"Lord Alhambra! I will take a glass of Johannisberg with you, if the
Marquess' wines are in the state they should be:

The Crescent warriors sipped their sherbet spiced,
For Christian men the various wines were _iced_.

I always think that those are two of the best lines in your Lordship's
poem," said Vivian.

His Lordship did not exactly remember them: it would have been a wonder
if he had: but he thought Vivian Grey the most delightful fellow he ever
met, and determined to ask him to Helicon Castle for the
Christmas holidays.

"Flat! flat!" said Vivian, as he dwelt upon the flavour of the Rhine's
glory. "Not exactly from the favourite bin of Prince Metternich, I
think. By-the-bye, Dormer Stanhope, you have a taste that way; I will
tell you two secrets, which never forget: decant your Johannisberg, and
ice your Maraschino. Ay, do not stare, my dear Gastronome, but do it."

"O, Vivian! why did not you come and speak to me?" exclaimed a lady who
was sitting at the side opposite Vivian, but higher in the table.

"Ah! adorable Lady Julia! and so you were done on the grey filly."

"Done!" said the sporting beauty with pouting lips; "but it is a long
story, and I will tell it you another time."

"Ah! do. How is Sir Peter?"