At last the Duke called a -halt about five in the evening, -and, disheartened, in total -silence we ate our meal. We -decided to go no further until -morning. I drew Henri close up -to me, and tucked in the blankets -and tried to sleep. Unluckily, -the water-drops fell thick, and -the rats were so bold and fierce -that I was afraid. Assuredly, -they lacked no courage, for -during my brief lapses into slumber -they stole out of my coat pocket -a bit of cheese, a biscuit, and a -roll of twine. Once the baby -set up such a yell that the -thief, who stayed on guard, lit -a candle, and then we saw that -a rat had bitten the little fellow's finger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About six o'clock our thief -called, 'Breakfast is served,' and -we tumbled out of our covers, -dazed. 'The sun is up,' said the -thief, as he lit the candle; and -this was our eighth day since my -father left us shut in the cave. -The candles were giving out, -despite our most economical -care, and this day we ate in -darkness. I suppose this may have -upset me, since I began to have -for the first time strange fears. -I wanted to keep touch of some -one. I thought I felt things go -by me. I was afraid, and yet -neither as a child nor as a man -have I been called timid. -Indeed, I was not altogether sorry -when the baby cried; and, as the -thief said, he cried very solid. -Somehow I also felt that my -mother was growing weak, and -was feeling the long strain of -doubt and danger and deep -darkness. Even the Duke grew -downcast, or at least ceased from -his efforts to encourage my -mother and to cheer up his son and -me. Our thief alone never gave -up. He insisted on taking the -child from my mother, and -crooned to it amazing lullabies. -And to us he sang queer ballads, -and once, when we rested for -two hours, he told us some -astonishing tales such as I shall -some day delight to relate to -you. They were very queer -stories, I assure you.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When our sorry meal was -over, and the wine was circulating -hope with our blood, our thief -proposed to try to take those -ways which seemed to lead along -under streets. I do not see now -why this should have seemed -desirable, but it did, and we were -busy all that day following this -clue, if such it were, by waiting -until we heard the sound of -wagons. It was time we got -somewhere; for although we still had -a fair allowance of food, it was -no more than would serve with -economy for two days longer. -Still more alarming was it that -our candles were giving out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About five that afternoon of -July 28th we came to a full stop -where a long tunnel ended in a -</span><em class="italics">cul-de-sac</em><span>. It was a weary way -back, and as for us boys, we held -on to one another and choked -down our tears. The thief seemed -to understand, for when we again -got to the turn we had last taken, -he gave us in the dark a good -dose of wine, and saying, as he -lit the lantern candle, 'Rest, -Madame; I must see where now -to go,' he ran down the next -alley of stone, and we heard the -sound of his feet until they were -lost. Overhead the rumble and -roar of wagons were no longer -heard, and the stillness was as -the darkness, complete.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the morning of the day -before, these noises now and then -shook down small fragments of -stone, to our great alarm. Once -the thief said, 'If only a nice -little house would drop down, -and we could just go up-stairs -and walk out.' In fact, many -houses had thus fallen into these -caves, and it was by no means an -impossible thing. It served to -season our fears with a laugh; but -since then the constant silence -had made us hope we were going -out into the suburbs and toward -some opening. Alas! it came -not, and now when our thief left -us we were so dispirited that for -a time no one said a word of his -sudden departure. Then the -Duke, seeming to understand -how we felt, said, 'He will come -back soon'; and my mother, -whose sweet hopefulness was -sapped by this long fatigue, -answered, 'Or perhaps he will -not. God knows.' Even I, a lad, -heard her with astonishment, -because she was one who never -doubted that all things would -come out right, and all people -would do what they should.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I liked our thief, and when -an hour went by, and there was -borne in on me the idea that he -had deserted us, I burst into -tears. Just as my mother drew me -to her, saying, 'Do not cry, my -boy. God will take care of us,' -I heard our thief, beside me, cry -cheerily, 'This way, Madame. -I will show you the light of day.' As -we heard him we all leaped -up. He cried out, 'This way, -and now to the left, Monsieur le -Duc; and now this way,' and so -through several alleys until he -paused and said, 'See! The light -of day,' and certainly there was, -a little way off, a pale reflection -against the gray stone wall beyond us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I thought,' said our thief, -'that as we turned into the </span><em class="italics">impasse</em><span> -I felt a current of air. I was not -sure enough to speak, and I went -just now to see whence it came. -We have gone under the -Luxembourg or perhaps Val-de-Grâce, -and past the barrier.' Then he -explained that this cross-passage, -whence came the light, was short -and tortuous, and was partly -blocked by debris; that it opened -into a disused quarry; and that -it was