I see him making a show of it and an ass of himself. He’s trying to impress the girl, but as with all things that take great effort, there is some sort of grace missing. I imagine that they invite monsieur Tistan to share a glass and that when he finally tastes the wine, the waiter reappears with a new bottle and the old one is gone.
They are both speechless and puzzled.
“It was corked,” he said. “Not terribly, but if you are going to drink a Bordeaux, I wanted it to be perfect for you.”
