"Very well," said he, philosophically, as he picked up the piece of money, carefully wiped off the mud, and put it back in his pocket, "I'll go and get drunk." Then, with long strides, he made off to his favourite tavern, which had the advantage of being in the immediate vicinity of his own lodgings, so that with a few zigzags he was at home, after he had filled himself with wine from the soles of his boots to the apple in his throat.

It was not an inviting-looking place, this same tavern, with the odd device of an enormous radish, bearing a golden crown--now rather tarnished--which had served as its sign for many generations of wine-drinkers.

The heavy wooden shutters were all closed when Lampourde reached it; but by the bright light streaming through their crevices, and the sounds of song and revelry that reached his ear, he knew that there must be a numerous company within.

Knocking on the door in a peculiar way with the handle of his sword, he made himself known as an habitue of the house, and was promptly admitted--the door being carefully made fast again the moment he had entered.

The large, low room into which he made his way was filled with the smoke from many pipes, and redolent with the fumes of wine.