Three gentlemen were seated at one of the tables in a low, smoky room.

They had already emptied several bottles, and one of them seemed to have just suggested some madcap scheme to the others, the thought of which sent them off into shouts of laughter.
"Pardu!" said one of them, who was the first to recover his breath, "I must say it would be an excellent trick." "Splendid!" said another; "and if you like, Commander de Jars, we can try it this very evening." "All right, my worthy king's treasurer, provided my pretty nephew here won't be too much shocked," and as he spoke de Jars gave to the youngest of the three a caressing touch on the cheek with the back of his hand.
"That reminds me, de Jars!" said the treasurer, "that word you have just said piques my curiosity.

For some months now this little fellow here, Chevalier de Moranges, follows you about everywhere like your shadow.
You never told us you had a nephew.

Where the devil did you get him ?" The commander touched the chevalier's knee under the table, and he, as if to avoid speaking, slowly filled and emptied his glass.
"Look here," said the treasurer, "do you want to hear a few plain words, such as I shall rap out when God takes me to task about the peccadilloes of my past life?
I don't believe a word about the relationship.

A nephew must be the son of either a brother or a sister.