“I am the one who pays!”
“What?”
“For the wine.”
“What wine?”
“That Argenteuil wine.”
“Where is the Argenteuil?”
“At the Bon Coing.”
“Go to the devil!” said the grave-digger.
And he flung a shovelful of earth on the coffin.
The coffin gave back a hollow sound. Fauchelevent felt himself stagger and on the point of falling headlong into the grave himself. He shouted in a voice in which the strangling sound of the death rattle began to mingle:—