Thewinesparkledinhiseyesandthebellsjingled。MyownfancygrewwarmwiththeMedoc。Wehadpassedthroughwallsofpiledbones，withcasksandpuncheonsintermingling，intotheinmostrecessesofthecatacombs。Ipausedagain，andthistimeImadeboldtoseizeFortunatobyanarmabovetheelbow。
“Thenitre！”Isaid：“see，itincreases。Ithangslikemossuponthevaults。Wearebelowtheriver’sbed。Thedropsofmoisturetrickleamongthebones。Come，wewillgobackereitistoolate。Yourcough“
“Itisnothing。”hesaid；“letusgoon。Butfirst，anotherdraughtoftheMedoc。”
Ibrokeandreachedhimafla鏾nofDeGr鈜e。Heemptieditatabreath。Hiseyesflashedwithafiercelight。HelaughedandthrewthebottleupwardswithagesticulationIdidnotunderstand。
Ilookedathiminsurprise。Herepeatedthemovement-agrotesqueone。