to
overcome the noise of voices and the rattling of dominoes on the marble
tables.

Jeremie and Mathurin sat down in a corner and began a game, and the
glasses were emptied in rapid succession into their thirsty throats.

Then they played more games and drank more glasses. Mathurin kept
pouring and winking to the saloon keeper, a big, red-faced man, who
chuckled as though at the thought of some fine joke; and Jeremie
kept absorbing alcohol and wagging his head, giving vent to a roar
of laughter and looking at his comrade with a stupid and contented
expression.

All the customers were going away. Every time that one of them would
open the door to leave a gust of wind would blow into the cafe, making
the tobacco smoke swirl around, swinging the lamps at the end of their
chains and making their flames flicker, and suddenly one could hear the
deep booming of a breaking wave and the moaning of the wind.

Jeremie, his collar unbuttoned, was taking drunkard's poses, one leg
outstretched, one arm hanging down and in the other hand holding a
domino.

They were alone now with the owner, who had come up to them, interested.

He asked:

"Well, Jeremie, how goes it inside? Feel less thirsty after wetting your
throat?"

Jeremie muttered:

"The more I wet it, the drier it gets inside."

The innkeeper cast a sly glance at Mathurin. He said:

"And your brother, Mathurin, where's he now?"

The sailor laughed silently:

"Don't worry; he's warm, all right."

And both of them looked toward Jeremie, who was triumphantly putting
down the double six and announcing:

"Game!"

Then the owner declared:

"Well, boys, I'm goin' to bed. I will leave you the lamp and the bottle;
there's twenty cents' worth in it. Lock the door when you go, Mathurin,
and slip the key under the mat the way you did the other night."

Mathurin answered:

"Don't worry; it'll be all right."

Paumelle shook hands with his two customers and slowly went up the
wooden stairs. For several minutes his heavy step echoed through the
little house. Then a loud creaking announced that he had got into bed.

The two men continued to play. From time to time a more violent gust of
wind would shake the whole house, and the two drinkers would look up, as
though some one were about to enter. Then Mathurin would take the bottle
and fill Jeremie's glass. But suddenly the clock over the bar struck
twelve. Its hoarse clang sounded like the rattling of saucepans. Th