‘You play schottische?’ said she.
‘Waal, no; but can try, you know.’
So they commenced. The Maori pranced, and the poor young man acted like a brake.
‘You no play schottische?’ she again inquired; and while he was looking at her, searching for a reply, she gave him a push, and rushed off to her seat, saying:
‘Horrible! horrible!’
He did not solicit the hand of any other princess. The Ohinemutu whites, with their dark-skinned friends, danced grandly. All the quadrilles and country-dances were of an old type.
The gentlemen would cavotte and shuffle about by themselves in the centre, then rush in and whirl their partners with vigour.
A schottische was superb; everybody danced all over the room, throwing up their arms, cutting little capers, and yelping in true Highland fashion.
Mac was enraged. He looked upon all this as an insult to his country. Why should white people lower themselves by hob-nobbing with, and even marrying, what he called ‘female cannibals?’ If he were ruler, he would begin by making them pay taxes, like other people; and if they would not pay, he would have the country cleared.
With all his raillery I observed that he did not seem so hard on the flounces and French boots.