He presented me to the Grand Duchess.
"It was partly for your sake, Madame, that I brought Monsieur Vignerte here. But you seem in no hurry to use the gifts we offer."
She replied casually:
"I? My wish is nothing better than to know Monsieur Vignerte. I am told he is charming. You must forgive me, monsieur, if I say 'I am told.' I have hitherto had no chance of judging for myself. You work very hard, I understand."
The same words as Melusine had used. Oh, the shame of it! Was I always to wear the pedant's gown? Was I always to be the man who "worked very hard," I, whose nights were passed in dreams of a voluptuousness that none suspected?
I was going to reply. I think I was going to tell that haughty creature the plain truth. But she rose.
"Excuse me! I must dance—at any rate, once! Herr von Hagen," she called.
The little red Hussar was there. He came forward, humble but radiant. I knew a day would come when I should box his ears!
A space had been cleared on the floor. The Grand Duchess Aurora's dance seemed to be a maëlstrom from which the dancers turned aside lest they be drawn in. They waltzed at first the slow German waltz in three time. Then the measure quickened, changing to two beats in the bar. It was no longer even the boston, but a wild, harmonious whirling.
A murmur of admiration went up. The Grand Duke Frederick-Augustus looked on with a smile which was almost a smile of triumph.