beyond the city barrier. -Upon this, it seemed needful to -think over what was best to be -done when once we were out; -but my mother cried, 'Wait a -little,' and knelt down, as we all -did, and said aloud a sweet and -thankful prayer for our safety, -and concerning the thief God -had so strangely sent to help us -in our extremity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As she ended, I looked at the -man, and as we stood I saw that -now the rascal was shedding -tears. A moment later he passed -his sleeve across his eyes, and -said: 'If it please you, Monsieur -le Duc, let us go to the opening -and see more of the neighborhood.' We -went with them a little -way, and stood waiting. It was -so wonderful and so lovely to -get a glimpse even of the fading -light of day! It came straight -up the cave from the west. We -made no objection to being left -alone, and just stayed, as it were, -feeding on the ruddy glare, and -blinking at it like young owlets. -Every now and then my mother -turned to St. Maur or me, and -smiled and nodded, as much as -to say, 'We have light.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Before long they came back, -and there was then a long talk -of which we did not hear all, -but not for want of eager ears. -This council of war being over, -François went back into the -caves, and soon after returned -laughing, and dressed in the -clothes of the unlucky municipal guard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'One must not criticize what -one inherits,' he said. 'The -pantaloons are brief, and the -waistcoat is of such vastness as I would -choose to wear to-day to a good -dinner.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As the light was now quite -good, I saw this comical figure as -I had not seen him before. He -was tall and gaunt, with a nose -of unusual length, and was very -ruddy for so thin a man. He -seemed to be all the time on a -broad grin. He looked queer -enough, too, in the short -pantaloons and baggy waistcoat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Now,' he said, 'I am to -tie the Duke's hands behind his -back. He is, you see, an -aristocrat I am taking to Sainte -Pélagie. Madame his wife and -these children follow as I shall -order. Poor things! they do -not want to escape.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At this the Duke, whom -most things amused, submitted -to be tied, but laughed heartily -at the comedy, as he called it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'</span><em class="italics">Dieu!</em><span>' said the thief. 'This -is an affair of all our lives. See, -Monsieur; you have but to turn -the wrist, and you are free, in -case of need.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Duke, still smiling, -promised to be a perfect and -indignant aristocrat, and our -thief entreated us all to look as -sorrowful as we could. Of this -lesson, my mother, poor lady, -had small need; but we boys -had recovered our spirits with -sight of day, and when the thief -besought us and showed us how -we were to look, we were seized -with such mirth that the Duke -at last bade us understand that -it was no laughing matter, and -we promised to act our parts. -Finally we were made to fill -our pockets with the most of -the gold found in the bag, and -the rest the Duke and my -mother stowed away, while the thief -took the Duke's pistols, and, -leaving the others, girded on the -dead man's sword.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Now, guard yourselves,' -said the thief, as we went out -of the catacombs and across the -debris of stone, stumbling, still -unaccustomed to the light, and -so down a slope and around a -pond in the middle of the unused -quarry. On the far side a road -led out between the broken walls -of stone. Here the thief halted. -'Have you a handkerchief, -Madame?' he said. 'Use it. -Weep if ever you did. Never -may tears be of so much use -again. And you, lads, if you -laugh we are as good as dead.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'What day is it?' said my -mother, and the tears were quite -ready enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'It is July the twenty-eighth,' -answered the Duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Oh, no,' said I. 'Mama, it -is the 10th Thermidor.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'That is better,' said our -thief. 'Let us move on.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The quarry road opened -into a lane, and here were -market-gardens and rare houses, and -a deserted convent or two, and -a network of crossways through -which François directed the -Duke, who walked ahead, as if -under arrest. We followed them -anxiously beneath the ruddy -evening sky, wondering, as we -went, to see scarce a soul. The -Rue d'Enfer was the first street -we came upon as we left the -suburban lanes; but still it, too, was -deserted. The Duke remarked -on this singular absence of -people; but as we were now near a -small cabaret François called -out, 'Get along, aristocrat.' The -Duke said some wicked -words, and we went on. A man -came out of the café and cried -after us: 'Family of the guillotine! -</span><em class="italics">À bas les aristocrats!</em><span>' and -would François have a </span><em class="italics">petit -verre</em><span>? But our thief said no, he -was on duty, and our comedy -went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was necessary to pass the -Barriere d'Enfer, where usually -was a guard and close scrutiny. -To our surprise, there were but -two men. One of them said. 