“Very well,” said the notary, resuming his seat; “after all, the end justifies the means.”
The four dancers were on the point of beginning their performance, when Nicole appeared with milk and cups. They pounced upon the latter and declared that they proposed to have something to drink first.
While they were drinking, Chérubin kept his eyes constantly on those four women, who were so utterly unlike all the women he had ever before seen. Monsieur Gérondif poured the milk for the dancers with his own hands.
“Assuredly I bear a resemblance to Ganymede at this moment,” he said to them. “He served Jupiter, I serve Terpsichore and her sisters.”
“I say,” said Malvina, snatching the pail from the professor’s hand, “you make us sick, pouring it out so, drop by drop! I’d rather drink as much as I like—it’s a quicker way.”
“It’s amazing how thirsty they are, for fashionable ladies,” said old Jasmin, rolling his eyes in wonderment.
When the milk was exhausted, the four dancers took their places. The others were seated, Daréna with his kit. He played the air of the Jota Arragonaise, and the ladies began to dance with much grace and lightness of foot.
The peasants were lost in admiration. Jasmin applauded; Monsieur Gérondif no longer lowered his eyes, and his whole face was as red and inflamed as his nose.
Monfréville and the notary watched Chérubin; he seemed fascinated, enchanted by the novel spectacle presented to him, and his eyes did not grow weary of gazing at those young and pretty women, whose steps, whose attitudes, whose slightest movements were instinct with pleasure and licentiousness. Daréna, observing the effect produced by the dance, played a livelier air, then another in even quicker time. The dancers followed the change of tempo, and their dance became more rapid, more seductive. They seemed to vie with one another in grace and litheness; their eyes, enlivened by the violent exercise, shone brighter and with more fire. Jasmin applauded wildly, Monsieur Gérondif scratched his nose as if he would demolish it, and Chérubin became much moved. At that moment, excited by the zest with which she danced, Mademoiselle Malvina began to hurl her legs into space with such vigor that it was impossible for the spectators to avoid seeing that she wore no drawers.
“They are bayadères!” cried Monsieur Gérondif, whose eyes were almost out of his head; “it’s the Mozambique dance! it’s very interesting!”