Frederique Volume I Part 19

The stout man with the gla.s.sy eyes stopped at Cousin Ravinet's summons; then he came to me and gripped my other arm, saying with an effusiveness that scorched my cheeks, for he had the unpleasant habit of speaking within an inch of your nose:

"Ah! monsieur, you're one of my landlord's guests. Surely you won't insult me by joining us without taking something?--Here, waiter!"

"You are too good, Monsieur Bocal, but----"

"The punch is made with my syrup; it's perfumed, and sweetens your breath."

"That is what I was just saying to monsieur, cousin----"

"I say there! waiter!"

"Waiter! bring some punch! My cousin is calling you!"

Cousin Ravinet was determined to do his part. The two men held me so that I could not escape. A waiter arrived with a salver. I realized that I should get into serious difficulty if I refused; it would be quite likely to draw down upon me the wrath of Madame Girie, whom I spied in a corner, whispering with some other women. So I swallowed the gla.s.s of punch, hoping that I should be set free; but I was disappointed.

Monsieur Bocal led me away toward his daughter Petronille, saying:

"You must dance with the bride."

"It's a very great honor, but----"

"Oh! you must dance with her. My landlord refused to dance, but he's an elderly man. But a famous dancer, a zephyr, like you, can't refuse."

I did not know how to evade the honors with which I was overwhelmed.

Monsieur Bocal had already said to his daughter:

"Petronille, you're going to dance with monsieur--my landlord's friend."

"But, papa, I am going to dance with Freluchon."

"What do I care for Freluchon! I tell you, Petronille, you're going to dance with monsieur; and you'll see how he dances. All you've got to do is stand straight----"

"But I promised poor Freluchon two hours ago, and he's gone to wash his hands on purpose, because he's lost his gloves; he'll be mad."

"For heaven's sake, Monsieur Bocal," said I, "don't let me interfere with your daughter's plans! I will dance with her later; I should be very sorry to offend anyone."

"On the contrary, monsieur, it will give me much pleasure," said Bocal.

"I don't care a snap of my finger whether Freluchon's angry or not. The idea of putting ourselves out for him! Not much! You shall dance this dance with the bride. Hark! there goes the orchestra; take your places quick!"

Escape was impossible. What had I tumbled into? Those people were as obstinate as mules, and a refusal on my part would irritate them; people of little education are always extremely sensitive with fashionable persons, for they feel their inferiority; they are afraid of being laughed at, when no one has any idea of laughing at them.

I made the best of it and took my place beside the bride, who did not act as if she were overjoyed to dance with me and probably regretted Freluchon.

"Who's going to dance opposite the bride?" shouted Monsieur Bocal, in stentorian tones.

"I am! I am! here I am!"

And a tall, thin, bald-headed old man appeared, leading by the hand a girl of seven or eight. There was a vis-a-vis which would not afford me any distraction! I heard a muttering behind me, then groans, then Monsieur Bocal's voice above all the rest. It was probably Monsieur Freluchon, indignant to find that he had washed his hands for nothing.

The quadrille began. The bride went into it with all her heart; she was a buxom wench, who had made up her mind to let herself go on her wedding day, and was determined to do what she had set out to do. If only I did not get in the way of her feet, I felt that I should be lucky. The tall old man, who stood opposite her, danced with a zeal deserving of the greatest praise; he persisted in taking all the little steps and even essayed some leaps and bounds; the perspiration rolled down his face after the second figure, but he did not omit a step. He was a conscientious dancer, and would have been in great demand under the Empire. The little girl hopped about in every direction, and made a mess of every figure; she was always behind me when she should have been in front; but I was indifferent and let her wander about at her pleasure.

I was convinced that Cousin Ravinet had spread the information that I was a famous dancer, for there was a crowd about our set. The good people must have been sadly disappointed, as I did nothing but walk through the figures. Indeed, I heard some voices muttering:

"Bah! it wasn't worth while to put ourselves out; I can dance better than that. Ravinet must have seen double; he don't even know how to do the _basque_ step!"

I felt called upon to try to talk with the bride.

"You must be tired, madame?"

"Tired? why?"

"You have probably been dancing a long while."

"_Dame!_ if the bride didn't dance, it would be a pretty wedding! The men have to ask me to dance; that's what they were invited for."

I bit my lip, as I rejoined:

"This is a very happy day for you, madame, is it not?"

"A happy day! Oh! it's rather amusing just now; but I've found it pretty stupid all day!"

"Ah! is that so? But I presume that you love the man you have married?"

"Oh, yes! well enough, as far as that goes; not too much; but it'll come; pa said it would come."

"Would it be impertinent of me to ask what your husband's business is?"

"My husband's? He sells sponges, at wholesale; we're going to keep a sponge shop."

"That must be a good business."

"_Dame!_ I don't know anything about it. I shan't like it very much to be among sponges all the time. But we won't have any dog, anyway; that was one of the first conditions I made."

"Ah! you don't want a dog; I judge that you dislike dogs?"

"Mon Dieu! no, I like all kinds of animals. But it's on account of the song."

"Ah! is there a song about dogs?"

"About the _Sponge Man's Dog_! Don't you know that song?"

"No; I must admit that it is entirely unknown to me."

"It's a comic song; every verse ends like this: 'And it was the sponge man's dog.'--Everybody knows that refrain, and pa says to Pamphile: 'If you had a dog, people would always sing that song when they saw him.

That might injure your business.'--And Pamphile says: 'I'll never have a dog, I swear,' and I married him. Pa did well, didn't he?"

"I admire Monsieur Bocal's foresight."

"He insisted, too, that my mother-in-law shouldn't live with us."