Young, inexperienced, and susceptible, having but lately left my native land, where no such exhibition would have been tolerated for a moment, under penalty of the iron jougs and cutty-stool, I was borne, as it were, away from myself; my whole soul was riveted on the graceful motions of this dazzling dancer, who seemed to move amid a sea of light and harmony, nor did I rally until a roar of applause shook the rafters of the theatre.
"How she pirouettes!" said an old countess in the balcony near us; "oh, the light flounces—the pretty feet!"
"The devil! she is quite enchanting! beautiful—beautiful! such ankles!" said a major of Reitres.
"She dances like a fairy, a trold, an Elle woman!" said the burgomaster's wife.
"Or like the Lady Margarette of Skofgaard, who danced twelve knights to death!" added the burgomaster, Dubbelsteirn.
"Herr Baron," said I to Baron Karl of Klosterfiord, a captain of Danish pistoliers, when the blue curtain had fallen, and the lady retired, "how is this fair damsel named?"
"We only know her as the Señora Prudentia Bandolo."
"What a charming name for a woman so pretty!" said a cavalier in crimson and gold lace, who accompanied the baron, and whom I recognised to be a Sleswiger.
"Where does she live?" I asked carelessly.
"I would give my best horse to know," replied the cavalier, laughing.