At length, when all was ready, Georgios charged, or seemed to charge, his own horn, and, lifting it, said: "Let us drink, everyone of us here, to the noble knight, Sir Andrew D'Arcy, to whom I wish, in the phrase of my own people, that he may live for ever.

Drink, friends, drink deep, for never will wine such as this pass your lips again." Then, lifting his beaker, he appeared to drain it in great gulps--an example which all followed, even Sir Andrew drinking a little from his cup, which was three parts filled with water.
There followed a long murmur of satisfaction.
"Wine! It is nectar!" said Wulf.
"Ay," put in the chaplain, Matthew; "Adam might have drunk this in the Garden," while from the lower table came jovial shouts of praise of this smooth, creamlike vintage.
Certainly that wine was both rich and strong.

Thus, after his sup of it, a veil as it were seemed to fall on the mind of Sir Andrew and to cover it up.

It lifted again, and lo! his brain was full of memories and foresights.

Circumstances which he had forgotten for many years came back to him altogether, like a crowd of children tumbling out to play.