All matters being amicably adjusted, my mother begged a morsel of meat, as she had not eaten any these ten years. In a few minutes, a small table, furnished with a cold turkey and a decanter of wine, was laid for her in the bower. The moment she perceived it, she ran, and seating herself in the scene of my recent triumph, began devouring with such avidity, that I was thunderstruck. One wing soon went; the second shared the fate of its companion, and now she set about a large slice of the breast.
'What a charming appetite your dear mother has got!' said several of the guests to me. I confessed it, but assured them that inordinate hunger did not run in our family. Her appetite being at last satiated, she next assailed the wine. Glass after glass disappeared with inconceivable rapidity, and every glass went to my heart. 'She will be quite intoxicated!' thought I; while my fears for the hereditary honour of our house overcoming my personal terrors, I had the resolution to steal across, and whisper:
'Mother, if you have any regard for your daughter, and respect for your ancestors, drink no more.'
'No more than this decanter, upon my honour!' said she, applying it to her lips.
At this moment the violins struck up.
'And now,' cried my mother, running down from the bower, 'who is for a dance?'
'I am,' said my friend, the little fop, advancing, and taking her hand.
'Then,' said she, 'we will waltz, if you please.'
Santa Maria!—Waltz!
A circle was cleared, and they began whirling each other round at a frightful rate,—or rather she him; for he was like a plaything in her hands; and had he let go his grasp, I am sure he would have been flung up among the branches, and have stuck there, like King Charles in the oak.