curtailed. There was a decided fancy for the polka and a species of
mazurka, which I remembered having learned from a dancing-master in the
dawn of life, under some strange and forgotten name. Spaniards dance
divinely--nothing less. They waltz as few other men do, a very poetry of
motion, an abandonment of enjoyment, as if their soul were in it,
especially if the music be somewhat languid. This is especially the case
with the artillery officers, who are great favourites in society, and
belong exclusively to the upper ranks.

I have described this _tertulia_ at length because it was a typical one
of many. The cotillon was a great favourite, and generally closed the
evening. I always had an idea that one cause of its popularity was the
extended opportunities it gave for a couple who found each other's
company pleasant to enjoy it without much interference. It rather made
up for the loss of the staircase and the window-seats, or balconies,
dear to English dancers. The rooms are generally kept in a stifling
state of heat, a thick curtain always hanging over the door, and never
an open window or any kind of ventilation; this, however, does not
inconvenience the Spaniard in the least. It is usual to smoke during the
intervals of the dances--cigarettes as a rule; but I have often known a
man to lay his cigar on the edge of a table, and give it a whiff between
the rounds of a _valse_ to keep it going.

This, however, is the Spanish _tertulia_. You are "offered the house"
once and for always, and told the evenings on which your hostess
"receives," generally once, sometimes many more times in the week; then
you drop in, without further invitation, whenever you feel inclined;
after the opera, or on the days when there is no opera, or on your way
from the theatre, or at any hour. This sort of visiting puts an end to
what we, by courtesy, call "morning calls." There is always conversation