he
first person who evinced that he had eaten sufficiently to be able to
talk. Utterly dispensing with the slightest veil of reserve or royalty,
he leaned over the table, and poured forth a whole tide of jests. The
guests then began to think it was indecorous to stuff themselves
any more, and, as well as they were able, they followed their host's
example. But the most amusing personages were the buffoons: they
mimicked and joked, and lampooned and lied, as if by inspiration. As the
bottle circulated, and talk grew louder, the lampooning and the lying
were not, however, confined to the buffoons. On the contrary, the best
born and best bred people seemed to excel the most in those polite arts.
Every person who boasted a fair name or a decent reputation at court was
seized, condemned, and mangled in an instant. And how elaborately the
good folks slandered! It was no hasty word and flippant repartee which
did the business of the absent: there was a precision, a polish, a
labour of malice, which showed that each person had brought so many
reputations already cut up. The good-natured convivialists differed from
all other backbiters that I have ever met, in the same manner as the
toads of Surinam differ from all other toads; namely, their venomous
offspring were not half formed, misshapen tadpoles of slander, but
sprang at once into life,--well shaped and fully developed.

"_Chantons_!" cried the Regent, whose eyes, winking and rolling, gave
token of his approaching state which equals the beggar to the king; "let
us have a song. Noce, lift up thy voice, and let us hear what the Tokay
has put into thy head!"

Noce obeyed, and sang as men half drunk generally do sing.

"_O Ciel_!" whispered the malicious Savori, "what a hideous screech: one
would think he had _turned his face into a voice!_"

"_Bravissimo_!" cried the Duke, when his guest had ceased,--"what happy
people we are! Our doors are locked; not a soul can disturb us: we have
plenty of wine; we are going to get drunk; and we have all Paris to
abuse! what were you saying of Marshal Villars, my little Parabere?"

And pounce went the little Parabere upon the unfortunate marshal.
At last slander had a respite: nonsense began its reign; the full
inspiration descended upon the orgies; the good people lost the use of
their faculties. Noise, clamour, uproar, broken bottles, falling chairs,
and (I grieve to say) their occupants falling too,--conclude the scene
of the royal s