. The velvety, perfumed liquor, between fawn and topaz, neither too sweet nor too dry, creamed in its generous glass. But I knew no wine composed of the whispers of angels’ wings, the breath of Eden and the foam and pulse of Youth renewed. So I asked what it might be.
‘It is champagne,’ he said gravely.
This is from “The Bull that Thought”, collected in Debits and Credits.
The writer r has taken out his Rolls for a speed-test, on a moonlit summer bnight in the Rhone Delta. He has been accompanied by M. Voiron, a distinguished Frenchman, who invites him to a celebratory dinner.
Over a memorable champagne, M. Voiton tells the story of Apis, The Bull that Thought.