"He is right. Haven’t kings been known to marry shepherdesses? The ancients weren’t so proud as we are. Did not Shechem, the son of King Hamor, marry Dinah, the shepherd Jacob’s daughter? Did not one of the Pharaohs of Egypt fall in love with Sarah, a shepherd’s sister?"
"Very good! in that case, long live the grisettes! I know of no one like a grisette for the combination of love and dancing; for patching your breeches when you tear them, for keeping your breakfast hot in the morning and lighting your lamp at night. Just go and ask some fine lady of fashion, such as I saw here to-night, to sew on a button or mend your suspenders—you’d be well received, wouldn’t you?—Long live the grisettes! I stick to that!"
"Long live the grisettes!" echoed the young men, laughing; and they plied Robineau with drink, because he was beginning not to know what he was saying, and that greatly entertained the young men, especially Alfred, who was not sorry to hear him contradict, when he was drunk, the lies into which his self-conceit had led him when he was sober.—Liars should never drink too much. The old proverb, in vino veritas, is true. How many people there are who would make fools of themselves in their cups, if they did not take care to keep sober! What reckless admissions, what piquant confessions we should hear, if—But the ladies never get tipsy!
"So it seems, Robineau, you’ve a very pretty milliner for a mistress?" said Alfred, filling his friend’s glass.
"Pretty, messieurs! Why, I don’t mean to say that her face is absolutely beyond criticism; and there are some defects in the contour, too. But her figure! oh! it’s like a model! If she was here, I’d have her stand up on this table, so that you could admire her. In short, she is Fifine! that tells the whole story!"
"Ah! her name is Fifine, is it?"
"Yes, messieurs; a charming girl! a regular dragon! who has never been able to resist an invitation to drink,—that is when she took a fancy to the man."
"And she took a fancy to you at once, I suppose?"
"Oh, yes! instantly; that is to say, she made me run about a good deal. And the boxes I carried! and the rolls I paid for! How I did pay for them! She is decidedly fond of rolls, is Fifine.—No matter; here’s her health, messieurs!"
"Fifine’s health!" replied the young men. This toast moved Robineau to tears; he took out his handkerchief to wipe his eyes, and pulled from his pocket with it, and scattered about the floor and on the table, all the cakes he had purloined, which had became as flat as pie crust. The young men roared with laughter, and Alfred emptied Robineau’s other pocket on his plate, crying: