On they came, round and round and never weary, two at a time--a mechanic and a grisette, a rustic and a Normandy girl, a tall soldier and a short widow, a fat tradesman and his wife, a couple of milliners assistants who preferred dancing together to not dancing at all, and so forth.
"How I wish somebody would ask me, _ma mere_!" said a coquettish brunette, close by, with a sidelong glance at ourselves." "You shall dance with your brother Paul, my dear, as soon as he comes," replied her mother, a stout _bourgeoise_ with a green fan.
"But it is such dull work to dance with one's brother!" pouted the brunette.

"If it were one's cousin, even, it would be different." Mr.Frank Sullivan flung away his cigar, and began buttoning up his gloves.
"I'll take that damsel out immediately," said he.

"A girl who objects to dance with her brother deserves encouragement." So away he went with his hat inclining jauntily on one side, and, having obtained the mother's permission, whirled away with the pretty brunette into the very thickest of the throng.
"There they are!" said Dalrymple, suddenly.

"There's the wedding party.
_Per Bacco_! but our little bride is charming!" "And the bridegroom is a handsome specimen of rusticity." "Yes--a genuine pastoral pair, like a Dresden china shepherd and shepherdess.

See, the girl is looking up in his face--he shakes his head.