"What business is it of yours, if it suits me to get drunk? I'm my own master, too. I haven't any woman now to bother me, and bore me to death. _Crédié!_ how I will make things hum now!" "That will be very pretty!" murmured Bastringuette. "He'll do some fine things. For my part, I don't want anything more to do with men who make beasts of themselves with drink! I prefer a sober lover--they're more refined in their love making." "Drink! drink! more wine, waiter!" cried Sans-Cravate, determined to befuddle himself still more, in order to avoid manifesting his chagrin over his rupture with his mistress. "That's the talk!" said Jean Ficelle. "Sound men never sulk! Let the maggoty ones go! we can do without 'em!" "O my friends!" cried Laboussole, in a sentimental tone, "when we are so comfortable together, we mustn't think of separating; let's stay here a week--what do you say? Good! we will!" Paul leaned over toward Bastringuette, and said in an undertone: "You are responsible for Sans-Cravate's getting drunk. He is drinking to forget the grief you have caused him by telling him that you meant to leave him! and it may result in some catastrophe." "What do I care? I'm done with him. I don't love him any more; I love somebody else, and that somebody else is you." Paul drew back without replying. At that moment, they heard roars of laughter in another part of the room, where the red-nosed carpenter, surrounded by drinkers, was saying: "Yes. I'll bet I can do it. Yes, I say, I'll bet I can, and that nobody else'll do it after me. Bah! you're a pack of cowards, you don't dare to bet!" "Ah! there's Cagnoux up to his tricks!" said Jean Ficelle; "challenging everybody, as usual." Sans-Cravate left his place and walked to the carpenter's table. "What is it you're going to do that the others won't do?" he asked. "That's a pretty good one! Do you think there's no cocks here of your size, Cagnoux?" "That's so," muttered Laboussole, emptying all the bottles into his glass; "yes, we're up to anything, we are! you'd better not defy us." The carpenter, who was completely drunk, succeeded in getting on his feet, nevertheless; and trying hard to stand without staggering, raised an enormous glass and said: "You see this glass, don't you? holds a pint. Just fill it with brandy, and I'll empty it at one draught; there ain't one of you smart enough to do as much." "Parbleu! that's a wonderful thing," cried Sans-Cravate; "to drink that glassful of brandy; that ain't very hard." "Sans-Cravate is quite capable of trying it," said Jean Ficelle, who also had left his seat, to join the bystanders. "Yes, I know him; he'll do it. If I hadn't a pain in the stomach, I'd do it myself." "I'll bet six quarts for the company that I'll drink that glassful of brandy at one draught, without stopping for breath; do you take me, old Cagnoux?" "Done!" replied the carpenter; "shake."