“Most exquisite Chiffinch, thou art turned micher as well as padder--Canst both rob a man and kidnap him!” “Micher and padder--what terms be these?” said Chiffinch. “Methinks these are sounds to lug out upon. You will have me angry to the degree of falling foul--robber and kidnapper!” “You mistake verb for noun-substantive,” replied his lordship; “I said _rob_ and _kidnap_--a man may do either once and away without being professional.” “But not without spilling a little foolish noble blood, or some such red-coloured gear,” said Chiffinch, starting up. “Oh yes,” said his lordship; “all this may be without these dire consequences, and as you will find to-morrow, when you return to England; for at present you are in the land of Champagne, Chiffie; and that you may continue so, I drink thee this parting cup to line thy nightcap.” “I do not refuse your pledge,” said Chiffinch; “but I drink to thee in dudgeon and in hostility--It is cup of wrath, and a gage of battle. To-morrow, by dawn, I will have thee at point of fox, wert thou the last of the Savilles.--What the devil! think you I fear you because you are a lord?” “Not so, Chiffinch,” answered his companion. “I know thou fearest nothing but beans and bacon, washed down with bumpkin-like beer.--Adieu, sweet Chiffinch--to bed--Chiffinch--to bed.” So saying, he lifted a candle, and left the apartment. And Chiffinch, whom the last draught had nearly overpowered, had just strength enough left to do the same, muttering, as he staggered out, “Yes, he shall answer it.--Dawn of day? D--n me--It is come already--Yonder’s the dawn--No, d--n me, ‘tis the fire glancing on the cursed red lattice--It is the smell of the brandy in this cursed room--It could not be the wine--Well, old Rowley shall send me no more errands to the country again--Steady, steady.” So saying, he reeled out of the apartment, leaving Peveril to think over the extraordinary conversation he had just heard.