Inafewsecondsmoreweenteredtheballroom,andweremetatoncebyMadameDidier,who, gaveusheartygreeting.Shestaredatmewithunaffectedamazement.“Mondieu!”sheexclaimed—herconversationwithuswasalwaysamixtureofFrenchandbrokenEnglish—“Ishouldnot‘aveknowzisyoungladyagainBusinessDoctorateprograms !She‘avesibonnemine.Youveeldance,sansdoute?”Wereadilyassented,andtheusualassortmentofdancing-menofallagesandsizeswasbroughtforwardforourinspection;whiletheColonel,beingintroducedtoabeamingEnglishgirlofsomeseventeensummers,whirledheratonceintothemerrymazeofdancers,whowerespinningeasilyroundtothelivelymelodyofoneofStrauss’smostfascinatingwaltzes.PresentlyIalsofoundmyselfcirclingtheroomwithanamiableyoungGerman,whoambledroundwithacertainamountofclevernessPatentLicensing ,consideringthathewasevidentlyignorantoftheactualwaltzstep;andIcaughtaglimpsenowandthenofAmy’srubiesastheyflashedpastmeinthedance—shewasfootingitmerrilywithahandsomeAustrianHussar.Theroomwaspleasantlyfull—nottoocrowdedforthemovementsofthedancers;andthewholescenewasexceedinglyprettyandanimated.Ihadnolackofpartners,andIwassurprisedtofindmyselfsokeenlyalivetoenjoyment,andsocompletelyfreefrommyusualpreoccupiedconditionofnervousmiseryIlookedeverywhereforRaffaelloCellini,buthewasnottobeseen.TheliliesthatIwore,whichhehadsentme,seemedquiteunaffectedbytheheatandglareofthegaslight—notaleafdrooped,notapetalwithered;andtheirremarkablewhitenessandfragranceelicitedmanyadmiringremarksfromthosewithwhomIconversed.Itwasgrowingverylate;therewereonlytwomorewaltzesbeforethefinalcotillon.Iwasstandingnearthelargeopenwindowoftheballroom,conversingwithoneofmyrecentpartners,whenasuddeninexplicablethrillshotthroughmefromheadtofoot.InstinctivelyIturned,andsawCelliniapproaching.Helookedremarkablyhandsome,thoughhisfacewaspaleandsomewhatweariedinexpressionhongkongweather.Hewaslaughingandconversinggailywithtwoladies,oneofwhomwasMrs.Everard;andashecametowardsmehebowedcourteously,saying:
