But the General was not at all dismayed. On the
contrary, he cared so little for his wife's displeasure that, when
the dessert was served, he turned to the servant, and, with a wink
that Mademoiselle Marguerite noticed, "Evariste," he ordered, "go
to the wine-cellar, and bring me a bottle of old Bordeaux."
The valet, who had just received a week's notice, was only too
glad of an opportunity for revenge. So with a malicious smile,
and in a drawling tone, he replied: "Then monsieur must give me
the money. Monsieur knows very well that neither the grocer nor
the wine-merchant will trust him any longer."
M. de Fondege rose from the table, looking very pale; but before
he had time to utter a word, his wife came to the rescue. "You
know, my dear, that I don't trust the key of my cellar to this
lad. Evariste, call Justine."
The pert-looking chambermaid appeared, and her mistress told her
where she would find the key of the famous cellar. About a
quarter of an hour afterward, one of those bottles which grocers
and wine-merchants prepare for the benefit of credulous customers
was brought in--a bottle duly covered with dust and mould to give
it a venerable appearance, and festooned with cobwebs, such as the
urchins of Paris collect and sell at from fifteen sous to two
francs a pound, according to quality. But the Bordeaux did not
restore the General's equanimity.
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