And now the boy shall uncork some champagne, shall he not?
to drink to the health of love!" Maurice was cynical, but this exposition of his philosophy served a good purpose all the same.

Everybody applauded him.

The prestidigitateur, who moved about the table like a schoolboy in a monkey-house, drew the cork from a bottle of Roederer--it was astonishing that fireworks did not dart out of it--and good-humor was restored.

It reigned noisily until the end of the repast, when the effect was spoiled by that fool of a Gustave.

He insisted upon drinking three glasses of kummel--why had they not poured in maple sirup ?--and, imagining that Jocquelet looked at him askance, he suddenly manifested the intention of cutting his head open with the carafe.