"I am less excited than the others, and I am your friend; for heaven's sake, listen to me!"
"You're not my friend any more; besides, you broke your glass rather than drink with me—I haven't forgotten that."
"It wasn't you that I didn't want to drink with; it was Laboussole, and you'll see later whether I was right or not."
At that moment, there was a general cry of:
"The glass is full! Come, Sans-Cravate, now's the time to show what you're made of!"
"Here I am!" replied the messenger, roughly shaking himself clear of Paul's grasp and approaching the table on which stood the subject of the wager.
But Paul was too quick for him; he ran to the table, reached it first, and with the back of his hand knocked the glass to the floor, where it broke in a thousand pieces, and the brandy ran in all directions.
The young messenger's act was followed by a growl of dissatisfaction and menace. Some of the bystanders seemed to be dazed by the bare idea that a man could make up his mind to waste such an enormous quantity of the precious liquid; and Monsieur Laboussole, heedless of the danger of staining his trousers, instantly dropped on all fours, and, putting his tongue to the boards, tried to lap up a part of it.
But Sans-Cravate, beside himself with rage and crazy with drink, rushed at Paul and seized him around the waist, saying in a threatening tone:
"That's an insult! You meant to keep me from winning my bet, but you've got to give me satisfaction! We are going to fight, do you hear? Look out for yourself, for I shall strike hard!"