"I ... I could dance a polka," he replied, getting up, and to prove his stability he got onto the chair, made a pirouette and jumped onto the bed, where his thick, muddy shoes made two great marks. "Oh! you dirty brute!" the girl cried, and rushing at him, she struck him a blow with her fist in the stomach, such a blow that Pavilly lost his balance, fell and struck the foot of the bed, and making a complete somersault tumbled onto the night-table, dragging the jug and basin with him, and then rolled onto the ground, roaring. The noise was so loud, and his cries so piercing, that everybody in the house rushed in, the master, mistress, servant, and the staff. The master picked him up, but as soon as he had put him on his legs, the peasant lost his balance again, and then began to call out that his leg was broken, the other leg, the sound one. It was true, so they sent for a doctor, and it happened to be the same one who had attended him at Le Harivan's. "What! Is it you again?" he said. "Yes, M'sieu." "What is the matter with you?" "Somebody has broken my other leg for me, M'sieu." "Who did it, old fellow?" "Why, a female." Everybody was listening. The girls in their dressing gowns, with their mouths still greasy from their interrupted dinner, the mistress of the house furious, the master nervous. "This will be a bad job," the doctor said. "You know that the municipal authorities look upon you with very unfavorable eyes, so we must try and hush the matter up." "How can it be managed?" the master of the place asked. "Why the best way would be to send him back to the hospital, from which he has just come out, and to pay for him there." "I would rather do that," the master of the house replied, "than have any fuss made about the matter." So half an hour later, Pavilly returned drunk and groaning to the ward which he had left an hour before. The Superior lifted up her hands in sorrow, for she liked him, and with a smile, for she was glad to have him back. "Well, my good fellow, what is the matter with you now?" "The other leg is broken, Madame." "So you have been getting onto another load of straw, you old joker?" And Pavilly, in great confusion, but still sly, said, with hesitation: "No... no.... Not this time, no ... not this time. No ... no.... It was not my fault, not my fault ...A mattress caused this." She could get no other explanation out of him, and never knew that his relapse was due to her twenty-five francs. THE VENUS OF BRANIZA Some years ago there lived in Braniza, a celebrated Talmadist, who was renowned no less on account of his beautiful wife, than of his wisdom, his learning, and his fear of God. The Venus of Braniza deserved that name thoroughly, for she deserved it for herself, on account of her singular beauty, and even more as the wife of a man who was deeply versed in the Talmud; for the wives of the Jewish philosophers are, as a rule, ugly, or even possess some bodily defect.