Name of misfortune! I had gone into a nunnery had I lost such a man.

But she--" The voice of Margot shrilled out and cut into her words.

"Absinthe, Marise, absinthe for them all--and set the score down to me!" she cried.
"Drink up, my bonny boys; drink up, my loyal maids.

Drink--drink till your skins will hold no more.

No one pays to-night but me!" They broke into a cheer, and bearing down in a body upon Marise, threw her into a fever of haste to serve them.
"To Margot!" they shouted, catching up the glasses and lifting them high.