“And dance with you again?”
“With pleasure, monsieur, if it suit your convenience. But is there no other who claims you as a partner?—no other in this assemblage you would prefer?”
“Not one, I assure you. You are the only one present with whom I care to dance.”
As I said this, I thought I perceived a slight movement, that indicated some emotion.
“It was a gallant speech, and the modiste is pleased with the compliment,” thought I.
Her reply:—
“It flatters me, sir, that you prefer my company to that of the many splendid beauties who are in this saloon; though it may gratify me still more if you knew who I am.”
The last clause was uttered with an emphasis, and followed by a sigh!
“Poor girl!” thought I, “she fancies that I mistake her for some grand dame—that if I knew her real position her humble avocation, I should not longer care to dance with her. In that she is mistaken. I make no distinction between a milliner and a marchioness, especially in a ball-room. There, grace and beauty alone guide to preference.”
After giving way to some such reflections, I replied—