"Just taste that for me, and tell me what you think of it! A little bit new; but it will be something famous!"
I noticed that he did not fill his own glass.
"How about you?"
He heaved a deep sigh.
"It is forbidden," he said. "The doctor pretends that it is n't good for me. What does the doctor know, after all? Just once, more's the pity, to your health!"
And he clicked his glass against mine, after pouring into it a few glistening drops of wine. Then he smacked his lips, with a critical approving air, and said:
"I'll send you a barrel when you are back in Paris. But you are going to stay awhile, are n't you?"
That simple question, although I had expected it, was enough rudely to reawaken the anxiety concerning my affairs which had been merged in the other anxiety. But there was such longing in my father's eyes, such supplicating desire, that I could not help replying:
"Oh, yes! certainly, until I am recalled."
He pondered a moment, his eyes rather vague, and after a little hesitation, asked me:
"What brought you anyway?"
I had expected that question also, but it troubled me. I began to explain.
"I had for a long time been promising myself
