I had no inclination whatever to put Aunt Chalumeau's make-up to the test,édé and I told Cousin Ravinet, who struck me as being well primed, and persisted in hanging on my arm:
"I will tell you in confidence that I shall not polk again for some time; I am very tired."
"Oh! that's a pity. Do you belong to the Opéra?"
"Are you related to my cousin's landlord?"
"And that lady who was dancing with you don't belong to the Opéra, either?"
"We all thought you did. You jigged it so well!"
"I have that honor. Do me the favor to tell me what Monsieur Bocal's business is."
"I know that he's the bride's father, and that he's Monsieur Guillardin's tenant; that's all."
"What! you don't know Bocal the distiller's shop, on Rue Montmartre? He's one of the largest distillers in Paris."
"I must tell you that I very rarely have dealings with distillers."
"He's the man who makes the syrup of punch--that's a famous brew! Did you ever drink it?"
"Oh! you must take some, and tell us what you think of it.--Come here quick, Cousin Bocal! I say! here's a gentleman from your landlord's party; he's never tasted your punch."
The stout man with the glassy eyes stopped at Cousin Ravinet's summons; then he came to me and gripped my other arm, saying with an effusiveness that scorched my cheeks, for he had the unpleasant habit of speaking within an inch of your nose:
"Ah! monsieur, you're one of my landlord's guests. Surely you won't insult me by joining us without taking something?--Here, waiter!"
"You are too good, Monsieur Bocal, but----"
"The punch is made with my syrup; it's perfumed, and sweetens your breath."
"That is what I was just saying to monsieur, cousin----"
"Waiter! bring some punch! My cousin is calling you!"
Cousin Ravinet was determined to do his part. The two men held me so that I could not escape. A waiter arrived with a salver. I realized that I should get into serious difficulty if I refused; it would be quite likely to draw down upon me the wrath of Madame Girie, whom I spied in a corner, whispering with some other women. So I swallowed the glass of punch, hoping that I should be set free; but I was disappointed. Monsieur Bocal led me away toward his daughter Pétronille, saying:
"Oh! you must dance with her. My landlord refused to dance, but he's an elderly man. But a famous dancer, a zephyr, like you, can't refuse."