"Very well, then," she said at last, "I will go."

It appeared that any civil person might go to the reunion who chose
to pay two florins and a half. There must have been some sort of
restriction, and the ladies of Burnamy's party went with a good deal of
amused curiosity to see what the distinctions were; but they saw none
unless it was the advantages which the military had. The long hall over
the bathrooms shaped itself into a space for the dancing at one end, and
all the rest of it was filled with tables, which at half past eight were
crowded with people, eating, drinking, and smoking. The military enjoyed
the monopoly of a table next the rail dividing the dancing from the
dining space. There the tight-laced Herr Hauptmanns and Herr Lieutenants
sat at their sausage and beer and cigars in the intervals of the
waltzes, and strengthened themselves for a foray among the gracious
Fraus and Frauleins on the benches lining three sides of the
dancing-space. From the gallery above many civilian spectators looked
down upon the gayety, and the dress-coats of a few citizens figured
among the uniforms.

As the evening wore on some ladies of greater fashion found their way
to the dancing-floor, and toward ten o'clock it became rather crowded. A
party of American girls showed their Paris dresses in the transatlantic
versions of the waltz. At first they danced with the young men who came
with them; but after a while they yielded to the custom of the place,
and danced with any of the officers who asked them.

"I know it's the custom," said Mrs. March to Miss Triscoe, who was at
her side in one of the waltzes she had decided to sit out, so as not to
be dancing all the time with Burnamy, "but I never can like it without
an introduction."

"No," said the girl, with the air of putting temptation decidedly away,
"I don't believe papa would, either."

A young officer came up, and drooped in mute supplication before her.
She glanced at Mrs. March, who turned her face away; and she excused
herself with the pretence that she had promised the dance, and by good
fortune, Burnamy, who had been unscrupulously waltzing with a lady he
did not know, came up at the moment. She rose and put her hand on his
arm, and they both bowed to the officer before they whirled away. The
officer looked after them with amiable admiration; then he turned
to Mrs. March with a light of banter in his friendly eyes, and was
unmistakably asking her to dance. She