The portly buffoon, amazed that the ladies did not laugh also, grew calmer, and tried to be more sedate.
"You ladies have not told me whether you are pleased with this region."
"We were waiting until you had ceased laughing, monsieur.—Yes, this region pleases us exceedingly, and the surrounding country seemed lovely to us."
"Have you seen our promenade, the Poncelet?"
"No, monsieur; is it in the village?"
"It's on the square; a charming, delightful promenade; you would think that you were on the Champs-Elysées in Paris, barring the size."
"We haven't seen it yet."
"I venture to think that the society here will please you also. We have a little nucleus[L] of agreeable and clever people—not large, but large enough; you shall be one of us, you shall be our almond—Ha! ha!—but not bitter.—Ha! ha! ha!—joker that I am; I am the life of the whole neighborhood.—We generally meet at Madame Droguet's—a good house, well kept up; they live very well indeed; we play cards, and sometimes dance; Droguet is mad over dancing. I myself used to be rather a fine dancer once. I could do my little entrechat—in the good old way, I assure you! But I've put on a good deal of flesh, so that I am not so light of foot as I was. However, I can still hold my own in a quadrille! You ladies should be fond of dancing?"
"Not I, monsieur; but Agathe is very fond of it."
"In that case, madame, you will play cards with Madame Droguet. Do you know bézique?"