of the summer gushed in through the open door. There was ever a full
sound, with noise and vehemence, there, and the rolling music of the
Latin tongue never ceased.

"The wine of the siege, the wine that we saved," cried one.

"Look for the jar marked _Faunus_; you will be glad."

"Bring me the wine of the Owl's Face."

"Let us have the wine of Saturn's Bridge."

The boys who served brought the wine in dull red jars that struck a
charming note against their white robes. They poured out the violet and
purple and golden wine with calm sweet faces as if they were assisting in
the mysteries, without any sign that they heard the strange words that
flashed from side to side. The cups were all of glass; some were of deep
green, of the color of the sea near the land, flawed and specked with the
bubbles of the furnace. Others were of brilliant scarlet, streaked with
irregular bands of white, and having the appearance of white globules in
the molded stem. There were cups of dark glowing blue, deeper and more
shining than the blue of the sky, and running through the substance of
the glass were veins of rich gamboge yellow, twining from the brim to the
foot. Some cups were of a troubled and clotted red, with alternating
blotches of dark and light, some were variegated with white and yellow
stains, some wore a film of rainbow colours, some glittered, shot with
gold threads through the clear crystal, some were as if sapphires hung
suspended in running water, some sparkled with the glint of stars, some
were black and golden like tortoiseshell.