earlessly. "Let him spare
those who wish to live, and kill together those who dread to part!"

Jacques and Cephyse exchanged a rapid glance, unnoticed by their joyous
companions, and for some time the Bacchanal Queen remained silent and
thoughtful.

"If you put it that way, it is different," cried Rose-Pompon, boldly.
"To the Cholera! may none but good fellows be left on earth!"

In spite of this variation, the impression was still painfully
impressive. Dumoulin, wishing to cut short this gloomy subject,
exclaimed: "Devil take the dead, and long live the living! And, talking
of chaps who both live and live well, I ask you to drink a health most
dear to our joyous queen, the health of our Amphitryon. Unfortunately,
I do not know his respectable name, having only had the advantage
of making his acquaintance this night; he will excuse me, then, if I
confine myself to proposing the health of Sleepinbuff--a name by no
means offensive to my modesty, as Adam never slept in any other manner.
I drink to Sleepinbuff."

"Thanks, old son!" said Jacques, gayly; "were I to forget your name, I
should call you 'Have-a-sip?' and I am sure that you would answer: 'I
will.'"

"I will directly!" said Dumoulin, making the military salute with one
hand, and holding out the bowl with the other.

"As we have drunk together," resumed Sleepinbuff, cordially, "we ought
to know each other thoroughly. I am Jacques Rennepont?"

"Rennepont!" cried Dumoulin, who appeared struck by the name, in spite
of his half-drunkenness; "you are Rennepont?"

"Rennepont in the fullest sense of the word. Does that astonish you?"

"There is a very ancient family of that name--the Counts of Rennepont."

"The deuce there is!" said the other, laughing.

"The Counts of Rennepont are also Dukes of Cardoville," added Dumoulin.

"Now, come, old fellow! do I look as if I belonged to such a family?--I,
a workman out for a spree?"

"You a workman? why, we are getting into the Arabian Nights!" cried
Dumoulin, more and more surprised. "You give us a Belshazzar's banquet,
with accompaniment of carriages and four, and yet are a workman? Only
tell me your trade, and I will join you, leaving the Vine of the Divine
to take care of itself."

"Come, I say! don't think that I am a printer of flimsies, and a
smasher!" replied Jacques, laughing.

"Oh, comrade! no such suspicion--"

"It would be excusable, seeing the rigs I run. But I'll make you easy on
that point. I am