had no charms for him. All his young enthusiasm was for
Item: a dessert composed of eleven delicate dishes, among which we
remarked (in spite of the tipsiness caused by sixteen bottles of
the choicest wines) a compote of peaches of august and mirobolant
The wines of Roussillon and those of the banks of the Rhone
completely effaced those of Champagne and Burgundy. A bottle of
maraschino and another of kirsch did, in spite of the exquisite
coffee, plunge us into so marked an oenological ecstasy that we
found ourselves at a late hour in the Bois de Boulogne instead of
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