The silver chain or sword-belt of Durand (the sword and the dagger were
not worn at the banquet, nor in the house, they were received by the
marshal, and deposited in his care, a precaution against quarrelling),
solid silver links passing over his shoulder, were real actual things.
All the magnificence that he could call up by the exercise of his
imagination, was but imagination; a dream no more to be seen by others
than the air itself.

The dinner went on, and the talk became more noisy. The trout, the
chicken, the thyme lamb (trapped on the hills by the shepherds), the
plover eggs, the sirloin, the pastry (the Baroness superintended the
making of it herself), all the profusion of the table, rather set him
against food than tempted him. Nor could he drink the tiny drop, as it
were, of ancient brandy, sent round to each guest at the conclusion,
precious as liquid gold, for it had been handed down from the ancients,
and when once the cask was empty it could not be re-filled.

The dessert, the strawberries, the nuts and walnuts, carefully preserved
with a little salt, and shaken in the basket from time to time that they
might not become mouldy, the apples, the honey in the comb with slices
of white bread, nothing pleased him. Nor did he drink, otherwise than
the sip demanded by courtesy, of the thin wine of Gloucester, costly as
it was, grown in the vineyard there, and shipped across the Lake, and
rendered still more expensive by risk of pirates. This was poured into
flagons of maple wood, which, like the earthenware cup of ale, were
never allowed to touch the board till the dinner was over.

Wearily the time went on; Felix glanced more and more often at the sky
seen through the casement, eagerly desiring to escape, and at least to