Voces Populi — At a Dance
At a Dance.
THE HOSTESS _is receiving her Guests at the head of the staircase_; _a_ CONSCIENTIOUSLY LITERAL MAN _presents himself_.
HOSTESS (_with a gracious smile, and her eyes directed to the people immediately behind him_).
_So_ glad you were able to come--how do you _do_?
THE CONSCIENTIOUSLY LITERAL MAN.
Well, if you had asked me that question this afternoon, I should have said I was in for a severe attack of malarial fever--I had all the symptoms--but, about seven o'clock this evening, they suddenly passed off, and-- [_Perceives, to his surprise, that his Hostess's attention is wandering, and decides to tell her the rest later in the evening.
_ MR.
CLUMPSOLE.
How do you do, Miss Thistledown?
Can you give me a dance?
MISS THISTLEDOWN (_who has danced with him before_--once).
With pleasure--let me see, the third extra after supper?
Don't forget.
MISS BRUSKLEIGH (_to Major Erser_).
Afraid I can't give you anything just now--but if you see me standing about later on, you can come and ask me again, you know.
MR.
BOLDOVER (_glancing eagerly round the room as he enters, and soliloquising mentally_).
She ought to be here by this time, if she's coming--can't see her though--she's certainly not dancing.
There's her sister over there with the mother.
She _hasn't_ come, or she'd be with them.
Poor-looking lot of girls here to-night--don't think much of this music--get away as soon as I can, no _go_ about the thing!...
Hooray!
There she is, after all!
Jolly waltz this is they're playing!
How pretty she's looking--how pretty _all_ the girls are looking!
If I can only get her to give me one dance, and sit out most of it somewhere!
I feel as if I could talk to her to-night.
By Jove, I'll try it!
[_Watches his opportunity, and is cautiously making his way towards his divinity, when he is intercepted.
_ MRS.
GRAPPLETON.
Mr. Boldover, I do believe you were going to _cut_ me!
(_MR.
B.
protests and apologises.
_) Well, _I_ forgive you.
I've been wanting to have another talk with you for ever so long.
I've been thinking so _much_ of what you said that evening about Browning's relation to Science and the Supernatural.
Suppose you take me down stairs for an ice or something, and we can have it out comfortably together.
[_Dismay of Mr. B.
_, _who has entirely forgotten any theories he may have advanced on the subject, but has no option but to comply_; _as he leaves the room with_ MRS. GRAPPLETON _on his arm, he has a torturing glimpse of_ MISS ROUNDARM, _apparently absorbed in her partner's conversation_.
MR.
SENIOR ROPPE (_as he waltzes_).
Oh, you needn't feel convicted of extraordinary ignorance, I assure you, Miss Featherhead.
You would be surprised if you knew how many really clever persons have found that simple little problem of nought divided by one too much for them.
Would you have supposed, by the way, that there is a reservoir in Pennsylvania containing a sufficient number of gallons to supply all London for eighteen months?
You don't quite realize it, I see.
"How many gallons is that?"
Well, let me calculate roughly--taking the population of London at four millions, and the average daily consumption for each individual at--no, I can't work it out with sufficient accuracy while I am dancing;
suppose we sit down, and I'll do it for you on my shirt-cuff--oh, very well; then I'll work it out when I get home, and send you the result to-morrow, if you will allow me.
MR.
CULDERSACK (_who has provided himself beforehand with a set of topics for conversation--to his partner, as they halt for a moment_).
Er--(_consults some hieroglyphics on his cuff stealthily_)--have you read Stanley's book yet?
MISS TABULA RAISER.
No, I haven't. Is it interesting?
MR.
CULDERSACK.
I can't say.
I've not seen it myself.
Shall we--er--?
[_They take another turn.
_ [Illustration: "ER--" (CONSULTS SOME HIEROGLYPHICS ON HIS CUFF STEALTHILY).
] MR.
C.
I suppose you have--er--been to the (_hesitates between the Academy and the Military Exhibition--decides on latter topic as fresher_) Military Exhibition?
MISS T.
R.
No--not yet.
What do you think of it?
MR.
C.
Oh--_I_ haven't been either.
Er--do you care to--?
[_They take another turn.
_ MR.
C.
(_after third halt_).
Er--do you take any interest in politics?
MISS T.
R.
Not a bit.
MR.
C.
(_much relieved_).
No more do I. (_Considers that he has satisfied all mental requirements.
