What object this may be
That doth perstringe mine eye;
A gallant lady goes
In rich and gaudy clothes,
But whither away God knows."
But let us charitably suppose that the sequel is only a continuation of the license of the waltz, and that she reaches her home with merely the smell of the fire through which she has passed upon her garments—let us suppose that the Ah si liceret! of Caracalla has not been answered by the yielding quic-quid libet licet of his mother-in-law—and what is the result? The flame that has been aroused must be allayed. If she is unmarried, then in God's name let us inquire no farther; but if she is a wife then is the dear indulgent husband at home privileged to meet a want inspired in the embrace of "the first dancer in the valley," and to enjoy some advantage, at least, from the peculiar position which he sustains toward the matronly dancer.
And now may we not take a peep at the fair danseuse as she comes into the breakfast-room at noon next day. Is this broken-down, used-up creature the radiant beauty of the night before? Can it be that that "healthful recreation," the Waltz, has painted those dark circles round her eyes and planted those wrinkles on her brow?
"Alas, the mother, that her bare,
If she could stand in presence there,
In that wan cheek and wasted air