"Far be it from me to contradict the king," said I.
Indeed, his remark was most absolutely true—so far as it went.
While I yet spoke Josef came and set before the king a marvelous old wicker-covered flagon. It had lain so long in some darkened cellar that it seemed to blink in the candlelight.
"His Highness the Duke of Strelsau bade me set this wine before the king when the king was weary of all other wines, and pray the king to drink for the love that he bears his brother."
"Well done, Black Michael!" said the king. "Out with the cork, Josef. Hang him! Did he think I'd flinch from his bottle?"
The bottle was opened, and Josef filled the king's glass. The king tasted it. Then, with a solemnity born of the hour and his own condition, he looked round on us.
"Gentlemen, my friends—Rudolf, my cousin ('tis a scandalous story, Rudolf, on my honor!)—evrything is yours, to the half of Ruritania. But ask me not for a single drop of this divine bottle,
