"Some wine!" cried the stupefied host, "some wine? Why you have drunk more than a hundred pistoles' worth! I am a ruined man, lost, destroyed!"
"Bah," said Athos, "we were always dry."
"If you had been contented with drinking, well and good; but you have broken all the bottles."
"You pushed me upon a heap which rolled down. That was your fault."
"All my oil is lost!"
"Oil is a sovereign balm for wounds; and my poor Grimaud here was obliged to dress those you had inflicted on him."