"Yes, madame." "Very well; then let us take a turn. I prefer to make my entry dancing; it will be more amusing. Indeed, I see some faces already that make me long to laugh. Come, monsieur, they say that you waltz beautifully; let us see if you polk as well." We started off. I was in luck that evening: after an excellent waltzer, I found myself with a partner who polked to perfection. We danced forward and backward, and turned in every direction. Our manner of dancing seemed to arouse the admiration of the company, for I heard people say as we passed: "Look! there's a couple who dance pretty well!" "Just look at those two; see what pretty steps they take!" "Who are those people?" "They belong to the party in front, the wedding party of Monsieur Bocal's landlord's daughter; Monsieur Bocal invited them." "They polk mighty well; they must be ballet dancers at least." "I'll bet they belong to the Opéra." Madame Dauberny heard this last. She laughed heartily, but that did not interfere with her running comments on the wedding guests: "Look at that couple yonder; for ten minutes they have been in the same spot; they are trying to polk, and can't go forward or back.--You will notice a tall woman in pink, in the corner at our left, with a garland of green leaves on her head; she has struck the attitude of a caryatid, and seems disposed to weep.--And see those two ladies, or demoiselles, polking together, and bumping into everybody.--And that little man hopping about with a tall partner." "That's Cousin Ravinet." "On my word, there are some sweet caricatures here! There are some very good-looking girls, but they look like grisettes; probably that's all they are. I am very curious to know what Monsieur Bocal's business is." The music stopped. The heat was stifling in the ballroom. "I have had enough of it," said Madame Dauberny; "besides, I believe that Monsieur Guillardin has returned to his daughter. Take me back to the other party; then you may return here, if you choose." "I beg you to believe, madame, that I too prefer the company of which you are one." "I believe you; I should be sorry for you if it were otherwise. But you must return and speak to your friend Balloquet. Balloquet! you must agree that that is a singular name for a physician. If I were ill, I would never put myself in the hands of a doctor named Balloquet!" "So you think that the name is of some consequence, do you, madame?" "Much, monsieur; if your name had been Balloquet, I could never have made up my mind to say that you were a friend of my girlhood."