There was one in particular who attracted my attention—not mine alone, but everybody's. He was a young captain—his strikingly handsome face, and tall, graceful figure became the braided attila so well, it seemed to have been moulded on him.
And then his dancing! with what animation he went through the mazur and csardas; one could have rushed through the crowd to embrace him—I do not talk of myself; and, what was more than dancing—more than compliments, a je ne sais quoi in the large, dark, dreamy eyes; you cannot imagine that, it is not to be described—it bewildered, inspired, overpowered, and enchanted at the same moment. In less than an hour, every girl in the room was in love with him. I do not except myself. If they are as irresistible on the field of battle, I do not know what could withstand them. Imagine my feelings, when all at once he stepped up to me and requested the honour of the next quadrille!
Unfortunately, I was engaged. What would I not have given at that moment, had a courier entered to call away my dancer.
"Perhaps the next one?" said the captain, seating himself beside me.
I do not know what I said, or whether I replied at all; I only know I felt as I do when flying in a dream.
"But you will forget, perhaps, that you promised me?" he continued.
Had I not suddenly recollected myself, I should probably have told him that sooner could I forget my existence; however, I only replied, in a very indifferent tone, that I should not forget.
"But you do not know me!"
A country simpleton would have answered in my place, "Among a hundred—among thousands! at the first glance!"
Not I! As if I were doing the simplest thing in the world, I took a single rosebud from my breast and gave it to him. "I shall know you by this," I said, without betraying the slightest agitation.