"As we have drunk together," resumed Sleepinbuff, cordially, "we ought to
know each other thoroughly. I am Jacques Rennepont?"

"Rennepont!" cried Dumoulin, who appeared struck by the name, in spite of
his half-drunkenness; "you are Rennepont?"

"Rennepont in the fullest sense of the word. Does that astonish you?"

"There is a very ancient family of that name--the Counts of Rennepont."

"The deuce there is!" said the other, laughing.

"The Counts of Rennepont are also Dukes of Cardoville," added Dumoulin.

"Now, come, old fellow! do I look as if I belonged to such a family?--I,
a workman out for a spree?"

"You a workman? why, we are getting into the Arabian Nights!" cried
Dumoulin, more and more surprised. "You give us a Belshazzar's banquet,
with accompaniment of carriages and four, and yet are a workman? Only
tell me your trade, and I will join you, leaving the Vine of the Divine
to take care of itself."

"Come, I say! don't think that I am a printer of flimsies, and a
smasher!" replied Jacques, laughing.

"Oh, comrade! no such suspicion--"

"It would be excusable, seeing the rigs I run. But I'll make you easy on
that point. I am spending an inheritance."