"Ouf! Who wants that?
If one had a few bidons of brandy, now----" "Brandy?
Oh, ha! you are to be much more of aristocrats now than that!" cried Cigarette, with an immeasurable satire curling on her rosy piquant lips.

"The Silver Pheasants have taken to patronize you.

If I were you, I would not touch a glass, nor eat a fig; you will not, if you have the spirit of a rabbit.

You! Fed like dogs with the leavings of her table--pardieu! That is not for soldiers of France!" "What dost thou say ?" growled Miou-Matou, peering up under his gray, shaggy brows.
"Only that a grande dame has sent you champagne.

That is all.