The young people were lingering over dessert, when the enticing strains of a polka were heard; they rose at once, and each of the young men invited the girl whom he had taken in to supper to be his partner in this first dance. The couples formed gradually; Archag had made up his mind not to dance, but when he saw himself left almost alone with Mademoiselle Maréchal, who was looking at him in some embarrassment, he summoned all his courage, and asked her to be his partner. And the polka was so easy, he need not be afraid of making a blunder. All went well at first, and Archag began to congratulate himself on getting out of the difficulty so well. But, alas, he had not reckoned with the parquet floors to which he was not accustomed. He slipped, and fell full length, dragging his partner down with him. Mademoiselle Maréchal got up in a rage, hearing the ill-suppressed laughter of the other dancers. Archag was crimson with shame, as he stammered out a few words of apology, but the young beauty cut him short: "Ah, that's a little too much! When one doesn't know how to dance, one at least refrains from making himself ridiculous!" Archag longed for the earth to open and swallow him; but that being impossible, he went off to hide himself behind a group of foliage plants. The heat was suffocating and his head throbbed; he thought of his own relatives, so simple in their ways, and felt how out of place he was in this ball-room. His reverie was interrupted by the sound of approaching voices. He would have liked to slip away unperceived, but it was now too late; the newcomers were already seated on a divan, and Archag, hidden behind his screen of foliage, heard everything they said. One of the young men was congratulating Winnie on the success of her party, and the others added their praises. This sort of conversation was not interesting to our friend, and his thoughts were far away again, when he was startled by hearing his own name spoken. "What has become of your Baron Archag?" said some one. "He has probably gone to hide his diminished head in the cellar, or perhaps he is refreshing himself at the sideboard," cried an Austrian. "He's a regular Danube peasant" (Archag recognized the voice of another Armenian boy), "and I can't understand Nejib's inviting him here. Did you hear what a noise he made when he was drinking? Just like a dog, licking his dish." "Aren't you ashamed?" cried Winnie. "If Nejib were here he would soon teach you how to behave. Do you mean to say you have forgotten that this Danube peasant, as you call him, saved Nejib's life? He is a fine boy, and my father and mother love him dearly. When I look at him I can't help thinking that but for him I shouldn't have my brother any more, and it's easy enough to forget his small defects in the way of training." "You are right," said Mademoiselle Maréchal, "but he ought not to have asked me to dance when he didn't know how, himself."