“You will see, they will understand each other at last,” said Bixiou, guessing what du Tillet had said to Rastignac. “Sir Baronet, I have imagined a speculation--oh! a very comfortable job--bocou profitable and rich in profits----” “Now you will see,” said Blondet to du Tillet, “he will not talk one minute without dragging in the Parliament and the English Government.” “It is in China, in the opium trade----” “Ja, I know,” said Nucingen at once, as a man who is well acquainted with commercial geography. “But de English Gover’ment hafe taken up de opium trate as a means dat shall open up China, and she shall not allow dat ve----” “Nucingen has cut him out with the Government,” remarked du Tillet to Blondet. “Ah! you have been in the opium trade!” cried Madame du Val-Noble. “Now I understand why you are so narcotic; some has stuck in your soul.” “Dere! you see!” cried the Baron to the self-styled opium merchant, and pointing to Madame du Val-Noble. “You are like me. Never shall a millionaire be able to make a voman lofe him.” “I have loved much and often, milady,” replied Peyrade. “As a result of temperance,” said Bixiou, who had just seen Peyrade finish his third bottle of claret, and now had a bottle of port wine uncorked. “Oh!” cried Peyrade, “it is very fine, the Portugal of England.” Blondet, du Tillet, and Bixiou smiled at each other. Peyrade had the power of travestying everything, even his wit. There are very few Englishmen who will not maintain that gold and silver are better in England than elsewhere. The fowls and eggs exported from Normandy to the London market enable the English to maintain that the poultry and eggs in London are superior (very fine) to those of Paris, which come from the same district. Esther and Lucien were dumfounded by this perfection of costume, language, and audacity. They all ate and drank so well and so heartily, while talking and laughing, that it went on till four in the morning. Bixiou flattered himself that he had achieved one of the victories so pleasantly related by Brillat-Savarin. But at the moment when he was saying to himself, as he offered his “uncle” some more wine, “I have vanquished England!” Peyrade replied in good French to this malicious scoffer, “Toujours, mon garcon” (Go it, my boy), which no one heard but Bixiou. “Hallo, good men all, he is as English as I am!--My uncle is a Gascon! I could have no other!” Bixiou and Peyrade were alone, so no one heard this announcement. Peyrade rolled off his chair on to the floor. Paccard forthwith picked him up and carried him to an attic, where he fell sound asleep. At six o’clock next evening, the Nabob was roused by the application of a wet cloth, with which his face was being washed, and awoke to find himself on a camp-bed, face to face with Asie, wearing a mask and a black domino. “Well, Papa Peyrade, you and I have to settle accounts,” said she. “Where am I?” asked he, looking about him.