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Lewis Rand by Mary Johnston
page 76 of 555 (13%)
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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