ah? Those barrels I saw through the door?”
“Port!” replied Grimaud, beginning a fresh sum.
“I have heard,” said Blaisois, “that port is a very good wine.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Mousqueton, smacking his lips. “Excellent; there is port wine in the cellar of Monsieur le Baron de Bracieux.”
“Suppose we ask these Englishmen to sell us a bottle,” said the honest Blaisois.
“Sell!” cried Mousqueton, about whom there was a remnant of his ancient marauding character left. “One may well perceive, young man, that you are inexperienced. Why buy what one can take?”