A horror of great
dullness had fallen upon me, and I went out to restore the tone of my
depressed spirits by a libation, wherein I devoted, solemnly, my late
partner to the infernal gods. When I returned they were playing "The
Olga," and Flora was whirling round on Guy Livingstone's arm.
Among her many perilous fascinations, have I ever mentioned her
wonderful waltzing? She was as untiring as an Alme; and when once fairly
launched with a steerer who could do her justice, had a sway with
her--to use an Americanism--like that of a clipper three points off the
wind.
As I watched her, almost reclining in her partner's powerful grasp, her
lips moving incessantly, though audibly only to him, as her head leaned
against his shoulder, I thought of the old Rhineland tradition of the
Wilis; then the daughter of Herodias came into my mind; and then that
scarcely less murderous _danseuse_, at whose many-twinkling feet they
say the second Napoleon cast his frail life down.
If, in his assault on St. Anthony, the Evil One mingled no Terpsichorean
temptation, be sure it was because the ancient man had no ear for music,
I do not think that weapon was forgotten when Don Roderick, who had once
been a courtly king, did battle through a long winter's night with the
phantasm of fair, sinful La Cava.
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