That dreadful word '_Chateau-margaux_' rang in his ears.

His face blushed and grew pale, and a cold, clammy sweat stood in big beads on his forehead.

Yet he felt that he had not entirely exhausted his resources, and resolved to fight the battle of humiliation to the end.

He wiped his brow and cheeks, coughed, and turned aside as if about to sneeze.

By dint of these manoeuvres he continued to conceal his nervousness till Denecker grasped the bottle to pour out its last drop.