_) Er--let me take you down stairs for an ice.
[_They go.
_ MRS.
GRAPPLETON (_re-entering with_ MR. BOLDOVER, _after a discussion that has outlasted two ices and a plate of strawberries_).
Well, I thought you would have explained my difficulties better than _that_--oh, what a _delicious_ waltz!
Doesn't it set you longing to dance?
MR.
B.
(_who sees_ MISS ROUNDARM _in the distance, disengaged_).
Yes, I really think I must--.
[_Preparing to escape.
_ MRS.
GRAPPLETON.
I'm getting such an old thing, that really I oughtn't to--but well, just this _once_, as my husband isn't here.
[MR.
BOLDOVER _resigns himself to necessity once more_.
FIRST CHAPERON (_to second ditto_).
How sweet it is of your eldest girl to dance with that absurd Mr. Clumpsole!
It's really too _bad_ of him to make such an exhibition of her--one can't help smiling at them!
SECOND CH.
Oh, Ethel never can bear to hurt any one's feelings--so different from some girls!
By the way, I've not seen _your_ daughter dancing to-night--men who dance are so scarce nowadays--I suppose they think they have the right to be a little fastidious.
FIRST CH.
Bella has been out so much this week, that she doesn't care to dance except with a really first-rate partner.
She is not so easily pleased as your Ethel, I'm afraid.
SECOND CH.
Ethel is _young_, you see, and, when one is pressed so much to dance, one can hardly refuse, _can_ one?
When she has had as many seasons as BELLA, she will be less energetic, I dare say.
[MR.
BOLDOVER _has at last succeeded in approaching_ MISS ROUNDARM, _and even in inducing her to sit out a dance with him_; _but, having led her to a convenient alcove, he finds himself totally unable to give any adequate expression to the rapture he feels at being by her side_.
MR.
B.
(_determined to lead up to it somehow_).
I--I was rather thinking--(_he_ meant _to say_, "_devoutly hoping_," _but, to his own bitter disgust, it comes out like this_)--I should meet you here to-night.
MISS R.
Were you?
Why?
MR.
B.
(_with a sudden dread of going too far just yet_).
Oh (_carelessly_), you know how one _does_ wonder who will be at a place, and who won't. MISS R.
No, indeed, I don't--_how_ does one wonder?
MR.
B.
(_with a vague notion of implying a complimentary exception in her case_).
Oh, well, generally--(_with the fatal tendency of a shy man to a sweeping statement_)--one may be pretty sure of meeting just the people one least wants to see, you know.
MISS R.
And so you thought you would probably meet me.
I _see_.
MR.
B.
(_overwhelmed with confusion, and not in the least knowing what he says_).
No, no, I didn't think that--I hoped you mightn't--I mean, I was afraid you might-- [_Stops short, oppressed by the impossibility of explaining.
_ MISS R.
You are not very complimentary to-night, are you?
MR.
B.
I can't pay compliments--to _you_--I don't know how it is, but I never can talk to you as I can to other people!
MISS R.
Are you amusing when you are with other people?
MR.
B.
At all events I can find things to say to _them_.
_Enter_ ANOTHER MAN.
ANOTHER MAN (_to_ MISS R. ).
Our dance, I think?
MISS R.
(_who had intended to get out of it_).
I was wondering if you ever meant to come for it.
(_To_ MR. B.
, _as they rise_.
) Now I sha'n't feel I am depriving the other people!
(_Perceives the speechless agony in his expression, and relents.
_) Well, you can have the next after this if you care about it--only _do_ try to think of something in the meantime!
(_As she goes off.
_) You will--won't you?
MR.
B.
(_to himself_).
She's given me another chance!
If only I can rise to it.
Let me see--what shall I begin with?
_I_ know--_Supper!
_ She hasn't been down yet.
HIS HOSTESS.
Oh, Mr. Boldover, you're not dancing this--do be good and take some one down to supper--those poor Chaperons are dying for some food.
[Mr. B.
_takes down a Matron whose repast is protracted through three waltzes and a set of Lancers_--_he comes up to find_ MISS ROUNDARM _gone_, _and the Musicians putting up their instruments_.
COACHMAN AT DOOR (_to Linkman, as_ MR. B.
_goes down the steps_).
That's the _lot_, Jim!
[Mr. B.
_walks home, wishing the Park Gates were not shut, so as to render the Serpentine inaccessible_.
AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM.
