Old Tomaso quickly produced some of it in a small, straw-covered flask, out of which he extracted the cork, and inserted a little cotton wool, to absorb the olive oil that kept the precious liquid from the air.
"This is a wine," observed the Count, "the secret of making which has been kept in our family for centuries upon centuries; nor would it avail any man to steal the secret, unless he could also steal the vineyard, in which alone the Monte Beni grape can be produced.

There is little else left me, save that patch of vines.

Taste some of their juice, and tell me whether it is worthy to be called Sunshine! for that is its name." "A glorious name, too!" cried the sculptor.

"Taste it," said Donatello, filling his friend's glass, and pouring likewise a little into his own.
"But first smell its fragrance; for the wine is very lavish of it, and will scatter it all abroad." "Ah, how exquisite!" said Kenyon.

"No other wine has a bouquet like this.