"Something between a malady and an affectation," remarked Sempaly.
"Just so; in short, to be blasé is the heartsickness of a fop."
Sempaly glanced at her keenly. "Your definition is admirable," he said, "I will make a note of it; but the cap does not fit me. I am not blasé, I am not indifferent to anything. Shams, hypocrisy, and meretriciousness irritate me, but when I meet with anything really good or lovely or genuine I can recognize it and admire it--more perhaps than most men."
Meanwhile the winner of the musical prize from the Villa Medici had sat down to the piano and plunged straightway out of a maundering improvisation into a waltz by Strauss. The countess had no objection if they liked to dance, and several couples were soon spinning under the flaring candles.
Sempaly rose: "May I have the honor?" he said to Zinka, and they went together into the dancing-room.
Zinka had the pretty peculiarity of turning pale rather than red as she danced; her movements were not sprightly, but gliding and dreamy; in fact she waltzed with uncommon grace. Sempaly had long since lost the subaltern's delight in a dance; he only asked ladies who had some special interest or charm for him, and every one knew it.
"Hm!" said Siegburg, shaking his head as he went up to General von Klinger who was watching the graceful couple from a recess, "my little game has come to nothing it seems to me."
"Have you retired then?" asked the general.
"By no means--quite the contrary; but my chances are small enough at present I fancy; what do you say?" He looked straight into the old man's eyes; he understood and said nothing.
"She dances beautifully, I never saw a girl dance better. How well she holds her head," he murmured. Suddenly a flash of amusement lighted up his eyes. "Look at Fritzi's face!" he exclaimed: "What a horrified expression! a perfect Niobe."