"That's a lie!"—said the metaphysician, for the wine had gotten a little into his head.
"Very well!—very well, sir!—very well indeed, sir"—said his majesty.
"That's a lie!"—repeated the Restaurateur dogmatically—"that's a—hiccup!—lie!"
"Well, well! have it your own way"—said the devil pacifically: and Bon-Bon, having beaten his majesty at an argument, thought it his duty to conclude a second bottle of Chambertin.
"As I was saying"—resumed the visiter—"as I was observing a little while ago, there are some very outré notions in that book of yours, Monsieur Bon-Bon. What, for instance, do you mean by all that humbug about the soul? Pray, sir, what is the soul?"
"The—hiccup!—soul"—replied the metaphysician, referring to his MS. "is undoubtedly"—
"No, sir!"
"Indubitably"—
"No, sir!"
"Indisputably"—