"Yes, my friend," said Dubourg, filling his glass with the oldest wine that the cellar of the inn contained; "I think you should certainly yield to your father's wish; and, on my word, all things considered, I don't see why I should retain my incognito any longer. We're a long way from Paris. I am done with it; I resume my titles, and I propose to be treated with the honors that are due me." "Oh! Dubourg, Dubourg! you will get us into some scrape," said Frédéric, in an undertone; but his friend paid no heed; he was excited by the wine, and he had never felt in such high spirits. He drank glass after glass, while Ménard, with a glutton's delight, helped himself to mushroom pie, the odor of which tickled his olfactory nerve. "What do you think of my plan, Monsieur Ménard?" "That has always been my wish, as you know, monsieur le baron." "It is settled; I am baron, palatine, et cetera; and we will make it manifest wherever we go." "Certainly, monsieur le baron; the nobility of your manners will always cause you to be recognized for what you are." "Bravo, Monsieur Ménard! spoken like a true boon companion! But as to Frédéric, he is unworthy to sit at our table. A little more of this hare, Monsieur Ménard?" "With pleasure, monsieur le baron." "We must be philosophical--when we can't help it; but true philosophy consists in making the most of life, in enjoying one's self whenever the opportunity offers. _Dulce est desipere in loco_, says Horace. Eh, Monsieur Ménard?" "Yes, monsieur le baron; but Juvenal advises infrequent indulgence in pleasures: _Voluptatis commendat rarior usus_." "Juvenal probably had a weak stomach." "That is very possible, monsieur le baron." "Another glass, Monsieur Ménard; to the memory of Anacreon, Epicurus, Horace, and all good livers!" "We forget Lucullus, monsieur le baron." "True; another bumper, to Lucullus!" By dint of drinking to the memory of the ancients, the two were beginning to lose all memory of the present. "Faith!" cried Dubourg, rising from the table; "I defy all the palatines of Rava, Cracow, and Krapach to eat a better supper!" "Take care what you are saying, you infernal babbler!" muttered Frédéric. "Never you fear," retorted Dubourg, speaking louder than ever; "I'll answer for everything, I tell you; and Papa Ménard is a man whom I esteem and love, and whose eyes I will close with pheasants or truffles."