drinking the last glassful the bottle contained, "and
I've played the sham otter so long, the live otters have got angry, and
one of them came right between my legs to-day; Mouche caught it, and I
am to get twenty francs for it."

"I'll bet your otter is made of tow," said Tonsard, looking slyly at his
father-in-law.

"If you will give me a pair of trousers, a waistcoat, and some list
braces, so as not to disgrace Vermichel on the music stand at Tivoli
(for old Socquard is always scolding about my clothes), I'll let you
keep that money, my daughter; your idea is a good one. I can squeeze
that rich young fellow at Les Aigues; may be he'll take to otters."

"Go and get another bottle," said Tonsard to his daughter. "If your
father really had an otter, he would show it to us," he added, speaking
to his wife and trying to touch up Fourchon.

"I'm too afraid it would get into your frying-pan," said the old man,
winking one of his little green eyes at his daughter. "Philippine has
already hooked my five-franc piece; and how many more haven't you bagged
under pretence of clothing me and feeding me? and now you say that my
stomach is too lively, and that I go half-naked."

"You sold your last clothes to drink boiled wine at the Cafe de la Paix,
papa," said his daughter, "though Vermichel tried to prevent it."

"Vermichel! the man I treated! Vermichel is incapable of betraying my
friendship. It must have been that lump of old lard on two legs that he
is not ashamed to call his wife!"

"He or she," replied Tonsard, "or Bonnebault."

"If it was Bonnebault," cried Fourchon, "he who is one of the pillars of
the place, I'll--I'll--Enough!"

"You old sot, what has all that got to do with having sold your clothes?
You sold them because you did sell them; you're of age!" said Tonsard,
slapping the old man's knee. "Come, do honor to my drink and redden up
your throat! The father of Mam Tonsard has a right to do so; and isn't
that better than spending your silver at Socquard's?"

"What a shame it is that you have been fifteen years playing for people
to dance at Tivoli and you have never yet found out how Socquard cooks
his wine,--you who are so shrewd!" said his daughter; "and yet you
know very well that if we had the secret we should soon get as rich as
Rigou."

Throughout the Morvan, and in that region of Burgundy which lies at its
feet on the side toward Paris, this boiled wine with which Mam Tonsard
reproached her father