"Let us drink, then," said Morisseau, knocking his glass against his host's.
"Let us drink," said the latter; and Morisseau's eyes glared as he saw him bear the glass to his lips. His joy, however, was short. "Let us drink something better than this," said the Corsican, who, as he spoke, threw away the contents of his glass. "I have some champagne given me by my General, one of the old guard, and I shall never find a more suitable occasion to uncork it." He took from a shelf near the table a long wire-fastened bottle, covered with a venerable dust.
Morisseau was not yet in despair, for he relied for an opportunity to use his vial on the third service. Paolo dexterously uncorked the bottle, and poured out a glass of perfumed wine to the imperial furrier, who, when he had knocked his glass against the Corsican's, drank it down, while the latter, just when he got it to his mouth, saw a fragment of cork on its brim. He took it out with his knife, lifted up the glass, and said: "To the Emperor. May he whom the enemies call the Corsican Ogre, soon eat up the Prussians, Austrians, and beggarly Cossacks. May he cut them into cat's-meat. May he cut off the _ailles de Pigeon_ of all the _Voltigeurs de Louis XVI._ restored by the Bourbons. May he--"
Rinoccio paused in his speech, for his guest looked pale and disturbed, and seemed about to go to sleep.
"_Per Bacco!_" said M. Morisseau, at once speaking the purest Italian, "what did that devil give me to drink?"
"Probably," said the Corsican, in the same tongue, "what you would have given me, had I not taken care to empty in the fireplace the glass into which you had poured some narcotic or other."
"Christ!" said the furrier, "the beggar saw me!"
"He knows me," said the false furrier, attempting to rise.
The Corsican, however, pushed him back, and Pignana sank stupidly on his seat.
"Curse you, Stenio, you shall pay for this!..."
"Ah, ah," said the Corsican, "so two played at the same game. Funny! and we were both good actors. I do not ask you," continued he, ironically, "why you came hither, and why you consented to share my frugal meal, for I know already, and will tell you. You met me in Paris, my presence annoyed you and your friends, and I know why. You watched and pursued me to find where I lived, and you succeeded. You joined me at the Café Lemblin, and we neither seemed to recognize each other. I asked you to dine, and you accepted my invitation, for with the drug you have you intended to put me to sleep, and expected then to be able to examine all my plans. You would have failed, Signor Pignana, for I do not live in this house. I took this room only for your especial benefit, and intend to give it up to-morrow. Do not, therefore, be disturbed, my good fellow; but go to sleep, and digest your dinner."