an ex-brave of the French army, what
remains for me to do ? I ask what? Simply
this: to entreat my valued English friend to
drink a bottle of champagne with me, and
toast the goddess Fortune in foaming goblets
before we part!"

Excellent ex-brave! Convivial ancient
grenadier! Champagne by all means! An
English cheer for an old soldier! Hurrah!
hurrah! Another English cheer for the
goddess Fortune! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

"Bravo! the Englishman; the amiable,
gracious Englishman, in whose veins circulates
the vivacious blood of France! Another
glass ? Ah, bah!—the bottle is empty! Never
mind! Vive le vin! I, the old soldier, order
another bottle, and half-a-pound of bon-bons
with it!"

No, no, ex-brave; never—ancient grenadier!
Your bottle last time; my bottle
this. Behold it! Toast away! The French
Army!—the great Napoleon!—the present
company! the croupier! the honest croupier's
wife and daughters—if he has any! the Ladies
generally! Everybody in the world!

By the time the second bottle of champagne
was emptied, I felt as if I had been drinking
liquid fire—my brain seemed all a-flame. No
excess in wine had ever had this effect on me
before in my life. Was it the result of a
stimulant acting upon my system when I was
in a highly-excited state? Was my stomach
in a particularly disordered condition ? Or
was the champagne particularly strong?

"Ex-brave of the French Army!" cried I,
in a mad state of exhilaration. " / am on
fire! how are you? You have set me on
fire! Do you hear; my hero of Austerlitz?
Let us have a third bottle of champagne to
put the flame out! " The old soldier wagged
his head, rolled his goggle-eyes, until I
expected to see them slip out of their
sockets; placed his dirty forefinger by the
side of his broken nose; solemnly ejaculated
"Coffee!" and immediately ran off into an
inner room.

The word pronounced by the eccentric
veteran, seemed to have a magical effect on
the rest of the company present. With one
accord they all rose to depart. Probably
they had expected to profit by my intoxication;
but finding that my new friend was
benevolently bent on preventing me from
getting dead drunk, had now abandoned all
hope of thriving pleasantly on my winnings.
Whatever their motive might be, at any rate
they went away in a body. When the old
soldier returned, and sat down again opposite
to me at the table, we had the room to
ourselves. I could see the croupier, in a sort of
vestibule which opened out of it, eating his
supper in solitude. The silence was now
deeper than ever.

A sudden change, too, had come over the
"ex-brave." He assumed a portentously
solemn look; and when he spoke to me
again, his speech was ornamented by no oaths,
enforced by no finger-snapping, enlivened by
no apostrophes, or exclamations.

"Listen, my dear sir," said he, in mysteriously
confidential tones—" listen to an old
soldier's advice. I have been to the mistress
of the house (a very charming woman, with
a genius for cookery!) to impress on her the
necessity of making us some particularly
strong and good coffee. You must drink this
coffee in order to get rid of your little
amiable exaltation of spirits, before you
think of going home—you must, my good and
gracious friend! With all that money to take
home to-night, it is a sacred duty to yourself
to have your wits about you. You are known
to be a winner to an enormous extent, by
several gentlemen present to-night, who, in a
certain point of view, are very worthy and
excellent fellows; but they are mortal men,
my dear sir, and they have their amiable
weaknesses! Need I say more? Ah, no, no!
you understand me! Now, this is what you
must do—send for a cabriolet when you feel
quite well again—draw up all the windows
when you get into it and tell the driver to
take you home only through the large and
well-lighted thoroughfares. Do this; and
you and your money will be safe. Do this;
and to-morrow you will thank an old soldier
for giving you a word of honest advice."

Just as the ex-brave ended his oration in
very lachrymose tones, the coffee came in,
ready poured out in two cups. My attentive
friend handed me one of the cups, with a
bow. I was parched with thirst, and drank
it off at a draught. Almost instantly afterwards,
I was seized with a fit of giddiness,
and felt more completely intoxicated than
ever. The room whirled round and round
furiously; the old soldier seemed to be
regularly bobbing up and down before me, like
the piston of a steam-engine. I was half
deafened by a violent singing in my ears; a
feeling of utter bewilderment, helplessness,
idiotcy, overcame me. I rose from my chair,
holding on by the table to keep my balance;
and stammered out, that I felt dreadfully
unwell—so unwell, that I did not know how I
was to get home.

"My dear friend," answered the old soldier;
and even his voice seemed to be bobbing up
and down, as he spoke—" My dear friend, it
would be madness to go home, in your state,
You would be sure to lose your money; you
might be robbed and murdered with the
greatest ease. / am going to sleep here: do
you sleep here, too—they make up capital beds
in this house—take one; sleep off the effects
of the wine, and go home safely with your
winnings, to-morrow—to-morrow, in broad
daylight."

I had no power of thinking, no feeling of
any kind, but the feeling that I must lie
down somewhere, immediately, and fall off
into a cool, refreshing, comfortable sleep.
So I agreed eagerly to the proposal about the
bed, and took the offered arms of the old