Cousin Ravinet was the little man who talked like Mr. Punch; he rushed into the room where Monsieur Girie's wedding was being celebrated, crying: "Here comes my cousin's landlord! He's coming to our party. Bocal's bringing him.--A little music, please. I say there, you in the orchestra!" The musicians supposed that he was calling for dance music, and they began to play a polka. Monsieur Guillardin, impelled almost by force by his tenant Monsieur Bocal, found himself in the ballroom at the rear. Madame Dauberny and I followed him, as did Balloquet, the latter being escorted almost in triumph by the bridegroom, who had taken his arm. "You ought to have told us right off that you were a friend--a friend of friends of ours," said Girie. "Then we wouldn't have quarrelled. As you're invited to the party of my father-in-law Bocal's landlord, why, give me your hand! I must insist on your dancing the next dance with Pétronille." "You're too kind, Monsieur Girie. As for the mistake I made in pinching your good wife----" "Nonsense! don't say any more about that! It was a joke--just a joke! Look you, if you're a good fellow, you'll stay with us--as long as you're enjoying yourself. Now we know each other, we'll have some sport; we'll raise the deuce. It's agreed, ain't it? You stay with us; and at supper I'll take good care of you." "What's that? you're going to have a supper?" "Parbleu! I should say so! What does a party amount to without supper? You'll stay, won't you?" "Faith! Monsieur Pamphile, you are so kind--your company is so lively; I'm tempted to let the landlord's party go by the board." Madame Dauberny and I were walking behind them, and heard every word of their conversation. She had taken my arm as if we were old acquaintances, and she said in an undertone: "It will be fortunate if your friend Balloquet stays here, for I think that he's a little exhilarated, and if he should come to Anna's ball he might say something that would compromise us by betraying our little fraud." "You are entirely right, madame; but you need have no fear: Balloquet will stay here. He has been told of a supper to come, and he is one of those persons who never refuse a meal, even when they have had four during the day." "That speaks well for his digestion.--Mon Dieu! just look: I believe that they propose to make us dance now. Monsieur Bocal is trying to induce his landlord to polk. It must be that the man's lease is nearing its end, and he wants to renew it." The music had, in fact, excited Monsieur Bocal, who deemed it his duty to walk in step and was almost polking when he presented his landlord to his daughter Pétronille, who was a plump, chubby-cheeked wench, very fresh and red, with no other recommendation than her youth. Monsieur Guillardin took out his snuffbox and offered it to the bride, who muttered: "Snuff! Sneeze all the time I'm dancing! I guess not! And I haven't got a handkerchief, either." "Do you polk?" Madame Frédérique asked me.