“Port!” replied Grimaud, beginning a fresh sum.
“I have heard,” said Blaisois, “that port is a very good wine.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Mousqueton, smacking his lips. “Excellent; there is port wine in the cellar of Monsieur le Baron de Bracieux.”
“Suppose we ask these Englishmen to sell us a bottle,” said the honest Blaisois.
“Sell!” cried Mousqueton, about whom there was a remnant of his ancient marauding character left. “One may well perceive, young man, that you are inexperienced. Why buy what one can take?”
“Take!” said Blaisois; “covet the goods of your neighbor? That is forbidden, it seems to me.”
“Where forbidden?” asked Mousqueton.
“In the commandments of God, or of the church, I don’t know which. I only know it says, ‘Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods, nor yet his wife.’”
“That is a child’s reason, Monsieur Blaisois,” said Mousqueton in his most patronizing manner. “Yes, you talk like a child—I repeat the word. Where have you read in the Scriptures, I ask you, that the English are your neighbors?”
“Where, that is true,” said Blaisois; “at least, I can’t now recall it.”