“How do you call the island which you have immortalized by your valor?”
“The Fels Insel, sir.”
“Gentlemen, let us drink to the hero of the Fels Insel,” said he, holding up his glass for the servant to fill it. “A bumper—a full, a flowing bumper! And let him also pledge a toast, in which his interest must be so brief. Give him a glass, Contard.”
“His hands are tied, mon general.”
“Then free them at once.”
The order was obeyed in a second; and I, summoning up all my courage to seem as easy and indifferent as they were, lifted the glass to my lips, and drained it off.
“Another glass, now, to the health of this fair lady, through whose intercession we owe the pleasure of your company,” said the general.
“Willingly,” said I; “and may one so beautiful seldom find herself in a society so unworthy of her!”
A perfect roar of laughter succeeded the insolence of this speech; amid which I was half pushed, half dragged, up to the end of the table, where the general sat.
“How so, Coquin, do you dare to insult a French general, at the head of his own staff!”