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THE FIREWORKS.—THE FORTUNE TELLER.—THE SILHOUETTE STUDIO
The contradance came to an end, and the men escorted their partners to their seats. I followed my little flowermaker with my eyes, and saw her take her seat beside a plainly dressed old woman, evidently her aunt. Her partner remained by her side; he was the Jules of the preceding evening. In due time, another girl came up with her partner and sat beside Caroline; this completed the party, which, as I remembered, was to consist of four persons.
I walked back and forth in the neighborhood of Mademoiselle Caroline and her friends for a long while; I passed before the group and stared at the pretty creature; but she paid no attention to me. I saw that I must make up my mind to invite her to dance, but I had difficulty in doing it; for I felt that I should look like a petty shop-clerk who was in the habit of going to Tivoli to dance on Sundays. While I was making these reflections, the orchestra played the prelude; that decided me, and I walked toward the young women. But just as I was on the point of delivering my invitation, the pretty flowermaker rose and gave her hand to a young man, who had got the start of me, and who led her out to dance. I had arrived too late; so much for listening to my absurd self-esteem! However, I swore that I would not be behindhand for the next contradance; and for fear of being defrauded again, I hastened to the quadrille in which Mademoiselle Caroline was performing, and then and there engaged her for the next one. She accepted, and I was overjoyed; I stood near her, mingling my words of praise with those of several other young men; and while her partner was executing the avant deux, I complimented her on her bunch of roses and apologized for my awkwardness of the previous evening. At that, she looked up at me and smiled, and took more notice of me; I had reason to believe that her scrutiny did not result to my disadvantage. From time to time, I ventured a word or two to the effect that I had come to Tivoli solely in the hope of meeting her; she did not reply, but I saw that she listened; if she were ever so little of a coquette, I felt sure of making my way! And she was, she must be; for all women are. The dance at an end, I impatiently awaited the following one, when I should be able to talk with Caroline, and it would be easy for me to find out how far I might hope. In the briefest interview I can generally tell what manner of person I have to do with, and I rarely make a mistake; not that I believe all that they say to me, but I divine how much hope they are willing to give me. Women, being more expansive than men, have a certain laisser aller which says a great deal to one who is accustomed to deal with them. When they have wit, a mere hint discloses it; when they have nothing but jargon, they murder you with it; when they have nothing to say, there is no possibility of mistake. Montaigne said: “Style makes the man;” I think that he might well have said also: “Conversation makes the woman;” but I beg his pardon for presuming to express my opinion in conjunction with his.
Mademoiselle Caroline was escorted to her seat. While waiting for the next contradance, which would furnish me with the means of judging her more accurately, I strolled through the thickets that surrounded the dancing enclosure. I preferred not to remain like a noodle beside the little flowermaker, nor to parade up and down in front of her. But the moment drew near when I might hope to squeeze her tiny fingers and press her hand tenderly in mine. Give me the dance for lovers! you can boldly reveal your secret sentiments, you can declare them without speaking a word. I am inclined to think that that is why the young women have so great a fondness for that exercise and enjoy themselves so heartily at balls. How many avowals have been made and reciprocated while forming a ladies’ chain or a trenise! and despite their active surveillance, their mammas are powerless to prevent that.
But the time passed; I strolled back toward my partner. Mon Dieu! what a noise! what an uproar! what confusion in the garden! The first bomb had just been fired, and everybody was running toward the great central square, dragging their chairs, or carrying them in their arms.
“The fireworks! the fireworks!” people shouted on all sides.
What a rush! In heaven’s name, had they never seen fireworks before in their lives? How they pushed and jostled and fought, to pass one another! What a hurly-burly! But what had become of Caroline? I hurried to the dancing enclosure—it was deserted; everybody had abandoned it for the fireworks. Where my pretty grisette had been sitting, I saw two men fighting for a chair, pulling it in opposite directions; each of them finally carried away half, which must have been exceedingly useful. I was not in luck with Mademoiselle Caroline; she disappeared at the moment that I was going to join her. However, I did not lose all hope; I assumed that she had gone to see the fireworks, and I determined to try to find her there.
I walked in the direction that the crowd had taken; but at the sight of that moving mass, one half of which concealed the other,—for some had climbed upon the chairs, while others clung to the frames,—I felt that it would be absurd to look for anyone there. So I resigned myself to wait until the display was over; perhaps the dancing would be renewed then, and I should see her again. Meanwhile, I walked around the outskirts of the crowd, and saw almost as much of the fireworks as those who stood on their chairs. I also observed several couples, who, instead of joining the crowd, went in the opposite direction and concealed themselves in the obscure shrubbery; they evidently had not come to Tivoli for the fireworks; but I am convinced, none the less, that they had been waiting impatiently for them to begin, and that the display would afford them as much pleasure as those who waited for it with their noses in the air.
There was a set piece representing Ixion crushed by the thunderbolts of Jupiter; and I heard a gentleman explaining it to his family, while he supported his wife and held up his little girl, who shrieked at every explosion.
“Who’s that tall man in a red cloak riding horseback on a bird?” inquired the child.