"Nor I," said another. "Nor I," was repeated on all sides. The guest, naturally embarrassed at this rudeness, got up, and was about to retire, when Alfonse, to whom he came as an _umbra_, proposed an ingenious expedient for doing away with the evil augury, and said, "There is one way of annulling the proverb that threatens death in the course of the year to one of a party of thirteen; that way is, to decide which of us shall fight a duel this evening, or to-morrow morning." "Done!" cried all the students at a breath. "Shall it be among ourselves?" said one of them. "No," replied the author of the proposition; "for then two of us would have to fight, whereas it ought to be the thirteenth." "Right," said all the young men. "Then let it be with one of the officers of the garrison." "Be it so," said Alfonse; "we will make a pool, as usual, at the _café_, all thirteen of us; and----" "The first out," said the student. "No," interrupted Alfonse, "that would be a bad omen; it shall be the winner." "Agreed!" replied all, and they sate down to table with as much gaiety and _insouciance_ as if nothing had been said. The stranger, just as the soup was being put on the table, got up, and with a magisterial tone of voice addressed the assembly. "Gentlemen," said he, "I feel suddenly inspired with a sublime idea. We are about to eat and drink in the ruins of Roman greatness (alluding to the amphitheatre). Let us imitate that people in every thing that is great. Nothing could be more splendid than the games of the gladiators which were celebrated over the tombs of the mighty dead,--nothing more sumptuous than the festivals held at their funerals. This is probably also a funereal fête; with this difference, that it is held before, and not after death. Let Poitiers therefore rival Rome in her magnificence; let this _cena_ be in honour of the mighty remains over which we are sitting; let it be _morituro_,--sacred to him who is about to perish." "Bravo!" exclaimed the guests one and all; "a splendid idea, by Jove!--a splendid _cena_ be it!" "Open the windows!" cried Alfonse. The windows were opened. As soon as the soup was served, smash went all the plates into the yard, and shivered against the pavement. So, during the rest of dinner, every plate as fast as it was cleared, every bottle as soon as emptied, followed their fellows. One might perceive, by the practised dexterity of this feat, that it was not the first time they had played the same game. During the first course nothing particular occurred to disturb their harmony; but it so happened that the _rôti_, which is, as you know, in France always served last, was burnt. Then there arose a general burst of indignation. "Send the cook!" exclaimed they all to the waiters. "Order up the cook! Here, cook! cook!" was the universal cry. But the _chef_ was not forthcoming. Alfonse, the president, then said, "Must I go myself and fetch him?"