'Dinner for six, Madame Omelette—and plenty of Burgundy—'
'Nay Marechal, devil strangle me, no Burgundy for me—but Champagne—the pure wine of Champagne,' said Cheyne of Dundargle, who had lost his left ear under Lord Teviot at the capture of Nanci in 1633.
'Champagne and Burgundy be it—M. le Duc de Burgundy's best, by Jupiter!' said the Viscount.
'To the devil with Jupiter and all false gods,' cried Sir Quentin, adding his voice to the din; 'let us all shout Vive le Roi!'
''Tis all the French thou hast learned yet.'
''Tis enough for me, Viscount.'
'And will serve thee under fire,' said the Marechal de Logis; 'but make love to a grisette, and she will soon teach you French.'
'Thanks for the advice, sir. I have already engaged a preceptress.'
'What! you who have not been twenty-four hours in Paris?'
'Yes, I. The language of the eyes will aid the language of the tongue.'