The gentleman, by the curses at the commencement of this little
speech, and the request contained at the end of it, showed that his
losses vexed him, and that he was anxious to forget them
temporarily.

"Oh, Max!" whimpered Mrs. Cat, "you--don't--want any more punch?"

"Don't! Shan't I be drunk in my own house, you cursed whimpering
jade, you? Get out!" and with this the Captain proceeded to
administer a blow upon Mrs. Catherine's cheek.

Contrary to her custom, she did not avenge it, or seek to do so, as
on the many former occasions when disputes of this nature had arisen
between the Count and her; but now Mrs. Catherine fell on her knees
and, clasping her hands and looking pitifully in the Count's face,
cried, "Oh, Count, forgive me, forgive me!"

"Forgive you! What for? Because I slapped your face? Ha, ha!
I'll forgive you again, if you don't mind."

"Oh, no, no, no!" said she, wringing her hands. "It isn't that.
Max, dear Max, will you forgive me? It isn't the blow--I don't mind
that; it's--"

"It's what, you--maudlin fool?"

"IT'S THE PUNCH!"

The Count, who was more than half seas over, here assumed an air of
much tipsy gravity. "The punch! No, I never will forgive you that