It was Mademoiselle Giraud who made this announcement. Giraud left me to whip his older son. Thereupon Bélan approached me. “Haven’t you told Giraud to ask me to sing, that he doesn’t mention it?” “Mon Dieu, Bélan, let us alone with your singing! We’ve had quite enough of it! We prefer to dance.” “That is because you have not heard me; I know very well that I should have given pleasure; I learned a tune on purpose. By the way, you don’t know--Hélène treats me coldly, yes, very coldly; she doesn’t like it because I ran away so suddenly when I saw her husband. Can you imagine such a thing? As if I could guess that she would invent a story on the instant! However, she can be mad if she chooses, it’s all one to me; I no longer care for her in the least; I still see her putting her hand in my eye when we tipped over. She wasn’t pretty then. I have views on that little woman in black yonder--do you see, a stout party, with an ardent glance; that is promising.” “But she is married; her husband is playing écarté; he is a receiver in the Registration Office.” “Good! so much the better, we will play some fine tricks on the receiver.” More dancing; this time Mademoiselle Eugénie was at the piano. She played with much ease and taste. I regretted that I was not a musician; I had given painting the preference. Painting is a delightful art, but it does not afford the same advantages in society as music. In a salon, people will neglect the painter to pet and coddle the musician: in truth, one does not always think of dancing and singing. The quadrille was only half through when the two lamps went out once more. The last two figures were danced in a half light, or rather in semi-darkness. Everybody laughed while Madame Giraud scolded her husband, and he exclaimed: “Faith! I give it up, I am wasting my time. Théodore, tell the maid to bring more candles.” Théodore left the salon, but only to pay a visit to the sideboard in the dining-room. A third contradance was formed without any improvement in the light; it began, accompanied by the cries of Madame Giraud, still calling for more candles; by the lamentations of Giraud, who kept raising and lowering the wicks of his lamps to no purpose; by the howling of the three children who were quarrelling over the sweetmeats, and by the barking of the dog, who escorted all the departing guests to the door, yelping at their heels. Bélan, who was dancing opposite the stout party, paid little heed to the noise and thought only of performing his figures; but the semi-darkness which reigned in the salon prevented him from seeing a slice of orange which Monsieur Théodore had dropped from his pocket; as he tried to execute a slide, Bélan slid in good earnest, and fell between the legs of his vis-à-vis. The ladies shrieked with terror. Bélan rose, holding his side and swearing that he would not have fallen if he had not trodden upon something. The little Giraud girl picked up the crushed slice of orange and cried: