‘Do you keep wine in this house, landlord?’ asked our gentleman, with the air of a judge who has made up his mind to hang the prisoner no matter what he may answer.
‘Yes, your honour. Whatever your honour pleases.’
‘Indeed!’ The eyebrows went up, and the eyes widened. ‘I little thought to find it so.’
‘Tis my duty and privilege, your honour, to supply Squire Marden’s table from time to time. Now Squire has a liking for Mountain, your honour. A smooth and delicate drop of liquor is Mountain, which I would venture to recommend as well for its cheerful influence on the mind as for the refined pleasure which,
‘Ah,’ said the stranger, with a sneer, ‘you are a scholar, I find.’
‘No, sir. That I would not venture to claim, sir. Well, since it pleases you to insist, perhaps I am a little in that line, though my poor learning has been a-rusting these many years.
‘And a poet too, by Jupiter! Faith, you are a very paragon of innkeepers. Harkee, my dear love,’ roared the stranger, turning to his lady, ‘we’re lodged luckily tonight, with a landlord who talks Greek one minute and poetry the next. But that don’t quench our thirst, my good fellow. Your own was quenched an hour or more ago, I fancy, hey?’ With this last question the stranger flashed at him a piercing glance, as though something of consequence depended on his answer. But Bailey, intoxicated less by the little he had drunk than by the pleasure of being noticed, was not to be discouraged by sharpness. His spirit soared; he was in a mood to be discreetly merry, being conscious of the bright eyes of a young woman, and already transported to a time when he himself, with a little more luck and a spice of gallantry in his making, might have won just such a beauty for his own. He could not but notice that she was a personable and elegant creature, very genteel in her dress, very modest in her manners, and yet, he was fain to admit, with something of boldness as well as shyness in her, an enchanting mixture; for at times her eyes would sparkle saucily, her red lips pout as though to tempt a man to kissing, and at other times, when the gentleman was roaring his loudest and proudest, she would gaze with a wonder that was half fear, and let her mouth fall childishly open like any country wench. She sat very quiet, and, but for an occasional small laugh such as a less partial observer than Bailey might have called a giggle, and but for saying at intervals ‘La, sir, I wonder at you!’, she seemed content to let her eyes do her speaking, which they did very effectively, working considerable pleasant havoc in Mr Bailey’s heart.
‘I may not deny, sir,’ said he, ‘that I have quaffed somewhat in my day of the Pierian springs, but in the matter of strong waters of the more carnal sort and kind I acquit myself of immoderation. Innkeeper I am, as your honour has wittily said. Which is to say I keep an inn, and
The stranger stared with scornful astonishment for a moment. Then he burst out laughing, and laughed his fill. ‘Devil take your pedantry,’ he said, recovering speech. ‘Go fetch me a bottle of your best sack. And see here, my good fellow. Since you’re so sociable, you may share it with us and give us the benefit of your learned conversation.’