"Hebe was a cup-bearer to the mythological gods in olden times," Carmichael explained. He had set a trap, but the vintner had not fallen into it.
"A fairy-story." The vintner nodded; he understood now.
Carmichael's glance once more rested on the vintner's hand. He would lay another trap.
"What happened to her?"
"Oh," said Carmichael, "she spilled wine on a god one day, and they banished her."
"It must have been a rare vintage."
"I suppose you are familiar with all valleys. Moselle?"
"Yes. That is a fine country."
The old man in tatters sat erect in his chair, but he did not turn his head.
"You have served?"