There were several of us in the coffee-room at the Green Man one evening, and he, full of wine and malice, was heaping insults upon the French, his eyes creeping round to me every moment to see how I was taking it.

'Now, Monsieur de Laval,' he cried, putting his rude hand upon my shoulder, 'here is a toast for you to drink.

This is to the arm of Nelson which strikes down the French.' He stood leering at me to see if I would drink it.

'Well, sir,' said I, 'I will drink your toast if you will drink mine in return.' 'Come on, then!' said he.

So we drank.