I called for two or three bottles of better wine, and, assuming a
jovial air, passed it round the table. When we had drunk a few
glasses I fell to talking, and, choosing politics, took the side
of the Languedoc party and the malcontents in so reckless a
fashion that the innkeeper was beside himself at my imprudence.
The merchants, who belonged to the class with whom the Cardinal
was always most popular, looked first astonished and then
enraged. But I was not to be checked; hints and sour looks were
lost upon me. I grew more outspoken with every glass, I drank to
the Rochellois, I swore it would not be long before they raised
their heads again; and, at last, while the innkeeper and his wife
were engaged lighting the lamp, I passed round the bottle and
called on all for a toast.

'I'll give you one to begin,' I bragged noisily. 'A gentleman's
toast! A southern toast! Here is confusion to the Cardinal, and
a health to all who hate him!'

'MON DIEU!' one of the strangers cried, springing from his seat
in a rage. 'I am not going to stomach that! Is your house a
common treason-hole,' he continued, turning furiously on the
landlord, 'that you suffer this?'

'Hoity-toity!' I answered, coolly keeping my seat. 'What is all
this? Don't you relish my toast, little man?'

'No--nor you!' he retorted hotly; 'whoever you may be!'

'Then I will give you another,' I answered, with a hiccough.