"I implore you, kind friend, to honour me with your presence this evening. The greatest day of my life shall be this one if you but consent to grace my board with your lovely lady. And poor Madame Rousseau and her amiable husband shall not be the ghosts at the feast, as one might suspect, but joyful spirits. To them we will drink a toast of good will and better luck next time, and they may drink to you, madame and sir, the health of one grand Napoleon Bingle, in whose past they both shared but whose future can only be a--" "Oh, I say, Rouquin," broke in Monsieur Jean languidly, "why not make it 'many happy returns of the day'? That's the real issue." Rouquin coughed violently, and, upon recovering himself, went on with a slight modification of his rapture: "Whatever should come of this day's work, we should all drink deeply to the health, prosperity and fame of a future president of the United States--Napoleon Bingle! Come, Madame Bingle, you cannot refuse to join your humble servant and petitioner in one jolly, epoch-making--though absolutely respectable--celebration in honour of our little Napoleon. And you, M'sieur--Ah, you, sir! Have you not in prospect the alliance of your own honoured name with that of the most notable Frenchman of recent times? Napoleon! Bingle! Ah, think of it! Bingle--Napoleon! We can afford to overlook the fact that Napoleon was a Corsican and not a--real Frenchman. We can--" "Just as we must overlook the fact that little Napoleon is a Rousseau and not a Bingle," said Mr. Bingle drily. "Quite so, quite so," agreed Rouquin hastily. "Napoleon Bonaparte was the adopted son of France, and Napoleon Rousseau is the adopted son of the great Thomas Bingleton Single--" "Singleton Bingle," corrected Mr. Bingle, as Rouquin hesitated in evident appreciation of his mixed consonants. "I am sure Madame Rousseau will not feel like joining in a feast at this time," said Mrs. Bingle. "It is hardly an occasion for jollification--" "Ah, Madame," cried Madame Rousseau, with sparkling eyes, "it is not for myself that I would jollify, but for the adored Napoleon. It is for him that I would rejoice. Is he not to become rich and honoured, and is he not to be given by law a name that he can never be ashamed of as long as he--" Rouquin broke in again, hastily and somewhat apprehensively. "Let us save our fine phrases for the banquet board. Ah, I can see it in M'sieur Bingle's face! He will accept my little hospitality. He will come with Madame to Pierre's. He will make me to be forever honoured among men. He--" "I'll come on one condition only, Rouquin." "And what is that, M'sieur?" "That I may settle the bill."