in our vases, so it is the secret of worldly wisdom to replace by fresh
friendships those that fade from our path."

"True philosophy!" exclaimed the prince. "'Not to admire,' was the
Roman's maxim; 'Never to mourn,' is mine. There is nothing in life to
grieve for, save, indeed, Signor Zanoni, when some young beauty, on whom
we have set our hearts, slips from our grasp. In such a moment we have
need of all our wisdom, not to succumb to despair, and shake hands with
death. What say you, signor? You smile! Such never could be your lot.
Pledge me in a sentiment, 'Long life to the fortunate lover,--a quick
release to the baffled suitor'?"

"I pledge you," said Zanoni; and, as the fatal wine was poured into his
glass, he repeated, fixing his eyes on the prince, "I pledge you even in
this wine!"

He lifted the glass to his lips. The prince seemed ghastly pale,
while the gaze of his guest bent upon him, with an intent and stern
brightness, beneath which the conscience-stricken host cowered and
quailed. Not till he had drained his draft, and replaced the glass upon
the board, did Zanoni turn his eyes from the prince; and he then said,
"Your wine has been kept too long; it has lost its virtues. It might
disagree with many, but do not fear: it will not harm me, prince, Signor
Mascari, you are a judge of the grape; will you favour us with your
opinion?"

"Nay," answered Mascari, with well-affected composure, "I like not the
wines of Cyprus; they are heating. Perhaps Signor Glyndon may not have
the same distaste? The English are said to love their potations warm and
pungent."