“Come, come, my boys, this won’t work,” he said, filling the glasses; “you’re as solemn to-night as gallows-birds! I forgive Bellecour, who is only a chicken-hearted fellow anyway! But you over there—Vermontré—Courval—Dufresne—or whatever you choose to call yourself——”
“Hold your tongue, you idiot!” cried Dufresne angrily; “I forbid you to call me by that last name now!”
“You forbid me! Well, upon my soul! what a savage look! You used to call yourself that, when you lived with that poor Dolban, who thought you really loved her, and who——”
“Hold your tongue, I say, you sot!”
“Sot! ah! it sounds well for you to call me a sot, when you slept under the table last night! and when you drink punch like a hole in the ground! But never mind, I don’t quarrel with my friends, and we are friends, after all. It is plain enough that you are both out of temper; Edouard on account of that scrap of paper which worries him so, and you—Oh! as to you, I don’t know what the matter is; it must be some martingale that didn’t work, or some friend that took you in, or else it’s—But I say, what was that Véronique was telling you, about her poisoning, and her widow, and the lover who wasn’t her lover? Do you know that’s as like your intimacy with old Dolban as one drop of water is like another! If it was you—Ha! ha! you’re quite capable of such a game!”
“For heaven’s sake, go to bed, Lampin; you see that Edouard is asleep already, and you will wake him up with your laughter.”
“Well! what’s the harm if I should wake him? The deuce! You’re terribly careful of him to-night! But I propose to laugh, to laugh and drink; and I don’t propose to go to bed, do you understand? I feel in the mood for raising the deuce! I’m sorry I let our girls go; I’m just the man to deal with ’em.—Tra la la la.”
“Do you mean that you don’t propose to go to bed at all to-night?”
“I will go to bed when I please, you fox. Oh! I see that you’re in an ugly mood, I tell you. You are keeping something from us; Véronique’s story dried you up altogether, my poor Dufresne!”
“You villain, will you hold your tongue?” cried Dufresne, seizing Lampin by the throat; he struggled, stepped back and almost fell upon Edouard, who had fallen asleep in a corner of the room, and who, being awakened with a start, glanced about him in terror, crying: