plate or two.' 'Oh, you misunderstand me, my boy,' said Belle-Rose; 'we say that a man has an unlucky hand, when he always kills his man when he fights.'
"The explanation was but too clear. Fanfan trembled in every limb, the sweat ran down his forehead in large drops, white and blue clouds pervaded the red cheeks of the pastrycook's apprentice, his face lengthened, his heart beat, and he would have suffocated, had he not heaved an enormous sigh.
"'Bravo!' cried Belle-Rose, taking his hand in his own, 'I like men who have no fear. You are not afraid.' Then, striking the table, 'Waiter, another bottle of the same; mind you, my friend, here pays. Get up a little, my friend; move yourself—stir about—stretch out your arm—circulate your blood—thrust out: that's it,—splendid! admirable! superb!' And during this time Belle-Rose emptied his glass. 'On the honour of Belle-Rose I could make a fencer of you. Do you know you have an excellent idea of it? You would do well at it; there are more than four of our masters not so well made for it as you. What a pity you were never taught; but nothing is impossible, you have frequented the schools?'—'Oh, I swear not,' replied Fanfan. 'Come, confess that you fight well.'—'No, not at all.'—'No modesty; why conceal your talent that way, I can easily perceive it.'—'I protest to you,' said I, 'that he never handled a foil in his life.'—'Since you attest it, sir, I must believe; but, ah! you are two deep fellows;, you must not teach old apes how to grin; tell me the truth, and do not fear that I would betray you: am not I your friend? If you have no confidence in me, I may as well go. Farewell, gentlemen,' continued Belle-Rose, with a provoked air, going towards the door, as if about to depart.
"'Oh, M. Belle-Rose, do not forsake us,' cried Fanfan. 'Rather ask my friend if I have deceived you. I am a pastrycook by trade, and I cannot help my fate. I have handled the rolling pin, but—’
