number, forming three couples of individuals whose "human face divine" was most tremendously disfigured: they all had scratched countenances and black eyes; by the bloody disorder of their attire, and the freshness of their dilapidations in face and garments, it was easy to perceive that they were the heroes of some spree, in which on both sides the quarrel had been decided by fisty-cuffs. They approached our table.
One of the Heroes. "By your leave, my trumps, is there room for us on this here seat?"
I. "We shall be squeezed a little, but never mind." (making room.)
Riboulet (addressing me.) "Come, my covey, make room for the gentlemen."
Manon (to the fresh arrivals.) "Are these ladies with you?"
One of the Heroines. "Vat is it you say? (turning to her friends,) vat does she say?"
Her Pal. "Hold your jaw, Titine, (Celestine,) the lady said nothing to affront you."
The whole party seated themselves.
A Hero. "Halloo! come here daddy Guillotin; a little black father, four year old, for eight mag." (A four quart jug for eight sous.)
Guillotin. "Coming, coming."
The Waiter (with the jug in his hand.) Thirty-two mag, if you please."
"I'll give you two and thirty kicks of the , you're chaffing us my rum 'un.
Waiter. "No, my knowing ones, but it's the custom, or, if you like, the way of this here house."
The wine was poured into all the glasses, and they also filled ours. "Excuse the liberty," said the Ganymede of the party.
"Oh, there's no harm done," replied Riboulet.
"You know one politeness requires another."
"But you are too polite."
"Oh no, drink away, nunky pays for all."
"You are right, my boys, so push the wine about."
