The quadrille began. The bride went into it with all her heart; she was a buxom wench, who had made up her mind to let herself go on her wedding day, and was determined to do what she had set out to do. If only I did not get in the way of her feet, I felt that I should be lucky. The tall old man, who stood opposite her, danced with a zeal deserving of the greatest praise; he persisted in taking all the little steps and even essayed some leaps and bounds; the perspiration rolled down his face after the second figure, but he did not omit a step. He was a conscientious dancer, and would have been in great demand under the Empire. The little girl hopped about in every direction, and made a mess of every figure; she was always behind me when she should have been in front; but I was indifferent and let her wander about at her pleasure. I was convinced that Cousin Ravinet had spread the information that I was a famous dancer, for there was a crowd about our set. The good people must have been sadly disappointed, as I did nothing but walk through the figures. Indeed, I heard some voices muttering: "Bah! it wasn't worth while to put ourselves out; I can dance better than that. Ravinet must have seen double; he don't even know how to do the _basque_ step!" I felt called upon to try to talk with the bride. "You must be tired, madame?" "Tired? why?" "You have probably been dancing a long while." "_Dame!_ if the bride didn't dance, it would be a pretty wedding! The men have to ask me to dance; that's what they were invited for." I bit my lip, as I rejoined: "This is a very happy day for you, madame, is it not?" "A happy day! Oh! it's rather amusing just now; but I've found it pretty stupid all day!" "Ah! is that so? But I presume that you love the man you have married?" "Oh, yes! well enough, as far as that goes; not too much; but it'll come; pa said it would come." "Would it be impertinent of me to ask what your husband's business is?" "My husband's? He sells sponges, at wholesale; we're going to keep a sponge shop." "That must be a good business." "_Dame!_ I don't know anything about it. I shan't like it very much to be among sponges all the time. But we won't have any dog, anyway; that was one of the first conditions I made." "Ah! you don't want a dog; I judge that you dislike dogs?" "Mon Dieu! no, I like all kinds of animals. But it's on account of the song." "Ah! is there a song about dogs?" "About the _Sponge Man's Dog_! Don't you know that song?" "No; I must admit that it is entirely unknown to me." "It's a comic song; every verse ends like this: 'And it was the sponge man's dog.'--Everybody knows that refrain, and pa says to Pamphile: 'If you had a dog, people would always sing that song when they saw him. That might injure your business.'--And Pamphile says: 'I'll never have a dog, I swear,' and I married him. Pa did well, didn't he?" "I admire Monsieur Bocal's foresight."