The coffee scent began to make him light-headed with something like desire. No, not desire. Greed. Geertruid had stumbled upon something, and Miguel felt her infectious eagerness swelling in his chest. It was like panic or jubilance or something else, but he wanted to leap from his seat. Was this energy from the strength of her idea or the effect of the coffee? If coffee fruit made a man unable to keep from fidgeting, how could it be the drink of commerce? Still, coffee was something marvellous, and if he could dare to hope that no one in Amsterdam plotted to take advantage of this new drink, it could be the very thing to save him from ruin.