As the supper was to be partaken of by him and his people at the Duke’s expense, the captain of the guard had taken especial care to see that it was a good one. His Royal Highness sat at a small table near the huge fire-place, with Captain Strang upon his left hand. There they were first served by the chamberlain, and the three men of the guard, with all the delicacies they chose to call for; and large beakers of the new wine being placed before them, the captain gave full way to his Bacchanalian inclinations. By and bye they began to play at dice and tables, whilst the chamberlain and his three guests were supping. Though already not a little affected by the wine he had swallowed, the captain preserved enough of his cunning and knavish brains, to enable him to cheat most villainously. This did not escape the Duke, but he took care not to appear to perceive it—cursed his ill luck—and went on to lose, much to the satisfaction of his opponent, whilst the knavish Strang was secretly congratulating himself upon his own wonderful strength of head, which had so far prevailed over the comparative weakness of his royal adversary. Meanwhile the chamberlain was busily employed in supplying the captain, as well as his own peculiar guests, with wine, in the greatest abundance. By degrees, Strang became so much elevated, as to lose much of that obsequious respect with which he had at first treated his royal host.
“Delicious wine!” cried he, smacking his lips, after a long draught of it, which left his cup empty. “By the holy Virgin, delicious wine indeed! But—aw—aw—its goodness inflames me—aw—aw—with a furious desire to taste—aw—aw—to taste, I say, that other cask the French knave spoke of—aw—aw—that, I mean, which stands yonder, behind—aw—aw—behind the barrel from which we have—aw—aw—been tasting; that, I mean—aw—aw—of which the French Mooshie spake so largely.”
The chamberlain darted a look of agony at his master; but the Duke preserved a perfect composure.
“Thou shalt taste it forthwith, Sir Captain,” said the Duke, giving, at the same time, a private signal to the chamberlain. “Go, use thy wimble, and bring us a flask of that other wine.”
The chamberlain, understanding his master, went to the barrels, and concealing them as much as he could by stooping over both of them, he fumbled with the wimble at the second cask; and, whilst he pretended to fill the can from it, he slyly drew its contents from the same which had been running all night, and then he poured out two sparkling goblets, and set them down on the table.
“Well, Sir Captain,” said the Duke, after Strang had taken a long draught of the wine, “what sayest thou to it? Is it as good as that which thou hast been all night drinking?”
“That which we have been drinking all night—aw—aw—is but as hog’s wash compared to it,” cried the captain, his eyes beginning to goggle in his head, and emphatically dashing his empty cup down on the table. “No, no—aw—aw—my palate—aw—aw—is—aw—too true to be deceived that way. This, look ye, is a wine of—aw—aw—of superior growth, flavour, and body, not to be matched—not to be—aw—aw—matched, I tell ye—not to be matched.”
“It is, indeed, excellent, as thou sayest,” replied the Duke—“absolute nectar!—Come, fill our goblets again.”
“By the Rood, but this is—aw—aw—wine indeed!” cried the captain of the guard again, after emptying his goblet for the second time. “It grows—aw—aw—better and better—aw—aw.”
“I feel it whizzing in my very brain,” said the Duke. “I doubt that thou wilt have but an easy conquest of me now, Sir Captain. But come, nevertheless, play away, for I will have my revenge.”