It is really most unpleasant to be a wall-flower, and Madame Volenville, not knowing what method to employ to attract a partner, deliberated whether to show the lower part of her leg; it had formerly performed miracles, and it would be as well to try its power, as the foot produced no effect.
She decided to do it; the lower part of the calf was about to be shown as modestly as possible, when suddenly there was a loud call for a fourth couple to fill up a quadrille. There were no more ladies remaining; some had left the party, and all the rest were on the floor. A young man, well-curled and well-perfumed, glanced about the ball-room; he spied the auctioneer’s wife, resigned himself to his fate, and walked gravely toward her to ask her to dance. Madame Volenville did not give the young man time to finish his invitation; she rose, darted toward him, seized his hand, and squeezed it so that she almost made him cry out. Our dandy jumped back; he concluded that the poor woman was subject to hysterical attacks; he gazed at her uneasily, not knowing what course to pursue; but Madame Volenville gave him little time for reflection: she dragged him roughly away toward the incomplete quadrille; she took her place, bowed to her partner, and led him through the cat’s tail and the ladies’ chain, before he had recovered from his bewilderment.
The heroic and free-and-easy manner of Madame Volenville’s dancing created a sensation; a confused murmur ran through the salon and the young men left the card-table for the place where our auctioneeress was performing. She considered this eagerness to watch her very flattering, and was enchanted by it; she danced with redoubled fire and animation, and tried to electrify her partner, who did not seem to share her vivacity; flushing with rage when he saw the circle which had formed about him, and heard the sarcastic compliments which the young men addressed to him, and the spiteful remarks of the young women, he bit his lips, clenched his fists, and would have given all that he possessed to have the quadrille come to a close. But Madame Volenville left him but little time to himself; she was almost always in the air; she insisted upon balancing, or going forward and back, all the time, despite the remonstrances of her partner, who said to her until he was hoarse:
“It isn’t our turn, madame; in a minute; that figure is finished; pray stop!”
But Madame Volenville was started, and she was determined to make up to herself for five hours of waiting; and when by chance she did pause for a second, her glance rested complacently upon the large crowd which surrounded her; and as with her handkerchief she wiped away the drops of perspiration which stood on her brow, her eyes seemed to say to the throng:
“You didn’t expect to see such dancing as this, eh? Another time, perhaps you will ask me!”
Meanwhile the torture of Belcour—that was the name of Madame Volenville’s partner—was approaching its end; the quadrille was almost finished; already they had thrice performed the famous chassez les huit; once more, and all would have been over, when a young notary’s clerk, a mischievous joker, who loved a laugh, like most of his fellows, conceived the idea of running to the orchestra, and asking for a jig in the name of the whole company. The musicians at a wedding party never refuse any request, and they began to play a jig at the moment that Belcour bowed to Madame Volenville and attempted to slink away.
The voice of Orpheus imploring the gods of the infernal regions did not produce so much effect upon Pluto as the strains of the violins and the air of the jig produced upon Madame Volenville.
“Monsieur! monsieur! it isn’t over yet,” she cried to Belcour, who was walking away. He pretended not to hear, and was already near the door of the salon, when Madame Volenville ran after him, caught him and arrested his steps.
“Monsieur, what are you doing? Don’t you hear the violins? Ah! what a pretty tune! it’s a jig; come quickly!”