When La Mole and Coconnas had finished their supperand it was meagre enough, for the fowls of _La Belle Etoile_ had their pin feathers singed only on the signCoconnas whirled his chair around on one leg, stretched out his feet, leaned one elbow on the table, and drinking a last glass of wine, said:
"Do you mean to go to bed instantly, Monsieur de la Mole?"
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