"Monsieur Balloquet," said I, "I would be glad to say a word to you, if possible." "It isn't possible at this moment. I am engaged. I am explaining to mademoiselle the proper method of applying leeches." And Balloquet gave me a meaning glance. I understood that his interview had reached an interesting point, and I was about to walk away, when I felt a hand on my arm. It was the little marionette named Ravinet, who was trying to make fast to me, and shouting--for everybody in the room shouted instead of speaking: "Ah! you're one of the landlord's guests; I recognize you. You're the man who polks so well! It's very polite of you to come back to us. You'll polk again, won't you? If you want to please Aunt Chalumeau, you'll invite her; poor, dear woman, she's never polked in her life, and she's dying to. Her hair dresser told her she had the right make-up." I had no inclination whatever to put Aunt Chalumeau's make-up to the test, and I told Cousin Ravinet, who struck me as being well primed, and persisted in hanging on my arm: "I will tell you in confidence that I shall not polk again for some time; I am very tired." "Oh! that's a pity. Do you belong to the Opéra?" "I? No, indeed!" "Are you related to my cousin's landlord?" "No; I am a friend of his." "And that lady who was dancing with you don't belong to the Opéra, either?" "By no means." "We all thought you did. You jigged it so well!" "Monsieur Ravinet----" "Ah! you know my name!" "I have that honor. Do me the favor to tell me what Monsieur Bocal's business is." "What's that! don't you know my cousin?" "I know that he's the bride's father, and that he's Monsieur Guillardin's tenant; that's all." "What! you don't know Bocal the distiller's shop, on Rue Montmartre? He's one of the largest distillers in Paris." "Ah! he's a distiller, is he?" "Why, everybody knows him!" "I must tell you that I very rarely have dealings with distillers." "He's the man who makes the syrup of punch--that's a famous brew! Did you ever drink it?" "No; and I am not anxious to." "Oh! you must take some, and tell us what you think of it.--Come here quick, Cousin Bocal! I say! here's a gentleman from your landlord's party; he's never tasted your punch." The stout man with the glassy 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!"