'Ah, -Citizen, what have you here?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Aristocrats under arrest—a -</span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> duke.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Have an eye to these,' said -the officer to his fellow; 'and -you, Citizen, come into the -guardroom and register their -names.' 'Certainly,' said the thief, and -we were set aside while he -passed into the room with the -guard. After some ten minutes -he came out alone very quietly, -and said to the other guard, 'It -is all correct and in order, -Citizen,' waited to tease a black cat -on the door-step, asked the hour, -and at last, giving the Duke a -rude push, cried out, 'Get on -there, aristocrat! I have no time -to waste.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At this we moved away, and -he hurried us along the Rue -d'Enfer past the Observatory. A -little further he struck hastily to -the left into the Rue Notre Dame -des Champs. By the Rue de -Cimetière, along past the -Nouvelle Foire St. Germain, he -hurried us, and hardly gave us leave -to breathe until we came out -amongst the trampled gardens -and tall alleys of box back of the -Luxembourg. Never pausing, he -wound in and out, until by these -roundabout ways he came forth -into the Rue Vaugirard. As -we went across the great ruined -gardens, a few people scattered -among the parterres looked at -us, as if curious, and whispered -to one another. Our thief was -still in great haste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Must I get you a grand -carriage to help you?' he cried. 'Get -on, aristocrat! Soon the -Republic will give you a carriage; come -along. Make haste, or we are -lost,' he added in a lower voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'What the deuce is it?' said -the Duke. The thief's uneasiness -was visible enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'</span><em class="italics">Mille tonnerres</em><span>! Duke,' said -the thief; 'that child of Satan -at the barrier knew me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'And what then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Now he does not know me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span>' exclaimed the -Duke. 'You are a brave </span><em class="italics">garçon</em><span>.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As we entered the Rue de -Varennes, an old woman glared -at the false municipal, crying out, -'Thy day is over, accursed!' She -shook her fist at him. Not -understanding, we hurried on. As -I looked back, her gray hair was -hanging about her; she stood -at the wayside, shaking her -upraised hands. I could not -comprehend what it meant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, as we went on, for the -first time we met great numbers -of people, all coming from the -river. A few were talking in -suppressed voices; and some, -turning, stared after us as we went -by. Most were silent, as folks -not often are in France. At one -place it was not easy to get on -as fast as our thief desired. In -place of quickly making way -for an officer, as was usual in -those days, the people in our path -jostled the municipal, or made -room sullenly. At last François -cried out to some young fellows -who blocked our way, 'Let these -suspects go by, citizens; they are -under arrest.' This was like a -spark to powder. A woman cried -out, 'Poor children! Are they -yours, Citoyenne?' My mother, -bewildered, said, 'Yes, yes.' Then -a young man near me -shouted, 'Down with tyrants!' Our -thief was puzzled. 'Hold, -there!' he cried. 'What is this?' 'Down -with the Terror! Robespierre is -dead.' And as if it were -a signal, the great crowd, ever -increasing, cried out, 'He is -dead! Robespierre is dead!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In a moment we were pushed -about and separated. François, -our thief, was cuffed and kicked -hither and thither. The silence -became an uproar of wild cries. -'He is dead! Robespierre is -dead!' It was a great madness -of release from fear, and a tumult -of cries, sharp and hoarse—an -outburst of human emotion, -sudden and strange to see. Near me -a woman fell in a fit. Men ran -about yelling, 'He is dead!' All -was confusion and tears and mad -laughter, any one embracing the -citizen next to him. There were -others who ran here and there -through the crowd, jumping up -and down, or catching some -woman and whirling her as if in a -dance. I lost sight of the Duke, -and Mama, and the thief, who -kept hold of this my friend; but -no one of them all did I see again -until late that night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As I was now where I knew -my way, I went to and fro, afraid -to ask questions, until I got to -the quay. There I saw a lad of -my own years, and it being by -this time quite near to dark, I -felt that I had a good chance to -run at need. 'Halloa!' I said. -'I am a boy from the country. -What is the news?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Oh, a fine sight, and you -have missed it. They have cut -off the heads of Robespierre and -Henriot and twenty more. He -had nankeen breeches and a blue -coat, and my father says that is -the end of the Terror. You ought -to have got there three hours -ago. Chop—chop—like carrots.