"Yes, coffee roasted during the meal and ground immediately before its concoction. And for liqueur...."
My friend was suddenly taken with a little doubt. "I dare not ask," said he, "for the liqueur called Aquebus? Once only did I taste it. A monk gave it me on Christmas Eve four years ago and I think it is not known!"
"Oh, ask for it by all means!" said his host. "Why, we know it and love it in this place as though it were a member of the family!"
My friend could hardly believe his ears on hearing such things, and said nothing of cigars. But to his astonishment his host, putting his left hand on my friend's shoulder, looked him full in the face and said:
"And now shall I tell you about cigars?"
"I confess they were in my mind," said my friend.
"Why then," said his host with an expression of profound happiness, "there is a cigar in this town which is full of flavour, black in colour, which does not bite the tongue, and which none the less satisfies whatever tobacco does satisfy in man. When you smoke it you really dream."
"Why," said my friend humbly, "very well then, let us mention these cigars as the completion of our little feast."
"Little feast, indeed!" said his host, "why it is but a most humble meal. Anyhow, I am glad to have had from you a proper schedule of your pleasures of the table. In time to come when we know each other better, we will arrange other large and really satisfactory meals; but this will do very well for our initiatory lunch as it were." And he laughed merrily.