"He insisted, too, that my mother-in-law shouldn't live with us." "In that respect I applaud him; for mothers-in-law seldom agree with their daughters-in-law." "Especially as Madame Girie---- Why, she's a woman that would set mountains to fighting if she could; and yet, she says she adores her children! it's amazing how happy they've been with her! Pamphile's younger brother was very delicate, so she said; she insisted on his purging himself all the time, taking cathartics and enemas. When he came home at night after dining out, Madame Girie was always waiting for him on the stairs, with a syringe. If he refused to have an enema, she'd chase him through all the rooms. The next day, she'd purge him without telling him, by putting something in his coffee. In fact, she pestered the poor boy so with what she called her little attentions, that one fine morning he went off and enlisted in the dragoons; he preferred that to being syringed." "Faith! I believe that I would have done the same if I had been in his place." "Madame Girie said he was an ingrate. She didn't want her other son, Pamphile, to marry, so's he could stay with her. You can see that that prospect didn't tempt him, especially as Madame Girie wanted to run the business, and as she found a way to quarrel with all the customers. One day, she refused to sell a man sponges, because he didn't bow to her when he came in; another time, it was a woman who spoke to her as if she was a servant. In fact, if she'd stayed with Pamphile a while longer, it would have been all up with his business; for no one would come there to buy. Well! here we are married. We make Madame Girie an allowance, but it won't be enough for her, you see! she's never had any idea how to take care of money, she always runs right through it.--Ah! it's our turn, monsieur; this is the _poule_." When the _poule_ figure was at an end, the bride said to me, with an ironical air: "It don't seem to me that there's any need of my holding myself so straight to dance with you. They said you were such a fine dancer!" "Cousin Ravinet was mistaken, madame, in saying that I danced well." "Oh! as to that, if you were dancing with the lady you had a little while ago, you'd jump higher, I suppose." "I beg you to believe that no partner could induce me to jump any higher." "Freluchon dances mighty well, I tell you; he bounds like a rubber ball." "That is a gift of nature, and I would not contend with the gentleman. Is he a relation of yours?" "Freluchon? No; he's head salesman in pa's shop. He cried when he heard I was going to be married." "The deuce! was it with pleasure?" "Well, I guess not! it was with something else. But I consoled him; I told him I'd be his friend as long as we live, and that he could kiss me every Sunday." "I can imagine, madame, that such a prospect dried his tears." "It's our turn! it's our turn!"