"That boot fits," shouted the Intendant
exultingly; "now for the chant! I will lead. Stop the breath of
any one who will not join in the chorus."
The Intendant in great voice led off a macaronic verse of Moliere,
that had often made merry the orgies of Versailles:
"'Bene, bene, bene, respondere!
Dignus, dignus es, entrare
In nostro laeto corpore!'"
A tintamarre of voices and a jingle of glasses accompanied the
violins and tambours de Basque as the company stood up and sang the
song, winding up with a grand burst at the chorus:
"'Vivat! vivat! vivat! cent fois vivat!
Novus socius qui tam bene parlat!
Mille mille annis et manget et bibat,
Fripet et friponnat!'"
Hands were shaken all round, congratulations, embracings, and filthy
kisses showered upon Le Gardeur to honor his admission as a partner
of the Grand Company.
"And now," continued Bigot, "we will drink a draught long as the
bell rope of Notre Dame. Fill up brimmers of the quintessence of
the grape, and drain them dry in honor of the Friponne!"
The name was electric.
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