"What is it, my nymph, eh?" cried Cherami; "what did old Père Blanquette say to you?"
"He declares that our dance isn't proper."
"Ah! that's very fine! What box has he just come out of, to be shocked at our dance? Doesn't he go to the play, I wonder? Hasn't he ever seen the Spanish dancers? They've been at almost all the theatres. Ah! bigre! if he'd seen those females do their fandangos, their iotas, and their boleros, and indulge in all sorts of antics, showing their legs, yes, and their garters too! that's much worse than the cancan. But that doesn't prevent those Spaniards from drawing the crowd, wherever they are. And you don't like it, because I dance the cancan, and yet you rush to see licentious dances performed by women whose costumes add to the effect of their dancing! Sapristi! for God's sake, try to make up your mind what you want!—Our turn, my Terpsichore; attention! this is the pastourelle, and I am saving a little surprise for you in the cavalier seul."
Aunt Merlin darted off like an arrow, paying no heed to the remonstrances of Père Blanquette, who heaved sigh upon sigh when he saw how easy it is to lead a woman on to make a fool of herself, even when her age should make her sensible. But the time came for Cherami to perform the cavalier seul; excited by all that he had drunk, and recalling the feats of his younger days, he performed the evolution called the araignée, which consists in throwing yourself flat on your stomach in front of the opposite couple. This bit of gymnastics was greeted with frantic laughter; and Aunt Merlin, turning to Papa Blanquette, cried:
"What do you say to that? Could you do as much?"
"No, certainly not, madame; and I wouldn't try," retorted the uncle; "but I consider it very presumptuous. Your partner must have the devil in him, to do such crazy things!"
Aunt Merlin had ceased to listen; the last figure had arrived, that in which the galop is the leading feature; and said Cherami, as he put his arm about her waist:
"We'll just show the others how to galop. Fichtre! they'd better look out for themselves. They ran into me when they were waltzing, but we'll pay them back in their own coin."
With that, he started off with his partner, whirling her about as they danced. Beau Arthur had been one of the most notable performers in the formidable galops which are a feature of the masked balls at the Opéra. The punch renewed the vigor of his youth. Throwing himself headlong into the midst of the assemblage, dancers and onlookers, he rushed through the room like a whirlwind or an avalanche, hurling this one aside, colliding with that one, and sowing confusion everywhere. In vain did they shout to him:
"Stop, monsieur; stop at once! you're throwing the ladies down!"