The cracked brass instruments of the orchestra were furiously thundering a quadrille, a perfect tempest which made the hall shake; while the dancers, striking the floor with their feet, raised a cloud of dust which dimmed the brightness of the gas.

The heat was unbearable.
"Look there," said Gervaise suddenly.
"Look at what ?" "Why, at that velvet hat over there." They raised themselves up on tiptoe.

On the left hand there was an old black velvet hat trimmed with ragged feathers bobbing about--regular hearse's plumes.

It was dancing a devil of a dance, this hat--bouncing and whirling round, diving down and then springing up again.

Coupeau and Gervaise lost sight of it as the people round about moved their heads, but then suddenly they saw it again, swaying farther off with such droll effrontery that folks laughed merely at the sight of this dancing hat, without knowing what was underneath it.
"Well ?" asked Coupeau.
"Don't you recognize that head of hair ?" muttered Gervaise in a stifled voice.