As soon as the strong and fiery brandy had touched his palate and tongue, awakening more vividly than ever the sensation of alcohol which he was so fond of, and so longed for, which caresses, and stings, and burns the mouth, he knew that he should drink a whole bottle of it, and so he asked immediately what it cost, so as to spare himself having it in detail.  They charged him three francs, which he paid, and then he began quietly to get drunk.

However, he was methodical in it, as he wished to keep sober enough for other pleasures, and so, as soon as he felt that he was on the point of seeing the fireplace bow to him, he got up and went out with unsteady steps, with his bottle under his arm, in search of a house where girls of easy virtue lived.

He found one, with some difficulty, after having asked a carter, who did not know of one; a postman, who directed him wrong; a baker, who began to swear and called him an old pig; and lastly, a soldier, who was obliging enough to take him to it, advised him to choose La Reine.

Although it was barely twelve o’clock, Pavilly went into that palace of delights, where he was received by a servant, who wanted to turn him out again.  But he made her laugh by making a grimace, showed her three francs, the usual price of the special provisions of the place, and followed her with difficulty up a dark staircase, which led to the first floor.

When he had been shown into a room, he asked for la Reine, and had another drink out of the bottle, while he waited.  But very shortly, the door opened and a girl came in.  She was tall, fat, red-faced, enormous.  She looked at the drunken fellow, who had fallen into a seat, with the eye of a judge of such matters, and said: 

“Are you not ashamed of yourself, at this time of day?”

“Ashamed of what, Princess?” he stammered.

“Why, of disturbing a lady, before she has even had time to eat her dinner.”

He wanted to have a joke, so he said: 

“There is no such thing as time, for the brave.”

“And there ought to be no time for getting drunk, either, old guzzler.”

At this he got angry: 

“I am not a guzzler, and I am not drunk.”

“Not drunk?”

“No, I am not.”

“Not drunk?  Why, you could not even stand straight;” and she looked at him angrily, thinking that all this time her companions were having their dinner.

“I ...  I could dance a polka,” he replied, getting up, and to prove his stability he got onto the chair, made a pirouette and jumped onto the bed, where his thick, muddy shoes made two great marks.

“Oh! you dirty brute!” the girl cried, and rushing at him, she struck him a blow with her fist in the stomach, such a blow that Pavilly lost his balance, fell and struck the foot of the bed, and making a complete somersault tumbled onto the night-table, dragging the jug and basin with him, and then rolled onto the ground, roaring.