angry, Sir," said he, "and I suppose you think you have reason for
being so; but the devil take me, if you are not mistaken in reality."

"How! traitor! in reality?" said the Chevalier de Grammont. "It is then
because I have not had thee well thrashed, as thou hast for a long time
merited." "Look ye, Sir," replied Termes, "you always run into a
passion, instead of listening to reason! Yes, Sir, I maintain that
what I did was for your benefit." "And was not the quicksand likewise
for my service?" said the Chevalier de Grammont. "Have patience,
if you please," pursued the other: "I know not how that simpleton of
a bridegroom happened to be at the custom-house when my portmanteau
was examined at Calais: but these silly cuckolds thrust in their noses
everywhere. As soon as ever he saw your coat, he fell in love with it.
I immediately perceived he was a fool; for he fell down upon his knees,
beseeching me to sell it him. Besides being greatly rumpled in the
portmanteau, it was all stained in front by the sweat of the horses.
I wonder how the devil he has managed to get it cleaned; but, faith,
I am the greatest scoundrel in the world, if you would ever have put it
on. In a word, it cost you one hundred and forty louis d'ors, and seeing
he offered me one hundred and fifty for it; 'My master,' said I, 'has no
occasion for this tinselled bauble to distinguish him at the ball; and,
although he was pretty full of cash when I left him, how know I in what
situation he may be upon my return? there is no certainty at play.'
To be brief, Sir, I got ten louis d'ors for it more than it cost you:
this you see is all clear profit: I will be accountable to you for it,
and you know that I am sufficiently substantial to make good such a sum.
Confess now, do you think you would have appeared to greater advantage at
the ball, if you had been dressed out in that damned coat, which would
have made you look just like the village bridegroom to whom we sold it?
and yet how you stormed at London when you thought it lost; what fine
stories you told the king about the quicksand; and how churlish you
looked, when you first began to suppose that this country booby wore it
at his wedding!"

What could the Chevalier reply to such uncommon impudence? If he
indulged his resentment, he must either have most severely bastinadoed
him, or he must have discarded him, as the easiest escape the rogue could
expect; but he had occasion for him during the remainder o