University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.
PHILOSOPHY OF THE “DANCE.”

In a few moments, Sansoucy had joined Mr. Incledon,
who was conversing with some friends, and they exchanged
a smiling greeting.

“Well, here I am,” said Sansoucy, “in good health
and spirits.”

“You always are.”

“Nearly.”

“Are you prepared for the ordeal?”

“Your friends?”

“Yes.”

“I don't expect anything dreadful! Where are they?”

“In the next room.”

“Let us go there.”

They penetrated the crowd, and passing through, gained
the threshold of the next room.

“Here is a little dance going on,” said Sansoucy, “the
great spectacle of modern times—dancing.”

“Do you like it?”

“Do you mean waltzing?”

“If you choose.”

“Well, yes and no. I have no sister, or probably I
should have omitted the first part of my reply.”

“How carelessly you regard everything, Ernest.”

“Because everything is ridiculous—almost.”

“Somethings are serious.”

That is true.”

“And this abominable German usage we have imported—
the polka and the schottish too—seems to me just of that
description.”

“Ah? serious?

“Yes,” said Incledon, “is it not monstrous that a young
lady should stand here on this floor and permit a man—I
do not say a gentleman, for any one who procures an introduction
is insulted by a refusal—permit a man, a mere
stranger I say, to press her body to his own—his arm
around her waist—and this just in the fashion it may suit
him! Look at that couple whirling up to us! With the
merest motion of his head he might touch her lips with his
own—there they pass us! See her partner's arm! I am
not prudish, Sansoucy,” said Incledon, sternly, “but I
agree with a very bad authority, Lord Byron, that it is
revolting!”

“Revolting!”

“Yes: I know how ridiculous such `Puritanical' ideas
are thought — and that child yonder to whom I gave
sugar-plums last year, would twirl her fan, and look at me
with affected surprise if I would presume to say this dance
was objectionable. It is very outre, very prudish, very
severe, to find fault with the `harmless amusement' of
young people, I would be told, and then with a laugh, I
am dismissed.”

Sansoucy smiled, in his old way.

“What would you have, my dear friend?” he said, “we
must take the world as it is—Ca ira! What is the use of
being solemn? Those fascinating young ladies like to be
embraced in this pleasant way; and assuredly you would

not break their tender hearts, by interdicting this delightful
pastime! If the present season clings to the waltz,
don't you know that they will all waltz? If next year it is
the fashion to embrace with both arms, can't you comprehend
that many will find the amusement still more piquant,
and obey implicitly the fashionable dictum? They like it,
my dear Incledon, and instead of arguing upon the subject
in a heated way, why look at it as I do, philosophically.
These charming damsels like to be embraced;—
ask Mr. Fantish, yonder, and he will tell you that as the
music grows faster, and the arm tighter, they absolutely
laugh out their delight—why quarrel, then? The waltz
and polka present an `eligible opportunity' for this warm
interchange of feeling, and they embrace—it.”

Incledon's face had assumed so cold and haughty an
expression at the name of Fantish, that Sansoucy gazed at
him with curious interest; but this expression of coldness
soon passed, and Incledon said,

“I am sorry your philosophy is so careless, Ernest.”

“Careless?”

“You assuredly are.”

“Not at all.”

“You defend waltzing.”

“Not in the least.”

“Why this very moment—”

“Come, now, you are going to arraign me. I don't
defend it, my dear friend. I only observe that I have no
female relatives present.”

Incledon nodded.

“I am a sphynx—I speak in riddles as you know. I

mean that I have no sister, cousin, niece, or other charming
baggage here. If I had, I think I should issue my
orders—I beg pardon of the ladies—my requests—”

“Yes.”

“Not to waltz,” added Sansoucy. “I go with gentlemen
of Mr. Fantish's style upon that subject. When you
see the sister or cousin of a `fast man' waltzing, come
and tell me, and I will put it under the head of `notable
occurrences' in the Journal. No, my dear friend, I have
known some very eccentric gentlemen of fashion, and, but
for the fear of seeming harsh, I would say some very coarse
and disagreeable companions, but I have never known one
who liked his sister to waltz. Now we have been moralizing
enough, and I know I am telling you nothing new. Let
us get in. What a charming little Christian yonder.”

“Where?”

“Waltzing.”

“What a pity,” said Incledon.

“Pity? It's a shame!” said Sansoucy, but checking
himself, he added, “now I am growing moralist. Where
are your friends?”

“Over there,” said Incledon, gazing sadly at the excited
crowd, “let us get through.”

“That tall full lady?”

“Is one of them.”

“And the other.”

“There: come, let me introduce you.”

And Incledon smiled. As he did so, Sansoucy drew
back, almost blushing.

It was Aurelia.