At these words, which reminded him of the peril to which he was about to
expose himself, Jacques started, as if a sudden idea had occurred to him.
He raised his head proudly, his cheeks were slightly flushed, his eye
shone with a kind of gloomy satisfaction, and he exclaimed in a firm
voice: "Hang it, waiter! are you deaf? I asked you for two bottles of
brandy."

"Yes, sir," said the waiter, going to fetch them, although himself
frightened at what might be the result of this bacchanalian struggle. But
the mad and perilous resolution of Jacques was applauded by the majority.

Ninny Moulin moved about on his chair, stamped his feet, and shouted with
all his might: "Bacchus and drink! bottles and glasses! the throats are
dry! brandy to the rescue! Largess! largess!"

And, like a true champion of the tournament, he embraced Modeste, adding,
to excuse the liberty: "Love, you shall be the Queen of Beauty, and I am
only anticipating the victor's happiness!"

"Brandy to the rescue!" repeated they all, in chorus. "Largess!"

"Gentlemen," added Ninny Moulin, with enthusiasm, "shall we remain
indifferent to the noble example set us by Goodman Cholera? He said in
his pride, `brandy!' Let us gloriously answer, 'punch!'"

"Yes, yes! punch!"

"Punch to the rescue!"

"Waiter!" shouted the religious writer, with the voice of a Stentor,