‘Ah, that’s much better,’ remarked M. Vandeloup, sitting up to the table, and unrolling his napkin. ‘I assure you, my dear fellow, if you treat me well, I’m a very easy person to deal with.’ The eyes of the two men met for a moment across the table, and Vandeloup’s had such a meaning look in them, that Meddlechip dropped his own with a shiver. The door opened, and the billowy waiter rolled up to the table, and having left a deposit of plates and food thereon, subsided once more out of the door, then rolled in again with the champagne. He drew the cork of one of the bottles, filled the glasses on the table, and then after giving a glance round to see that all was in order, suddenly found that it was ebb-tide, and rolled slowly out of the door, which he closed after him. Meddlechip ate his supper in silence, but drank a good deal of champagne to keep his courage up for the coming ordeal, which he knew he must go through. Vandeloup, on the other hand, ate and drank very little, as he talked gaily all the time about theatres, racing, boating, in fact of everything except the thing the other man wanted to hear. ‘I never mix up business with pleasure, my dear fellow,’ said Gaston, amiably, guessing his companion’s thoughts; ‘when we have finished supper and are enjoying our cigars, I will tell you a little story.’ ‘I don’t want to hear it,’ retorted the other, harshly, having an intuitive idea what the story would be about. ‘Possibly not,’ replied M. Vandeloup, smoothly; ‘nevertheless it is my wish that you should hear it.’ Meddlechip looked as if he were inclined to resent this plain speaking, but after a pause evidently thought better of it, and went on tranquilly eating his supper. When they had finished Gaston rang the bell, and when the billow rolled in, ordered a fresh bottle of wine and some choice cigars of a brand well known at Leslie’s. Gurchy’s head disappeared in foam again, and did not emerge therefrom till he was out of the door. Try one of these,’ said M. Vandeloup, affably, to Meddlechip, when the billow had rolled in with the cigars and wine, ‘it’s an excellent brand.’ ‘I don’t care about smoking,’ answered Meddlechip. ‘To please me,’ urged M. Vandeloup, persuasively; whereupon Meddlechip took one, and having lighted it puffed away evidently under protest, while the billow opened the new bottle of wine, freshened up the glasses, and then rolled majestically out of the door, like a tidal wave. ‘Now then for the story,’ said M. Vandeloup, leaning back luxuriously on the sofa, and blowing a cloud of smoke. ‘I don’t want to hear it,’ retorted the other, quickly; ‘name your terms and let us end the matter.’ ‘Pardon me,’ said M. Vandeloup, with a smile, ‘but I refuse to accept any terms till I have given you thoroughly to understand what I mean; so you must hear this little tale of Adele Blondet.’