Dupont carried his plan into execution; he had some trouble to avoid falling asleep in his chair when the clock struck ten. Several times he was on the point of getting into bed instead of putting on his dress coat; but, luckily, just as he was about to yield to his old habit, he glanced at his stomach and remembered that he could no longer button the last button of his waistcoat; whereupon he sprang to his feet and dressed in haste, muttering: "You poor devil, do you want to turn into a Punchinello? I shan't have a hump behind, to be sure, but one in front is just as laughable and much more inconvenient. I'll go to the ball, cut capers, and have a jolly time! Sapristi! this isn't a joking matter, it's a matter of remaining young!" Behold, therefore, our friend at the ball, gliding amid the throng that walked back and forth around the dancing enclosure, because from there one can look at the women at close quarters; one can even speak to them, joke with them, and offer them an arm when they are without an escort; all that is permissible at a masquerade ball. Indeed, what is not permissible there?--Dupont saw divers pretty creatures dressed as boatmen, sailors, jockeys, and postilions. As a general rule, ladies who dress in masculine costume wear no masks and are very glad to show their faces. They also disclose their shoulders and breasts; sometimes, indeed, there is too much abandon in their attire; they do not understand that the eye likes to have something to divine, and that a man is especially enamored of what he does not see. Dupont selected a very attractive little blonde dressed as a Columbine. To become better acquainted, he invited her to polk; but our worthy friend from Brives-la-Gaillarde did not know what a risk he was taking; he fancied that the polka was danced at the Opéra ball as it was danced in his province; above all, he was unaware that it always ended in a galop--and such a galop! it must be seen to be appreciated. It is a whirlwind; it is as if a sort of insane frenzy had taken possession of all the dancers, under the inspiration of the lively, rapid, deafening music that electrifies you and takes you off your feet; you no longer galop, you fly, you whirl madly about, you push and jostle everyone you meet! Be fearless and do not lose your head, or you will infallibly be thrown down. That is what happened to Dupont; he was not agile enough to hold his own in that bacchanalian dance; he fell and dragged his partner to the floor with him; she sprang quickly to her feet, and said in an angry tone: "When you don't know how to galop, my boy, you shouldn't ask a lady to dance." And the Columbine seized the arm of a Harlequin, and began to dance with him; while poor Dupont, who had not risen quickly enough, was struck by the feet of several dancers, and finally got up covered with bruises. As he was very lame in the knees, shoulders, and back, he left the ball and went home to bed, saying: