“Thanks. I wanted to know whether you thought his face and form required that his words should be among the meanings of noble music?” Klesmer was conquered, and flashed at her a delightful smile which made them quite friendly until she begged to be deposited by the side of her mamma.
Three minutes afterward her preparations for Grandcourt’s indifference were all canceled. Turning her head after some remark to her mother, she found that he had made his way up to her.
“May I ask if you are tired of dancing, Miss Harleth?” he began, looking down with his former unperturbed expression.
“Not in the least.”
“Will you do me the honor—the next—or another quadrille?”
“I should have been very happy,” said Gwendolen looking at her card, “but I am engaged for the next to Mr. Clintock—and indeed I perceive that I am doomed for every quadrille; I have not one to dispose of.” She was not sorry to punish Mr. Grandcourt’s tardiness, yet at the same time she would have liked to dance with him. She gave him a charming smile as she looked up to deliver her answer, and he stood still looking down at her with no smile at all.
“I am unfortunate in being too late,” he said, after a moment’s pause.
“It seemed to me that you did not care for dancing,” said Gwendolen. “I thought it might be one of the things you had left off.”
“Yes, but I have not begun to dance with you,” said Grandcourt. Always there was the same pause before he took up his cue. “You make dancing a new thing, as you make archery.”
“Is novelty always agreeable?”