"Parbleu! messieurs, it is very amiable of us to listen to this discussion between Fouvenard and Balloquet as to which of them a woman would think the uglier; for my part, I prefer to demand an explanation of what Rochebrune said just now. He talked a long while, and I've no doubt he said some very nice things; but as I didn't quite understand him, I request an explanation of the picture, or the key to the riddle, if there is one."
"Yes, yes, the key; for I didn't understand him, either."
"Well, I did; I followed his reasoning: he says that a man can love a dozen women at once."
"A dozen! why not thirty-six? What Turks you are, messieurs! Rochebrune didn't say that."
"Yes, I did. Isn't it true?"
"Messieurs, I desire the floor."
"You may talk in a minute, Montricourt—after Rochebrune."
"A toast first of all, messieurs!"
"Oh! of course! When the host proposes a toast, we should be boors if we refused to honor it.—Fill the cups, waiter!"
"This is very pretty, drinking champagne from cups; it recalls the banquets of antiquity—those famous feasts that Lucullus gave in the hall of Apollo, or of Mars."