him my bow in the presentation, "Vous, monsieur," said he--"vous qui
etes si jeune, devez aimer la danse." I blushed as red as my trousers,
and bowing, went away.

I stepped up to Dorothea. Heavens! how beautiful she looked! and how
archly she smiled as, with a thumping heart, I asked her hand for a
WALTZ! She took out her little mother-of-pearl dancing-book, she wrote
down my name with her pencil: we were engaged for the fourth waltz, and
till then I left her to other partners.

Who says that his first waltz is not a nervous moment? I vow I was
more excited than by any duel I ever fought. I would not dance any
contre-danse or galop. I repeatedly went to the buffet and got glasses
of punch (dear simple Germany! 'tis with rum-punch and egg-flip thy
children strengthen themselves for the dance!) I went into the ball-room
and looked--the couples bounded before me, the music clashed and rung
in my ears--all was fiery, feverish, indistinct. The gleaming white
columns, the polished oaken floors in which the innumerable tapers were
reflected--all together swam before my eyes, and I was in a pitch of
madness almost when the fourth waltz at length came. "WILL YOU DANCE
WITH YOUR SWORD ON?" said the sweetest voice in the world. I blushed,
and stammered, and trembled, as I laid down that weapon and my cap, and
hark! the music began!

Oh, how my hand trembled as I placed it round the waist of Dorothea!
With my left hand I took her right--did she squeeze it? I think she
did--to this day I think she did. Away we went! we tripped over the
polished oak floor like two young fairies. "Courage, monsieur," said
she, with her sweet smile. Then it was "Tres bien, monsieur." Then I
heard the voices humming and buzzing about. "Il danse bien, l'Anglais."