In the mean while De Vlierbeck rattled away, with the ease of a man of the world, on all subjects that might interest his guests; yet he listened, with equal good manners, to Denecker’s conversation, and now and then adroitly threw in such hints as allowed him to speak learnedly upon commercial matters.  The merchant was gratified by his deferential civility, and was drawn toward his entertainer by a stronger bond than that of mere social politeness.

Indeed, all went on swimmingly, and all were pleased with themselves.  De Vlierbeck was especially gratified to find that Bess and her boy performed their tasks so well, and that the spoons and plates were so quickly washed and brought back that it was impossible to notice the deficiency of their number.  One thing alone began to worry him.  He saw with pain that while Denecker was busy with his food and chat he was equally busy with the wine, and that glass after glass disappeared with more rapidity than was agreeable to his supply.  Besides this, Gustave, who was probably anxious for some excuse to have a word with Lenora upon any pretext, constantly asked permission to fill her glass; so that, very soon after the soup and meat had been disposed of, the first bottle was entirely emptied.

Civility required that it should be immediately replaced; and, as De Vlierbeck observed that the more Monsieur Denecker talked the more he drank, he thought he might try whether less conversation would not moderate the merchant’s thirst.  But, alas! he was disappointed; for at that moment Denecker introduced the topic of wine, and, lauding the generous juice of the grape, expressed surprise at the extraordinary sobriety of his host.  With this he redoubled his attack on the bottle, and was in some degree, though less vigorously, seconded by Gustave.  De Vlierbeck’s agony became more and more intense as he saw the rosy fluid sink and sink in the second bottle, until at length the last drop was drained into the merchant’s glass.

“Yes,” said Denecker, “your wine is both old and good; but I have always found, in tasting liquors, that if we don’t change them we lose their flavor.  I take it for granted that you have a first-rate cellar, if I may judge by your first samples; so I propose that we now try a bottle of your Chateau-margaux; and, if we have time, we can finish with a bottle of hochheimer.  I never drink champagne:  it is a bad liquor for wine-drinkers.”

As the last words fell from Denecker, poor De Vlierbeck grew deadly pale, as his frightened spirit went rummaging through the cracks and crannies of his brain for some inspiration or expedient which might extricate him from his deep perplexity.

“Chateau-margaux?” inquired he, with a calm smile.  “Certainly, sir, if you wish it.”  And then, turning to the lackey,—­“John,” said he, “bring a bottle of Chateau-margaux:  you will find it in the third cellar on the left-hand side.”