Chaudoreille no longer budged. With his eyes fixed attentively on his own glass and that of his adversary, he waited impatiently for a fly to come and taste the sweet liqueur. Neither of them made a movement, for fear of frightening the winged insects. They had already remained motionless for five minutes before their glasses when Marcel sneezed. "The devil confound you?" cried Chaudoreille. "You drove away the most beautiful fly which was approaching my glass. She was just going in." "Is it my fault if I feel a desire to sneeze?" "It is a trick, my dear fellow, and, in all conscience, you should lose the game. "You are joking, no doubt." "Well I will pass over the sneeze, but if you begin again that will count. Wait! The flies are coming." They observed silence anew. From time to time Chaudoreille looked into the air and seemed to implore the flies to come and taste his liqueur. At last, after some minutes of waiting, a fly sipped from Marcel's glass. "I have won," cried the latter. "One moment," said Chaudoreille, spitefully stamping his foot. "Leave me to judge of this affair." "It seems to me that there is nothing equivocal about it. The fly is still in my glass." "But I am anxious to know if it is really a fly. I am not going to lose a crown for a pig in a poke." Chaudoreille arose and advanced his head, that he might look more closely into the glass which was before Marcel, but no sooner had he by this movement approached his host than he cried, carrying his hand to his nose,-- "The game is off. There is nothing more to be done." "This is to say," cried Marcel, in his turn rising from the table. "I repeat, the game is off." "And why?" "Why, by jingo, because your breath is strong enough to make flies fall in their flight. After that you see the game is not equal." "Chaudoreille, I will take the thing as a joke, and I don't care about winning your money, but I flatter myself that I have a breath at least as fresh as yours." "Take the thing as a joke?" said the chevalier, putting his hand on the handle of his sword. "Do you wish to vex me? By jingo, if I had known." "Come, come, calm yourself." "Do you think I will suffer such injuries. By Rolande, I don't know how to hold myself." "Will you soon be done?" "By George! If I believed that you wish to molest me, as if I care about a crown; if I had lost a hundred I should have paid you just the same." "That is all right. Leave all that."