though, if tradition can
be trusted, they grew a good grape here hundreds of years ago; but we
have cellarage, and here beneath our feet is a vault cut out of the
living rock, the temperature of which does not vary one degree Reaumur
on the hottest day in summer and the coldest night in winter. That is
the right harbour for such a craft as this to sail into.' He touched
the bottle affectionately with the tips of his beautifully-trimmed white
fingers. 'You must not take me for a wine-bibber,' he said smilingly,
'but all gifts of God are good, and this is the best that Heaven affords
in this direction.'

Paul rang the bell no great time later, and called for a second bottle.
The _doyen_ protested, but with a discernible faintheartedness. He
talked of vintages as the twilight fell and the lamp beamed more
brightly on the snowy napery. Well, he had travelled, he had seen
the world, he had been young. Of all wines in the world for him
Johannesberg. One bottle, one truly imperial bottle, he remembered.

'It was a physician of Paris, the most eminent, who travelled for his
pleasure, and whose acquaintance I made in Rome. It is very long ago.
The Holy Father was suffering agonies, and he endured them like a hero.
But everybody feared that he was dying, and our Roman doctors could
make nothing of the case at all. It occurred to somebody to speak to His
Holiness of the doctor Gaston. The physicians in attendance were glad
to invite him, and by a very simple and almost painless operation he
removed the seat of trouble, and in a week His Holiness was himself
again. His Holiness was full of gratitude, and would gladly have paid
any fee the doctor had chosen to name. But he would have no fee at all.
He was not a good son of the Church, but he was an excellent Christian
all the same, and it was his pride to have restored so valuable a
life. Gaston told me the whole story. "My child," said the Pope, "some
souvenir of your own skill and kindness you shall accept from me; I
insist upon it." Then the good doctor hardened his heart, and he said:
"I am for these many years a collector of wines, and I have in Paris my
little cellar, which is without its rival for its size. But there is
one treasure which I cannot buy, nor beg, nor steal. It is the Imperial
Johannes-berg. It goes alone to the crowned heads of Europe and to your
Holiness. Rothschild cannot buy it with his millions. If I may beg but a
bottle----" And His Holiness laughed, and