Laigle de Meaux, as the reader knows, lived more with Joly than elsewhere. He had a lodging, as a bird has one on a branch. The two friends lived together, ate together, slept together. They had everything in common, even Musichetta, to some extent.
They were, what the subordinate monks who accompany monks are called, bini. On the morning of the 5th of June, they went to Corinthe to breakfast. Joly, who was all stuffed up, had a catarrh which Laigle was beginning to share.
Laigle’s coat was threadbare, but Joly was well dressed. It was about nine o’clock in the morning, when they opened the door of Corinthe. They ascended to the first floor. Matelote and Gibelotte received them. 'Oysters, cheese, and ham,' said Laigle. And they seated themselves at a table.
The wine-shop was empty; there was no one there but themselves. Gibelotte, knowing Joly and Laigle, set a bottle of wine on the table. While they were busy with their first oysters, a head appeared at the hatchway of the staircase, and a voice said:— 'I am passing by.
I smell from the street a delicious odor of Brie cheese. I enter. ' It was Grantaire. Grantaire took a stool and drew up to the table. At the sight of Grantaire, Gibelotte placed two bottles of wine on the table. That made three.
'Are you going to drink those two bottles? ' Laigle inquired of Grantaire. Grantaire replied:— 'All are ingenious, thou alone art ingenuous. Two bottles never yet astonished a man. ' The others had begun by eating, Grantaire began by drinking. Half a bottle was rapidly gulped down.
'So you have a hole in your stomach? ' began Laigle again. 'You have one in your elbow,' said Grantaire. And after having emptied his glass, he added:— 'Ah, by the