“To the health of the devil who provides it, gentlemen.”
The two men who were holding their glasses in their hand, put both glasses down on the table.
“What is that for?” asked Thibault.
“You must find someone else to drink that health with you,” said François, “I won’t, that’s flat!”
“Nor I,” added Champagne.
“Well and good then! I will drink all three glasses myself,” and he immediately proceeded to do so.
“Friend Thibault,” said the Baron’s valet, “it is time we separated.”
“So soon?” said Thibault.
“My master is awaiting me, and no doubt with some impatience ... the letter, Champagne?”
“Here it is.”