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I was old enough to -have heard much of Robespierre, -and to have some idea of -the great relief his death might -mean. So I thanked my news-teller, -and ran as fast as I could -go to my home, in this present -house. I stood, however, a -moment, uneasy, at the opening of -the long covered way. Of a -sudden I screamed, for a man -caught me by the arm. </span><em class="italics">Mon -Dieu</em><span>! It was our neighbor, the -charcutier opposite.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He said, 'Have no fear, my -lad. Fear is dead to-day. Get -thee home; they look for thee. -Robespierre is dead. </span><em class="italics">À bas les -Jacobins!</em><span>'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'And my father is here?' I -heard him cry, 'Yes,' as he caught -me up and ran with me along the -court, kissing me. And there, -at the door, was my mama, -and behind her Duke Philip -and his son, and, to my joy, the -thief in short breeches. There -was much to say as to how my -father had made believe he was -the Duke, to give us a chance to -escape a search, and how, long -before the miscreant's death, he -had been released through the -help of Fouquier, and came -home to find us all gone. It was, -in fact, the day after we fled -from the cave that he was put in -possession of his house. When -the municipal who went with -him as a matter of form came -into the sitting-room where now -we are, my father said, 'Wait and -let me give you a glass of good -wine. I will fetch it.' So saying, -he took a lantern and went across -the garden in deadly terror and -anxiety, not dreaming but what -he would find us in the lower -cave. When he saw the trap -open in the floor of the -plant-house, he was filled with dread, -and quickly descended to the -upper wine-cellar. There was -the municipal the Duke had -wounded, lying dead in a great -pool of blood and wine; for the -ball had gone through him and -tapped a great cask of wine, of -which, indeed, I think I spoke. -My father then opened the trap -in the floor of the cellar, and -went down the steps. A great -wind came through the opening -in the wall, to his surprise. He -called, but none answered. At -the foot of the stone stair lay the -naked body of the municipal -whom the Duke killed outright -with his first pistol. Imagine my -father's perplexity on finding the -gap in the wall leading into the -great dark labyrinth of the -catacombs, and the rush of damp, -malodorous air, and the black -gulf beyond, and the answerless -silence when he called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He came up at once with a -bottle, and made fast the traps -and covered them with rubbish. -Then he gave the officer his drink -and a handful of assignats, which -may have been five francs, and -after that sat down to think. </span><em class="italics">Eh -bien!</em><span> it is a long tale, and here -comes supper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Another day you shall hear -how my father carried the dead -officers into the catacombs and -left them there, and of two -dangerous quests he made in those -caves in search of us, and of a -strange adventure which befell -him. On Sunday week come -and dine, and hear it all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is most interesting," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And this is the house, and -we were in the cave," said Pierce.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And," said I, "that was your -mother's glove we saw -moldering on the cask, where she -left it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. A few years ago we -found in a corner the baby's -rattle. The little fellow died last -June, an old man, and the -mother and the good, brave Duke -are gone. And now you will -sup with his son and grandson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," exclaimed young -St. Maur. "Here is François and -supper." Upon this the long, -lean man who had admitted us -said, "Monsieur is served. I -shall carry in the wine." And -he added, to me, "Monsieur may -have let fall his handkerchief," -and, so saying, he returned it, -lying on a salver. Upon this -the Duke and the rest of them -laughed outright, but made -haste to explain at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"François," said Des Illes, -"will you never be old enough -to acquire a little virtue? My -dear M. Michel, we have had -our good thief François with us -all these days, ever since that -adventure in the cave. He has -money in bank, but to steal a -handkerchief now and then he -cannot resist. I must say, he -always returns it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur will have his little -jest," said François. "The -supper waits." With this he left us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a delightful character!" -said Pierce. "And did he -really pick my friend's pocket?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Assuredly," said the Duke. -"For many years he used now -and then to ask a holiday. He -commonly came back rather -forlorn, and apt for a while to -keep the house and be shy of -gendarmes. It was our belief -that he went off to get a little -amusement in his old fashion. I -suspect that he got into serious -trouble once, but Des Illes is -secretive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how old is he?" said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That no man knows," returned -our host, rising. "To be -asked his age is the one thing -on earth known to annoy him. -He says time is the only thief -without honor among other -thieves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Queer, that," said I, as our -host rose. "The old have -commonly a strange pride in their -age."