No sooner had he said this, than the steward made his appearance, and furnished up a most delicious repast, Francis did not wait for his being requested to partake of it: but after having made a hearty meal, he said to the lord of the castle, “Your kitchen is by no means despicable; if your cellar is correspondent, I cannot but say you treat your guests nobly.”
The chevalier made a sign to his butler, who brought up some inferior wine, and filled a large glass to his master, who drank to his guest. Francis instantly returned the compliment.
“Well, young man, what say you to my wine?” asked the chevalier.
“‘Faith,” replied Francis, “I say it is bad, if it is the best you have in your cellar; but if you have none worse, I do not condemn it.”
“You are a connoisseur;” answered the chevalier. “Butler, bring us a flask of older wine.”
His orders being instantly attended to, Francis tasted it. “This is indeed some good old wine, and we will stick to it if you please.”
The servants brought in a great pitcher of it, and the chevalier, being in high good-humour, drank freely with his guest; and then launched out into a long history of his several feats of prowess in the war against the Venetians. He became so overheated by the recital, that in his enthusiasm he overturned the bottles and glasses, and flourishing his knife as if it were a sword, passed it so near the nose and ears of Francis, that he dreaded he should lose them in the action.
Though the night wore away, the chevalier did not manifest any desire to sleep; for he was quite in his elements, whenever he got on the topic of the Venetian war. Each succeeding glass added to the heat of his imagination as he proceeded in his narration, till at length Francis began to apprehend that it was the prologue to the tragedy in which he was to play the principal part; and feeling anxious to learn whether he was to pass the night in the castle, or be turned out, he asked for a last glass of wine to enable him to sleep well. He feared that they would commence by filling him with wine, and that if he did not consent to continue drinking, a pretext would be laid hold of for driving him out of the castle with the usual chastisement.
However, contrary to his expectation, the lord of the castle broke the thread of his narration, and said to him:—“Good friend, every thing in its place; to-morrow we will resume our discourse.”
“Excuse me, sir knight,” replied Francis; “to-morrow, before sun-rise, I shall be on my road. The distance from hence to Brabant is very considerable, and I cannot tarry here longer, therefore permit me to take leave of you now, that I may not disturb you in the morning.”