"Are you tired?" he asks, with a tenderness that touches her.
She still seems like one in a dream.
"No," she answers. "It was enchanting. I could dance forever. I don't know——"
Her voice falters and drops as the last notes of the music have done. It would be a mortal sin to awaken her. She shall dream on until the right time comes.
"Then you liked it?" His voice has a steady, reassuring tone. "There is another; shall we try it again, presently?"
This time it is the "Beautiful Blue Danube."
"Oh, no, no!" she says, vehemently.
The strains begin to float and throb again, light, airy, delicate, with one pathetic measure that always touches the soul. She rouses and listens, then the little hand creeps into his beseechingly.
"Oh," she says, "may I take that back! I think I was beside myself. Will you waltz with me again?"
It is an exquisite waltz, pure, dreamy pleasure, delicious to the last bar, and nothing has startled her. He watches her lovely flower-like face that is full of supreme content.