Cousin Ravinet was determined to do his part. The two men held me so that I could not escape. A waiter arrived with a salver. I realized that I should get into serious difficulty if I refused; it would be quite likely to draw down upon me the wrath of Madame Girie, whom I spied in a corner, whispering with some other women. So I swallowed the glass of punch, hoping that I should be set free; but I was disappointed. Monsieur Bocal led me away toward his daughter Pétronille, saying: "You must dance with the bride." "It's a very great honor, but----" "Oh! you must dance with her. My landlord refused to dance, but he's an elderly man. But a famous dancer, a zephyr, like you, can't refuse." I did not know how to evade the honors with which I was overwhelmed. Monsieur Bocal had already said to his daughter: "Pétronille, you're going to dance with monsieur--my landlord's friend." "But, papa, I am going to dance with Freluchon." "What do I care for Freluchon! I tell you, Pétronille, you're going to dance with monsieur; and you'll see how he dances. All you've got to do is stand straight----" "But I promised poor Freluchon two hours ago, and he's gone to wash his hands on purpose, because he's lost his gloves; he'll be mad." "For heaven's sake, Monsieur Bocal," said I, "don't let me interfere with your daughter's plans! I will dance with her later; I should be very sorry to offend anyone." "On the contrary, monsieur, it will give me much pleasure," said Bocal. "I don't care a snap of my finger whether Freluchon's angry or not. The idea of putting ourselves out for him! Not much! You shall dance this dance with the bride. Hark! there goes the orchestra; take your places quick!" Escape was impossible. What had I tumbled into? Those people were as obstinate as mules, and a refusal on my part would irritate them; people of little education are always extremely sensitive with fashionable persons, for they feel their inferiority; they are afraid of being laughed at, when no one has any idea of laughing at them. I made the best of it and took my place beside the bride, who did not act as if she were overjoyed to dance with me and probably regretted Freluchon. "Who's going to dance opposite the bride?" shouted Monsieur Bocal, in stentorian tones. "I am! I am! here I am!" And a tall, thin, bald-headed old man appeared, leading by the hand a girl of seven or eight. There was a vîs-à-vîs which would not afford me any distraction! I heard a muttering behind me, then groans, then Monsieur Bocal's voice above all the rest. It was probably Monsieur Freluchon, indignant to find that he had washed his hands for nothing.