"What may I offer you?" he asked.
"Thanks—nothing," said Tidemand. "I have just had my dinner at the
Grand."
Ole placed the flat box with Havanas before him and asked again:
"A little glass? An 1812?"
"Well, thank you, yes. But never mind; it is too much trouble; you have to go down-stairs for it."
"Nonsense; no trouble at all!"
Ole brought the bottle from the cellar; it was impossible to tell what it was; the bottle appeared to be made of some coarse cloth, so deeply covered with dust was it. The wine was chilled and sparkling, it beaded in the glass, and Ole said:
"Here you are; drink hearty, Andreas!"
They drank. A pause ensued.
"I have really come to congratulate you," said Tidemand. "I have never yet made a stroke like that last one of yours!"