The Actress in High Life | Page 8

happens to him? Why just
for blundering into a Spanish village, and being nearly taken with his
whole command, he is made a lieutenant-colonel on the spot."
"That is a curious result of such a blunder."

"Curious, but true. This is capital port," interjected the colonel,
emptying his glass. "We drank no such stuff as this during the last
campaign. I would not disgust you with a detail of our privations; but
you must know, Lady Mabel, that during the whole march from Madrid
to Burgos, and thence, in retreat, to Ciudad Rodrigo, I never tasted a
bottle of wine that deserved the name, except one of Peralta, of which I
feel bound to make honorable mention. I met with it by great good luck
at the posada at Buitrago; but when I called for another, it was so
excellent that the landlord had drank all himself. The stuff we had to
drink was made by pouring water on the skins of grapes already
pressed. After they had been well macerated in it, it was allowed to
ferment and grow sour, then sold to us at the price of good liquor."
"That accounts," said Lady Mabel, "for the provident care you lately
showed, in laying in a stock of better liquor for your winter's use. Is it
true that you sent a special agent to Xeres de la Frontera, to select the
best sherry for the regimental mess?"
"Not exactly a special agent," said the colonel, disclaiming it with a
gentle wave of the hand; "but, finding a trusty person, and a capital
judge, going thither, we did charge him with a little commission that
way."
"I was sorry to hear of your disappointment," added she, in a
commiserating tone. "I am told that he found that the firm of Soult,
Victor & Co., had already taken up all the oldest and best wine on
credit, that is, without paying for it; and you had to put up with new
and inferior brands, or go without any."
"It is but too true," said the colonel, with a sigh. "Those rascally
Frenchmen had drained the country of everything worth drinking; our
agent, very wisely, under the circumstances, made no purchase there,
and I am glad of it; for I have since learned, that the Amontillado,
which had been recommended to us as the dryest of sherry wines, is
made from a variety of grapes plucked before they are ripe."
"How lucky," said Lady Mabel, in a congratulatory tone, "that you have
since found out that this wine is made of sour grapes."

A faint suspicion that she was laughing at him induced him to change
the topic. "You were never abroad before, I believe. This part of the
country has some drawbacks; but I think you will find it, during the
winter, a very pleasant part of the world."
"We will all endeavor to make it so to you, Lady Mabel," said Major
Warren, who, impatient of his superior's monopoly, here tried to edge
in a word. But the colonel cut him short with "That's a mere truism,
Warren, a self-evident proposition. Let us have nothing more of that
sort. One of the peculiarities of this climate, Lady Mabel, is that it has a
double spring: one in February and another in April. Then we will see
you take your appropriate place in the picture, representing the heyday
of youth in the midst of spring, and beauty, surrounded by flowers."
She bowed low, in suppressing a laugh at this elaborate compliment,
and said, "Will spring be so soon upon us?"
"In a fortnight you may gather the same flowers which at home you
must wait for till May."
"Not the same flowers," said she, quickly. "Portugal has a Flora
peculiar to itself, embracing very few of our native British plants. I am
on my strong ground on this topic, being a pupil of Dr. Graham, who
relieves his graver studies by striving to rival King Solomon in the
knowledge of plants, 'from the cedar of Lebanon to the hyssop that
grows on the wall.' I am pledged to carry home a vast hortus siccus for
him."
"Oh! a scientific young lady--perhaps a little of a blue-stocking, too,"
said the colonel to himself. "I must hash up a dish to suit her peculiar
taste. Though no botanist," continued he aloud, "there is one plant that
has strongly attracted my attention, and I recommend it to yours;
though your hortus siccus will hardly contain a fair specimen of it."
"What is that?" said she, on the qui vive to hear of some rare plant.
"It is the cork-oak," said the colonel, solemnly. "Its rough exterior has
led tourists and artists, and even naturalists, to treat it with neglect,

while it is daily contributing to the comfort,