After dinner mine host appeared, bearing with him a cob-webbed flask.
"It is a wine of France, excellency--Burgundy--and all my customers do not taste this, I can tell you."
"I am favoured, indeed, Messer Passaro; take a seat, and help yourself."
"The condescension of your excellency!" and with a bow he settled himself on the extreme edge of a chair.
We poured out our measures, and on testing the wine I found it most excellent; as for Passaro, he pushed himself back into his seat and let the liquid down his throat in drops, his eyes closed in an ecstacy. When he opened them, which he did after a time, he gasped out:
"Is not that glorious, signore? Have you ever lipped the brand?"
"I confess it is wine for the gods," I said. "Is there much in your cellar."
"Store of it, excellency; I was not butler to His Eminence of Strigonia for ten years for nothing."
"_Cospitto!_ And your excellency's forgiveness for swearing. He is the finest judge in the world. There is no brand he could not name, nay, tell you the year of vintage, were he blindfold and a drop but touched his palate. _Corpo di Bacco!_ But he is a true prince of the Church."
"Ah! you are a sly dog, Messer Passaro," and I filled him his glass; "I warrant me you could tell many a tale of the cardinal. But come now, has not the Baglioni as fine a taste in wines, and a better one for a neat ankle?"
"Hush!" he said, looking around him as he put down his empty glass, "in your ear, excellency--the Count Carlo has big teeth and bites hard. Let your tongue be still when his name comes up in Perugia."
"Thanks, friend, but Count Carlo owes me no grudge, or else I should not be here."
"Your worship has come to join him then?"
"As you see, Messer Passaro," and I filled his glass again, "I am a soldier and love to serve a soldier. Besides things will be on foot soon, for what with the French at Passignano, war cannot be delayed long."
"True, and a light has been put to the torch too."
"Hurrah! Another glass, man; we soldiers are sick of this truce. Our purses run dry in peace. But tell me."
"You must know, signore, that all the country east of Castiglione to the Tiber, and lying between the Nestore and Casale, is a fief of the Castellani, and the Count--ha! ha! It was glorious!" and he slapped his thigh--"ha! ha!"