ch George had been indulging, imparted a certain warmth and
eloquence to his descriptions of Florac's good qualities, high birth,
and considerable patrimony; Barnes looked quite amazed and scared at
these announcements, then laughed and declared once more that Warrington
was chaffing him.

"As sure as the Black Prince was lord of Acquitaine--as sure as the
English were masters of Bordeaux--and why did we ever lose the country?"
cries George, filling himself a bumper,--"every word I have said about
Florac is true;" and Florac coming in at this juncture havin just
finished his cigar, George turned round and made him a fine speech in
the French language, in which he lauded his constancy and good-humour
under evil fortune, paid him two or three more cordial compliments, and
finished by drinking another great bumper to his good health.

Florac took a little wine, replied "with effusion" to the toast which
his excellent, his noble friend had just carried. We rapped our glasses
at the end of the speech. The landlord himself seemed deeply touched by
it as he stood by with a fresh bottle. "It is good wine--it is honest
wine--it is capital wine" says George, "and honni soit qui mal y pence!
What business have you, you little beggar, to abuse it? My ancestor
drank the wine and wore the motto round his leg long before a Newcome
ever showed his pale face in Lombard Street." George Warrington never
bragged about his pedigree except under certain influences. I am
inclined to think that on this occasion he really did find the claret
very good.

"You don't mean to say," says Barnes, addressing Florac in French, on
which he piqued himself, "que vous avez un tel manche a votre nom, et
que vous ne l'usez pas?"

Florac shrugged his shoulders; he at first did not understand that
familiar figure of English speech, or what was meant by "having a handle
to your name." "Moncontour cannot dine better than Florac," he said.
"Florac has two louis in his pocket, and Moncontour exactly forty
shillings. Florac's proprietor will ask Moncontour to-morrow for five
weeks' rent; and as for Florac's friends, my dear, they will burst out
laughing to Moncontour's nose!" "How droll you English are!" this acute
French observer afterwards said, laughing, and recalling the incident.
Did you not see how that little Barnes, as soon as he knew my title
of Prince, changed his manner and became all respect towards me?
This, indeed, Monsieur de Florac's two friends