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have none," laughed the Duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This way," said Des Illes, -and we followed him into -a pretty dining-room, and sat -down below a half-dozen -canvases of men and women of -the days of the Regency.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a delightful little -supper, with clarets of amazing age -and in perfect condition. -Toward the close, Des Illes retired -for a few minutes to add the last -charm to what the younger -St. Maur called the toilette of the -salad. When we had praised -it and disposed of it, Des Illes -said to me: "Monsieur, our good -fortune has brought you here -to-night, on the evening when once -in each year we sup together in -the mourning costume which -may have excited your curiosity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To this we both confessed, -and Des Illes added: "On this -day we, who are among the few -who remember the Terror, meet -because it is January the -twenty-first. On this day died Louis -Sixteenth. You will join us, I -trust, in a glass of older wine in -remembrance of our dead King." Thus -speaking, he rose and -himself took from the mantel-shelf -a bottle. "It is of the -vintage of 1793, an old Burgundy. -Its name I do not know, but, -as you see, each bottle was -marked by my father with a -black ribbon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Standing beside me, he filled -our glasses, the Duke's, that of -St. Maur, and last his own. Pierce -and I rose with the rest. The -Duke said, "The King, to his -memory." and threw the glass -over his shoulder, that no meaner -toast might be drunk from it. I -glanced at Pierce, and we did as -they had done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It shows its age." said Des -Illes, "but still holds its -bouquet. Fading—fading!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One would scarce know it for -the wine we knew when it and -we were young," said the Duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Know it?" said Des Illes. -"Ah me, dear Duke, if you -yourself, aged twenty-five, were to -walk in just now and say, '</span><em class="italics">Bon -jour</em><span>, Duke, how is myself,' -would you know him, think you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Pardie</em><span>, my friend; you have -ghostly fancies. Give us some -younger wine and a gayer jest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With all my heart," said Des Illes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let it be the Clos Vougeot -of '20," said the younger -St. Maur. "It was with that -wonderful vintage that I made my -first entry into the highest -society of the great wines."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fine seigneur is that," said -Des Illes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It reminds me rather of some -grande dame," returned -St. Maur. "There is something -haughty about the refinement of -a high-caste Burgundy: a -combination of decisive individual -quality with good manners."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How pretty that is!" said -Pierce. "The good manners of a -wine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And is n't champagne just -a bit like a grisette?" laughed -the Duke. "But a Margaux like -this, or the Romance I see -yonder, are grandees, as my friend -has said; and there might be -more to say of them, but I leave -the rest to your fancy. A little -more Burgundy, Monsieur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As is, alas, true concerning -most of the pleasant meals I -remember, I can recall but faint -reminiscences of the bright talk -of that memorable supper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The younger St. Maur told us -a pretty story of a vineyard -wooing; a thing so delicate and -idyllic that I shall not dare to take -it out of its social frame for you. -Later, Des Illes stood up and in -a queer, creaky tenor sang (and -by no means ill) the song the -girls sing when they trample out -the juice of the grapes in the -great vats. Upon this Pierce -quoted:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Pink feet that bruise</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The gold-green grapes of Andalouse.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I rashly tried to put it into -French, and was much -complimented upon what I knew to -be a sorry failure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have a misty recollection -of what came after, of old-time -jests, of levities as to the -Corsican, and, too, a pretty story the -Duke told us of the fairy -vineyards near to Dijon, which only -a woman who loves has ever -seen. I seem now, as I write -of this delightful night, to see it -all again: the little old -gentleman; the clear-cut face of the -Duke; his son, cynical and -handsome; the sheen of jet; the -somber, picturesque dresses; thief -François behind Des Illes's -chair, ruddy, gaunt, not less -than ninety, with a smile of the -same age. As I try to recall it, -I remember—do I remember?—the -flavor of that Clos Vougeot, -and hear again the courteous -voice of the Duke: "A -little more Burgundy, Monsieur?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>A MADEIRA PARTY</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43242"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43242</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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