"Some one has already spoken to them. They have had printed papers, reproaching them with indifference to their brothers. Come, will you support me?"
"I'll support you—the more readily as I cannot very well support myself. I only cared for Cephyse in the world; I know that I am on a bad road; you are pushing me on further; let the ball roll!—Whether we go to the devil one way or the other is not of much consequence. Let's drink."
"Drink to our next night's fun; the last was only apprenticeship."
"Of what then are you made? I looked at you, and never saw you either blush or smile, or change countenance. You are like a man of iron."
"I am not a lad of fifteen. It would take something more to make me laugh. I shall laugh to-night."
"I don't know if it's the brandy; but, devil take me, if you don't frighten me when you say you shall laugh tonight!"
So saying, the young man rose, staggering; he began to be once more intoxicated.
There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" The host made his appearance.
"What's the matter?"
"There's a young man below, who calls himself Olivier. He asks for M.
Morok."