They had got far more than they could fairly take on board, and, every now and then, they treated one of the watchmen to something as he passed.
The only flaw in their pleasure was that Gabriel could not be with them.
He had been obliged to tell them that the Consul was ill, and that he must, therefore, remain in the house.

No one thought of accusing Gabriel of pride, and they all drank his health, and as many other healths as they could find an excuse for, in bumpers of the wine to which they were so little accustomed.

Of the food which had been given to them, they ate as much as they could, and when they could eat no more, they divided the remainder by lot, just as they shared the shavings for their fires, laughing the whole time heartily at the sport.

Then away they all wandered homewards to the West End, carrying sausages, chickens, bottles of wine, and other delicacies.

The sun was just rising over the corner of the mountain to the east of the town, and lit up the window-panes of the cottages, till it looked as if the whole West End was illuminated.
That morning there was not a wife who had the heart to find fault with her husband because he had had a little drop too much.