As he drew nearer I could see his fat, evil face, with its watery eyes, looking like some bloated monster of the deep. He called to me as he drew closer, the habitual leer upon his face: "How does my lord stand the fatigue of his travel? I trust that he has not been greatly inconvenienced by our rude accommodations." I answered calmly, having my own reasons for not angering the man; perhaps he knew something of the plan to detain me here, and who stood behind it. "Not greatly fatigued," I said, "and yet tired. Come inside and have a glass of the wondrous wine of the Count." The pale eye lit up, his tongue protruded from his lips, as I have seen a dog's at the sight of a bone, and he glanced hastily around him. Only a few men were in sight, busy at work around the barrack. Coming nearer he spoke in a low voice: "I will take one glass with thee, noble sir; only one glass, to celebrate thy safe arrival." "Come into the house, then," I said. Retracing my steps to the room which I had just left, I threw myself upon one of the divans, motioning him to take the one opposite. He did so, at the same time catching up the bottle of wine from the table and looking at the seal. A smile broke over his face, as he saw the rich amber fluid. "The wine of the King of Spain!" he cried. "How camest thou by this?" "The Count opened it," I answered. "Drink!" And taking the bottle from his unwilling hands, I poured out a brimming glass. Catching it up, he put it to his lips; then held out the empty glass to me. "Wine!" he cried, "that warms the cockles of the heart as old age creeps on; that turns life's cheerless existence into gold. Wine, the curse of youth; the friend of middle life; the staff of old age--the great alchemist that turns the dull, gray hours into sunshine. Ah, I drink to him who first discovered wine!" And he drained the second goblet, though somewhat slower than the first, as if to taste each drop of the precious fluid. Upon finishing this glass, a thought seemed to strike him, and he held up the golden goblet to the light; for while we sat, the same noiseless servant lit the candles that stood in the golden candelabras which hung upon the walls, and the great room was bathed in a flood of light. "Ah! this goblet," the priest resumed, "well do I remember it; taken by the impious son of Holy Church from the Cathedral at Cartagena. I implored, but my anguish availed nothing." And the great tears rolled down the fat cheeks of the rascal, whose face was fast settling into the cunning of intoxication. The two great goblets he had drunk in rapid succession--and I surmised that he had been celebrating before now the safe return of the vessel--had almost overcome him. Although his head was like a stone, from constant, excessive drink, yet even a stone can be worn away by continual dripping. His eye rested on my goblet which I had not filled, for I needed a clear head to pump the rascal. Suspicion struggled for a moment upon his face.