“One minute,” said Montbar, just as Antoine was putting his glass to his lips.
“Just in time,” said the postilion; “it was on its way. What is it?”
“You wouldn’t let me drink to the health of your mistress, but I hope you won’t refuse to drink to mine.”
“Oh! that’s never refused, especially with such wine. To the health of your mistress and her company.”
Thereupon citizen Antoine swallowed the crimson liquor, tasting and relishing it this time.
“Hey!” exclaimed Montbar, “you’re in too much of a hurry, my friend.”
“Pooh!” retorted the postilion.
“Yes. Suppose I have several mistresses. If I don’t name the one we drink to what good will it do her?”
“Why, that’s true!”
“Sad; but you’ll have to try again, my friend.”