"He is quite capable of keeping out of danger or getting into it, as the fancy suits him, if he is the man I once knew," remarked Tournay.
Gaillard filled the glasses again. "Let us not talk about him in too loud a tone," he said, "but quietly pledge him in his own Burgundy."
Tournay took the proffered glass. The gentle gurgle down two throats told that St. Hilaire's health was drunk fervently if silently.
"With your permission I will propose a toast," said Tournay, as Gaillard emptied the last of the bottle into their glasses. The actor nodded.
"To the French Republic," exclaimed Tournay. "May victory still perch upon her banners."
"To the Republic," echoed Gaillard.
Again the glasses clinked over the small wooden table.
"As long as we have victory," continued Tournay, "what care we whether we be colonels, generals, or soldiers of the line? Our victories are the nation's. All are sharers in its glory."
"Long live the Republic!" they cried in concert, and set down their empty wineglasses.
"Now I must fly to the theatre," exclaimed Gaillard; "you have made me late with your republics"—