I make you a wager." "On what ?" "There are eight candles on your side of the table, eight on mine.

I will undertake to snuff mine in less time than it takes you to snuff yours.

Say fifty pistoles to make it interesting." "Done!" said the vicomte.
Perhaps Victor was the soberest man among them, next to the vicomte, who had jestingly been accused of having hollow bones, so marvelous was his capacity for wine and the art of concealing the effects.

Several times the poet had crossed the vicomte's glance as it was leveled in the Chevalier's direction.

Each time the vicomte's lips had been twisted into a half smile which was not unmixed with pitying contempt.