“Too true,” replied Cristiano, “and here is the finale; let us tread it lightly, for it is the handful of earth cast upon the romance entitled ‘The First Quadrille’!”
But it was not ordained that this quadrille should end according to choregraphic laws. M. Stangstadius, having at last finished the copious repast, which he called a mere snack between the supper and the after-supper, just at this moment came out from the refreshment-room. Absorbed in some lofty conception awakened in his mind by the agreeable effort of prosperous digestion, and coming upon the young dancers in his progress, he marched unceremoniously straight through them, running against the cavaliers who were just exhibiting their graces in the “forward two,” and treading on the little feet of the ladies as if they had been so many pebbles. His extravagant limping rendered his gait so ridiculous that every one burst out laughing. The dance was quite broken up; and the young couples, taking hold of each other’s hands, executed a rapid and noisy rondo about the chevalier of the polar star, who, not wishing to be behind the others in grace, undertook to execute a hopping movement in the opposite direction, to the immense amusement of the company. But, sad to tell, the laughing and singing became so noisy as to attract attention in the grand saloon.
The orchestra had come to a pause in the music, but the young people did not notice it, and kept on singing and dancing around Stangstadius, who compared himself to Saturn in the middle of his ring.
Countess Elfride hastened to the spot, and, beholding the sudden cure of her niece, fell into a rage, which this time she could not restrain.
“My dear Margaret,” she said, shortly, in a sharp tone, “you are exceedingly imprudent. You forget your sprain; it is extremely dangerous to go on in such a way. I have just seen the baron’s physician, and he prescribes entire quiet to-night. Have the goodness to retire at once with your governess. She will assist you to go to bed, and put on some compresses. Believe me, you had best do so.”
She added in a low tone—
“Obey me!”
Margaret, who had been rosy with delight, turned quite pale, and, whether from anger or mortification, could not restrain two great tears which glittered a moment on her long eye-lashes, and rolled down her cheeks. The Countess Elfride snatched her hand and carried her off, saying, in an under-tone:
“I think you have taken an oath to do nothing to-night but make a fool of yourself. Now you must pay for it. I excused you for not dancing with our entertainer, for he really believes you were in pain; but after that, to dance with another person is to offer the baron an unheard-of, deliberate insult, and I will not allow you to keep up such conduct until he has perceived it.”
Cristiano followed along behind Margaret, trying to think of some means of disarming or diverting the wrath of her aunt, if he should perceive any favorable moment for addressing her, when he saw the baron approaching, and paused, leaning against the pedestal of a statue, to see what would take place among the three.