It was no farce, but a real thing.
"Swear," he said again.

"Raise your right hand." "Done!" said Muroc.

"To the devil with the charcoal! I'll go wash my face." "There's my hand on it," added Duclosse; "but that rascal Petrie will get my trade, and I'd rather be strung by the Orleans than that." "Till I've no more wind in my bellows!" responded Lajeunesse, raising his hand, "if he keeps faith with my Madelinette." "On the honour of a soldier," said Lagroin, and he crossed himself.
"God save us all!" said Parpon.

Obeying a motion of the dwarf's hand, Lagroin drew from his pocket a flask of cognac, with four little tin cups fitting into each other.

Handing one to each, he poured them brimming full.