the entremets. It is too generous, too strong. It is often sold in
Paris adulterated with brandy and called Madeira. The wine-merchants
buy it up, when our vintage has not been good enough for the Dutch and
Belgian markets, to mix it with wines grown in the neighborhood of
Paris, and call it Bordeaux. But what you are drinking just now, my
good Monsieur, is a wine for kings, the pure Head of Vouvray,--that's
it's name. I have two puncheons, only two puncheons of it left. People
who like fine wines, high-class wines, who furnish their table with
qualities that can't be bought in the regular trade,--and there are
many persons in Paris who have that vanity,--well, such people send
direct to us for this wine. Do you know any one who--?"

"Let us go on with what we were saying," interposed Gaudissart.

"We are going on," said the fool. "My wine is capital; you are
capital, capitalist, intellectual capital, capital wine,--all the same
etymology, don't you see? hein? Capital, 'caput,' head, Head of
Vouvray, that's my wine,--it's all one thing."

"So that you have realized your intellectual capital through your
wines? Ah, I see!" said Gaudissart.

"I have realized," said the lunatic. "Would you like to buy my
puncheons? you shall have them on good terms."

"No, I was merely speaking," said the illustrious Gaudissart, "of the
results of insurance and the employment of intellectual capital. I
will resume my argument."

The lunatic calmed down, and fell once more into position.