“Since you admit that, perhaps you can waltz properly?” said Mrs. Dodd.
Alfred said he ought; he had given his whole soul to it in Germany last Long.
“Then I can have the pleasure of dropping the tyrant. Away with you both while there is room to circulate.”
Alfred took his partner delicately; they made just two catlike steps forward, and melted into the old-fashioned waltz.
It was an exquisite moment. To most young people Love comes after a great deal of waltzing. But this pair brought the awakened tenderness and trembling sensibilities of two burning hearts to this their first intoxicating whirl. To them, therefore, everything was an event, everything was a thrill—the first meeting and timid pressure of their hands, the first delicate enfolding of her supple waist by his strong arm but trembling hand, the delightful unison of their unerring feet, the movement, the music, the soft delicious whirl, her cool breath saluting his neck, his ardent but now liquid eyes seeking hers tenderly, and drinking them deep, hers that now and then sipped his so sweetly—all these were new and separate joys, that linked themselves in one soft delirium of bliss. It was not a waltz it was an Ecstasy.
Starting almost alone, this peerless pair danced a gauntlet. On each side admiration and detraction buzzed all the time.
“Beautiful! They are turning in the air.”
“Quite gone by. That's how the old fogies dance.”
Chorus of shallow males: “How well she waltzes.”
Chorus of shallow females: “How well he waltzes.”