There was much noise and excitement, and as the supper progressed de Meneval grew almost frantic over the spectacle his dear little Léontine was making of herself. For she not only managed to drink innumerable glasses of apollinaris, but she sang, she even danced. She paraded up and down the room, singing, in her sweet, saucy voice, verses made up at the moment.
“Oh, I am the Widow Clicquot, Clicquot,
I live at the Château Margaux, Margaux,
My coachman’s name is Pommery Sec,
My footman is Piper Heidsieck,
Moët-et-Chandon are my span.”
She paused for reflection and added:
“And when Moët and Chandon go lame,
I drive Mumm and Roederer!”