The Jeliagins announced that Natalie danced the mazurka like a true woman of Warsaw. They left her no peace.
"Oh, I will put on no more airs," said she, "if one of the ladies will take a seat at the piano, so----"
To go to the piano, even were it only to play dance-music, in Lensky's presence! The ladies swooned at the mere thought.
"Very well, then you must give up the mazurka," said Natalie, decidedly.
"Ask Boris Nikolaivitch," whispered one of the St. Petersburg women. "If he is the first violinist of his time, he is also an excellent pianist."
"No, no," said Natalie, firmly, and then her great brilliant eyes met Lensky's.
Although at that time he maintained his artistic dignity with quite childish exaggeration, he smiled very good-naturedly and said, "I see very well that you place no confidence in me; you think I cannot catch your mazurka music."
"No, no, no!" said Natalie. "You shall not degrade your art."
"And do you really think it would be degrading to improvise a musical background for your performance? I should so like to see you dance." And he stood up and went to the piano.
Such pretty little phrases were formerly not his style. He had, as Natalie had often laughingly told him, no talent for fioriture in conversation.