"Pray sit down, gentlemen; take our chairs!" exclaimed
Master Pothier, officiously offering his to Cadet, who accepted it
as well as the black mug, of which he drank heartily, declaring old
Norman cider suited his taste better than the choicest wine.
"We are your most humble servitors, and highly esteem the honor of
your visit," said Master Pothier, as he refilled the black mug.
"Jolly fellows!" replied Cadet, stretching his legs refreshingly,
"this does look comfortable. Do you drink cider because you like
it, or because you cannot afford better?"
"There is nothing better than Norman cider, except Cognac brandy,"
replied Master Pothier, grinning from ear to ear. "Norman cider is
fit for a king, and with a lining of brandy is drink for a Pope! It
will make a man see stars at noonday. Won't it, Bartemy?"
"What! old turn-penny! are you here?" cried Cadet, recognizing the
old beggar of the gate of the Basse Ville.
"Oh, yes, your Honor!" replied Bartemy, with his professional whine,
"pour l'amour de Dieu!"
"Gad! you are the jolliest beggar I know out of the Friponne,"
replied Cadet, throwing him a crown.
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