Excerpt from The Works of Charles Paul De Kock, Vol. 1: Monsieur Dupont The young peasant girls wore their charming light dresses and lace caps, and some had on their silk aprons, which are as much of a luxury for them as is a French cashmere for a bourgeoise, or an India cashmere for a woman of a different class. Pleasure shone on every face. Those who danced did it with all their might, and those who looked on promised themselves the next square dance, and already enjoyed it in anticipation. Some Paris people mingled with the peasants. The little shop girls, who had come out walking with their sweethearts, did not disdain this village ball. Some stout mammas, seated all the week at their counters, teased and enticed their husbands to undertake at least one figure; and these gentle men yielded after much entreaty; and, once set going, nothing could stop them. The shopmen turned to the dance in search of the prettiest faces, and the old libertines of Paris prowled like wolves in the wood, in search of that which would please them better. At some little distance from the ball, in the midst of the wood, which seemed like the centre of an amphitheatre, a numerous company of peo ple was seated on the grass, or, rather, on the sand; napkins were spread upon the ground and covered with pates, pie, cold meat, and fruit. Bottles were placed to cool, glasses were filled and emptied rapidly; the collation was dainty, and appetite and the fresh air made everything taste good. They formed plates of paper; they sent bits of pie and sausage ying through the air they ate, they drank, they sang, they laughed, they played tricks; each rivalled the other in provoking fim. It is agreed that everything is permitted in the country, and the bourgeois party gathered in the wood at Romainville acted as though fully aware of this custom. A stout papa of about fifty years was trying to carve a turkey, and he did not succeed very well. A rosy, buxom little woman, very round in figure, hastened to seize one leg of the roast fowl; she pulled on one side, and the stout papa pulled on the other; the leg came off; the lady fell on the grass in one direction, and the stout gentleman rolled off in another with the remainder of the bird. Everyone burst into laughter, and M. Moutonnet - for that is the name of the stout papa - returned to his place and declared that he would no longer try to carve. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works."