er. In the middle, linen was hung on lines to dry.
Anton could hardly suppose they meant to dance here; but the linen was
torn down by one servant in the twinkling of an eye, while another ran
to the stove, and was equally expeditious in blowing up the fire, and in
a very few moments six couples stood up for a quadrille. As there was a
lady wanting, a young count, with a black beard like velvet, and a
wondrously beautiful pair of blue eyes, bound his cambric handkerchief
round his arm, and with a graceful courtesy announced himself a lady. He
was immediately led out by another gentleman. Their dancing, in spite of
its fashionable character, betrayed at times the fire and impetuosity of
their race. Lenore threw herself into it heart and soul.

Meanwhile the baroness was conversing with great animation with her
host, and Frau von Tarow made it her occupation to amuse the baron.
Here, then, were all the social forms, the keen enjoyment of the
present, which Anton had so often admired, but now they only excited a
cold smile. It did not seem to him creditable that a German family
should be on terms of such intimacy with recent enemies--people who were
probably at this very time plotting against them and their country.
Accordingly, when the first dance was over, and Lenore, passing him,
asked why he did not dance with her, he replied, "I am every moment
expecting to see Bratzky's face appear in some corner of the room."

"We will not think of him at present," returned Lenore, turning away
offended.

Dance followed dance, the heads of the young people swam, their curls
hung down damp, and relaxed with their exertions. Another rush of
bearded domestics, and iced Champagne was brought in. The dancers tossed
it off standing, and immediately a cry rose on all sides for a Polish
mazurka--the national dance. Now, then, the dresses fluttered wide and
high; the dancers positively flew along; the ladies were tossed like
balls from one partner's arm to another; and Lenore, alas! in the midst
of it all.

Anton stood near the distinguished Pole, carrying on a spiritless
conversation, and coldly listened to the praises the former liberally
bestowed on the German dancer. The rapid movements and strong excitement
that were natural to the Polish girls made Lenore wild, and, Anton
regretted to see, unfeminine; and his glance wandered away from her to
the rough walls, the dusty stove, in which an immense fagot was burning,
and the ceiling,