“Then you have little to fear from it, alas!” said Gagabu laughing. “Proceed, my lord of the chase.”
“The rim of the beaker,” was the answer, “is like the lip of the woman you love. Touch it, and taste it, and it is as good as the kiss of a bride.”
“General—the turn is yours.”
“I wish the Nile ran with such wine instead of with water,” cried the soldier, “and that I were as big as the colossus of Atnenophis, and that the biggest obelisk of Hatasu were my drinking vessel, and that I might drink as much as I would! But now—what have you to say of this noble liquor, excellent Gagabu?”
The second prophet raised his beaker, and gazed lovingly at the golden fluid; he tasted it slowly, and then said with his eyes turned to heaven:
“I only fear that I am unworthy to thank the Gods for such a divine blessing.”
“Well said!” exclaimed the Regent Ani, who had re-entered the room unobserved. “If my wine could speak, it would thank you for such a speech.”
“Hail to the Regent Ani!” shouted the guests, and they all rose with their cups filled with his noble present.
He pledged them and then rose.
“Those,” said he, “who have appreciated this wine, I now invite to dine with me to-morrow. You will then meet with it again, and if you still find it to your liking, you will be heartily welcome any evening. Now, good night, friends.”