"Talk business; I want a bottle of the best." So saying, Fourchon rapped a five-franc piece that gleamed in his hand on the old table at which he was seated,--which, with its coating of grease, its scorched black marks, its wine stains, and its gashes, was singular to behold.

At the sound of coin Marie Tonsard, as trig as a sloop about to start on a cruise, glanced at her grandfather with a covetous look that shot from her eyes like a spark.

La Tonsard came out of her bedroom, attracted by the music of metal.
"You are always rough to my poor father," she said to her husband, "and yet he has earned a deal of money this year; God grant he came by it honestly.

Let me see that," she added, springing at the coin and snatching it from Fourchon's fingers.
"Marie," said Tonsard, gravely, "above the board you'll find some bottled wine.

Go and get a bottle." Wine is of only one quality in the country, but it is sold as of two kinds,--cask wine and bottled wine.
"Where did you get this, papa" demanded La Tonsard, slipping the coin into her pocket.
"Philippine! you'll come to a bad end," said the old man, shaking his head but not attempting to recover his money.