Defouqueblize was obviously elevated and had lost all sense of the proprieties. Lafcadio, for whom dry champagne had no terrors and who was amused at the other’s ingenuousness, ordered the waiter to uncork another bottle of Montebello. “No, no, not too much,” said Defouqueblize, as with a quavering hand he raised the glass which Lafcadio succeeded in filling to the brim. “It’s curious--I thought it so nasty at first. That’s the way with a great many things which one makes mountains of till one knows more about them. The fact is, I thought I was drinking St. Galmier, and you see I thought that for St. Galmier it had a very queer taste. If you were given St. Galmier now, when you thought you were drinking champagne, wouldn’t you say: ‘For champagne, it has a very queer taste’?...” He laughed at his own words, then bending across the table to Lafcadio, who was laughing too, he went on in a low voice: “I can’t think why I’m laughing so; it must be the fault of your wine. I suspect, all the same, it’s rather more heady than you make out. Eh! Eh! Eh! But you’ll take me back to my carriage? That’s agreed, isn’t it? If I behave indecently, you’ll know why.” “When one’s travelling,” hazarded Lafcadio, “there’s no fear of consequences.” “Oh!” replied the other at once, “all the things one would do in this life if there were no fear of consequences, as you justly remark! If one could only be sure that it wouldn’t lead to anything!... Why, merely what I’m saying to you just now--which, after all, is nothing but a very natural reflection--do you think I should venture to utter it without more disguise, if we were in Bordeaux, now? I say Bordeaux, because Bordeaux is where I live. I’m known there--respected. Not married, but well-to-do in a quiet little way; I’m in an honourable walk of life--Professor of Law at the Faculty of Bordeaux--yes, comparative criminology, a new chair.... You can see for yourself that when I’m there, I’m not allowed, actually not _allowed_, to get tipsy--not even once in a while, by accident. My life must be respectable. Just fancy! Supposing one of my pupils were to meet me in the street drunk!... Respectable! yes--and it mustn’t look as if it were forced; there’s the rub; one mustn’t make people think: ‘Monsieur Defouqueblize’ (my name, sir) ‘keeps a tight hand on himself--and a jolly good thing too.’ ... One must not only never _do_ anything out of the way, one must persuade other people that one _couldn’t_ do anything out of the way, even with all the licence in the world--that there’s nothing whatever out of the way in one, wanting to come out. Is there just a little more wine left? Only a drop or two, my dear accomplice, only a drop or two.... Such an opportunity doesn’t come twice in a lifetime. To-morrow, at the congress in Rome, I shall meet a number of my colleagues--grave, sober fellows, as tame, as disciplined, as stiffly self-restrained as I shall become myself, once I get back into harness again.