“Is it not?”

“Good God, what a number of things we learn by traveling.”

“To your health!” said Jupenet, quite enchanted.

“To yours, mordioux, to yours. But — an instant — not in this cider. It is an abominable drink, unworthy of a man who quenches his thirst at the Hippocrene fountain — is not it so you call your fountain, you poets?”

“Yes, monsieur, our fountain is so called. That comes from two Greek words — hippos, which means a horse, and — ”

“Monsieur,” interrupted D’Artagnan, “you shall drink of a liquor which comes from one single French word, and is none the worse for that —