My glass was empty. For a moment I was tempted to hurl it at the head of the Fellow in History. But what of it? I filled it and emptied it again. "Morhange will miss this delicious roast of mutton," said the Professor, more and more hilarious, as he awarded himself a thick slice of meat. "He won't regret it," said the Hetman crossly. "This is not roast; it is ram's horn. Really Koukou is beginning to make fun of us." "Blame it on the Reverend," the shrill voice of Le Mesge cut in. "I have told him often enough to hunt other proselytes and leave our cook alone." "Professor," Spardek began with dignity. "I maintain my contention," cried Le Mesge, who seemed to me to be getting a bit overloaded. "I call the gentleman to witness," he went on, turning to me. "He has just come. He is unbiased. Therefore I ask him: has one the right to spoil a Bambara cook by addling his head with theological discussions for which he has no predisposition?" "Alas!" the pastor replied sadly. "You are mistaken. He has only too strong a propensity to controversy." "Koukou is a good-for-nothing who uses Colas' cow as an excuse for doing nothing and letting our scallops burn," declared the Hetman. "Long live the Pope!" he cried, filling the glasses all around. "I assure you that this Bambara worries me," Spardek went on with great dignity. "Do you know what he has come to? He denies transubstantiation. He is within an inch of the heresy of Zwingli and Oecolampades. Koukou denies transubstantiation." "Sir," said Le Mesge, very much excited, "cooks should be left in peace. Jesus, whom I consider as good a theologian as you, understood that, and it never occurred to him to call Martha away from her oven to talk nonsense to her." "Exactly so," said the Hetman approvingly. He was holding a jar between his knees and trying to draw its cork. "Oh, Côtes Rôties, wines from the Côte-Rôtie!" he murmured to me as he finally succeeded. "Touch glasses." "Koukou denies transubstantiation," the pastor continued, sadly emptying his glass. "Eh!" said the Hetman of Jitomir in my ear, "let them talk on. Don't you see that they are quite drunk?" His own voice was thick. He had the greatest difficulty in the world in filling my goblet to the brim. I wanted to push the pitcher away. Then an idea came to me: "At this very moment, Morhange.... Whatever he may say.... She is so beautiful." I reached out for the glass and emptied it once more. Le Mesge and the pastor were now engaged in the most extraordinary religious controversy, throwing at each other's heads the Book of Common Prayer, The Declaration of the Rights of Man, and the Unigenitus. Little by little, the Hetman began to show that ascendancy over them, which is the characteristic of a man of the world even when he is thoroughly drunk; the superiority of education over instruction. Count Bielowsky had drunk five times as much as the Professor or the pastor. But he carried his wine ten times better.