“But why do you stand behind me, my good Jasmin? It is altogether too fatiguing for a man of your years. Sit in the corner yonder; I will call you if I should need you!” “The idea of it!” said Jasmin, trying to stand erect. “Does monsieur think that I do not know my duty? I will not quit my post, monsieur; I will die first!” “In other words, all the landlord’s crockery will die!” said Daréna, laughingly.--”Honor to unlucky pluck!” he added aloud, raising his glass. “This old servant’s attachment is greatly to his credit and to his master’s,” said Monfréville, “I propose a toast to fidelity; it is so rare that we cannot do it too much honor, in whatever guise it appears.” The toast was drunk with enthusiasm by the company. Monsieur d’Hurbain proposed a toast to the late Monsieur de Grandvilain, and Daréna to the ballet dancers at the Opéra. Monsieur Gérondif rose and exclaimed with great earnestness: “To the progress of the culinary art in France! The old Romans may have had more dishes than we on their tables, but probably they were less satisfying.” Mademoiselle Malvina, determined to propose a toast of her own, raised her glass and cried: “I _toast_ for very long ballets and very short skirts, in the interest of the dancers and of everybody who likes a high kick.” None of the ladies chose to lag behind; Cœlina drank to her squirrel’s health, Rosina to her cat’s, and Fœdora to her cousin’s, who was in the Chasseurs d’Afrique. Monsieur Poterne drank to nobody’s health, but he kept his back turned to the table, and swallowed an appalling quantity of champagne. A terrible crash interrupted the toasts: Jasmin had dropped a pile of plates that time, and the floor was strewn with débris of crockery. “This will be rather an expensive dinner,” said Daréna; “one must needs be very rich to indulge in such servants as this old Jasmin.” Meanwhile the frequent toasts had excited the guests to some extent. Malvina, who could not keep still, began to dance a very pronounced cancan; Cœlina and Rosina attempted the Cracovienne; Fœdora waltzed with Daréna, and Monsieur Gérondif, finding that everything about him was in a whirl, although he did not leave his chair, called loudly upon Malvina for a second performance of the Mozambique dance, with all its accessories. Monsieur d’Hurbain, who had retained his presence of mind, thought that it was time to take Chérubin away; he took the young marquis’s arm, motioned to Monfréville, and to the tutor, who left the table with regret, and, picking out a path through the broken crockery, they left the restaurant and entered a carriage which took them to the hôtel de Grandvilain, not observing that Jasmin, who had followed them, had succeeded in climbing up behind, with the assistance of a messenger. “Aren’t we going back to Gagny?” inquired Chérubin, when he found himself in the carriage.