"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." "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." "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." "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." "A pretty strong statement," laughed Francis. "I hope, sir, you do not mean to doubt—" "Oh, by no means," cried the other, interrupting the irascible old man. "Not I. Pardon me—a thousand pardons!" "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: "I hope, Hamilton, you have not arranged for a heavy supper." "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." "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 _parce qu’il n’avait pas des comtes._" "Is that a true tale, Chestnut?" asked Francis, amid the amusement of the others. "Yes, it is true. It was explained to me later that the dealer said the terrapin were not _counts_. 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." "Talking of ducks, my dear Wilmington," said Francis, "tell Chestnut what Wharton said of them at dinner here last week."