And I did go on—­went on at such a rate, that in another quarter of an hour the croupier called out, “Gentlemen, the bank has discontinued for to-night.”  All the notes, and all the gold in that “bank,” now lay in a heap under my hands; the whole floating capital of the gambling-house was waiting to pour into my pockets!

“Tie up the money in your pocket-handkerchief, my worthy sir,” said the old soldier, as I wildly plunged my hands into my heap of gold.  “Tie it up, as we used to tie up a bit of dinner in the Grand Army; your winnings are too heavy for any breeches-pockets that ever were sewed.  There! that’s it—­shovel them in, notes and all! Credie! what luck!  Stop! another napoleon on the floor! Ah! sacre petit polisson de Napoleon! have I found thee at last?  Now then, sir—­two tight double knots each way with your honorable permission, and the money’s safe.  Feel it! feel it, fortunate sir! hard and round as a cannon-ball—­Ah, bah! if they had only fired such cannon-balls at us at Austerlitz—­nom d’une pipe! if they only had!  And now, as an ancient grenadier, as 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 bonbons 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 aflame.  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 amazingly strong?

“Ex-brave of the French Army!” cried I, in a mad state of exhilaration, “I 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.