Lewis Rand by Mary Johnston
page 76 of 555 (13%)
page 76 of 555 (13%)
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Open-minded, perhaps,--though I don't know that that is calling it
rightly. The airs the angels sing, and the thundering march of the damned through hell--why should I not listen to them both? I don't believe in hell, nor much in angels, save one, but I like the argument. Mr. Pincornet, I don't want to sleep. Suppose--suppose you teach me a minuet?" He laughed as he spoke, but he spoke in earnest. "Knowledge! I want all kinds of knowledge. I know law, and I know what to do with a jury, and I know tobacco--worse luck!--but I don't know the little things, the little gracious things that--that make a man liked. If I were a Federalist, and if I didn't know so much about tobacco, I would go, Mr. Pincornet, to your dancing class at Fontenoy!" He laughed again. "I can't do that, can I? The Churchills would all draw their swords. Come! I have little time and few chances to acquire that which I have longed for always,--the grace of life. Teach me how to enter a drawing-room; how to--how to dance with a lady!" His tone, imperious when he demanded the Marseillaise, was now genial, softened to a mellow persuasiveness. Mr. Pincornet shrugged his shoulders. He had been offended, but he was not unmagnanimous, and he had a high sense of the importance of his art. He had seen in France what came of uncultivated law-givers. If a man wanted knowledge, far be it from Achille de Pincornet to withhold his handful! "You cannot learn in a night," he said, "but I will show you the steps." "I can manage a country dance, a reel or Congo," said Rand simply. "I want to know politer things." They left the terrace, went into the drawing-room, and lit the candles. |
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