same distaste? The English are said to love their potations warm and pungent."
"Do you wish my friend also to taste the wine, Prince?" said Zanoni. "Recollect, all cannot drink it with the same impunity as myself."
"No," said the Prince, hastily; "if you do not recommend the wine, Heaven forbid that we should constrain our guests! My lord Duke," turning to one of the Frenchmen, "yours is the true soil of Bacchus. What think you of this cask from Burgundy? Has it borne the journey?"
"Ah," said Zanoni, "let us change both the wine and the theme."
With that, Zanoni grew yet more animated and brilliant, Never did wit more sparkling, airy, exhilarating, flash from the lips of reveller. His spirits fascinated all present — even the Prince himself, even Glyndon — with a strange and wild contagion. The former, indeed, whom the words and gaze of Zanoni, when he drained the poison, had filled with fearful misgivings, now hailed in the brilliant eloquence of his wit a certain sign of the operation of the bane. The wine circulated fast; but none seemed conscious of its effects. One by one the rest of the party fell into a charmed and spell-bound silence, as Zanoni continued to pour forth sally upon sally, tale upon tale. They hung on his words, they almost held their breath to listen. Yet, how bitter was his mirth! — how full of contempt for the triflers present, and for the trifles which made their life.
