“How so, Mademoiselle?” asked Fadard. “When a gentleman asks for a dance he takes off his cap, Monsieur.” Fadard smiled. In the provinces the peasants, as a rule, wear little skull-caps not unlike the Turkish fez, and in a dance they lend a rather picturesque effect. It is the custom to touch the cap, without removing it, when a man is asking for the pleasure of a dance. But Jenny’s rebuke did not disconcert the gay Fadard in the least. He bowed low, took off his cap, and again besought her for a dance. A burst of laughter greeted his gallantry. “I am indeed honored, Monsieur,” remarked Jenny coquettishly, “but I cannot dance without my father’s permission. Go and ask him.” “Ah, Madcap, you are joking. Come.” But she would not listen. She disappeared in the crowd; while the chagrined Fadard addressed another girl, who in a similar way answered: “Go and ask my brother, Monsieur Fadard.” Fadard by this time was furious. Not only was he deprived of a partner, but he evidently was unpopular among the village girls. He resolved to make one more attempt, and turning to Rosalie he asked for a dance. “With pleasure, Monsieur, upon one condition.” “You mean I must ask somebody’s permission, eh?” “Oh, no. I shall be delighted to dance with you if you will kindly tell me your age.” His age was a tender point with Fadard, and he turned toward the offender with a menacing gesture. Just at that moment Rosalie’s elderly husband, who, though henpecked at home, was still the possessor of a brawny pair of arms abroad, quickly settled the matter by administering a severe fistic correction which landed Fadard in a corner, panting for breath. Recovering himself, the coward rushed off to relate his woes to Andoche, hoping that the latter in his intoxicated condition would take his part and avenge his wrongs. But Andoche just then was enjoying himself too well to be beguiled into a quarrel and an encounter. So Fadard seated himself beside Andoche, who urged him to drown his grievances in the flowing bowl. Meanwhile the dancing had begun. Nearly every one was thus engaged but Catherine. She obstinately refused to participate in it. If Fadard thought he alone was the victim of her caprice he was mistaken. Resolved to pose as a martyr to her husband’s whims, she treated each new-comer with the same answer, and many thinking she did not wish to dance with them, sought other partners. Some, however, took her at her word. Bruno would have given his life to have held her in his arms, but she gave him the same response, and he went away in despair, poor Sidonie watching him with tears in her eyes. “Oh, that he could be consoled with one who would die for his happiness,” she murmured to herself, not daring to speak to him openly. After Bruno nearly all of the young men besought her, but Catherine returned the one answer to them: “You must ask my husband’s permission.”