would be all up. But if they can't do anything else, women can dance:
let us give them that praise at least.

In London, then, for a considerable time, I used to get up at eight
o'clock in the morning, and pass an hour alone with Mr. Wilkinson, of
the Theatres Royal, in Golden Square;--an hour alone. It was "one, two,
three; one, two, three--now jump--right foot more out, Mr. Smith; and if
you COULD try and look a little more cheerful; your partner, sir, would
like you hall the better." Wilkinson called me Smith, for the fact is,
I did not tell him my real name, nor (thank heaven!) does he know it to
this day.

I never breathed a word of my doings to any soul among my friends; once
a pack of them met me in the strange neighborhood, when, I am ashamed to
say, I muttered something about a "little French milliner," and walked
off, looking as knowing as I could.

In Paris, two Cambridge-men and myself, who happened to be staying at
a boarding-house together, agreed to go to Coulon, a little creature of
four feet high with a pigtail. His room was hung round with glasses. He
made us take off our coats, and dance each before a mirror. Once he was
standing before us playing on his kit the sight of the little master
and the pupil was so supremely ridiculous, that I burst into a yell of
laughter, which so offended the old man that he walked away abruptly,
and begged me not to repeat my visits. Nor did I. I was just getting
into waltzing then, but determined to drop waltzing, and content myself
with quadrilling for the rest of my days.

This was all very well in France and England; but in Germany what was
I to do? What did Hercules do when Omphale captivated him? What did