emptied his glass of brandy at one gulp, removed his coat,
and joined the colonel in his attack upon the young Frenchman.

"A distinguished Irish naturalist, Mr. James Stephens," he said, "has
noticed that love of dancing varies according to innocence of
heart. Thus children, lambs and dogs like dancing. Policemen, lawyers
and fish dance very little because they are hard-hearted. Worms and
Members of Parliament, who, besides their remarkable all-round
culture, have many points in common, dance but rarely owing to the
thickness of the atmosphere in which they live. Frogs and high hills,
if we are to believe the Bible----"

"Doctor," interrupted the general, "I put you in charge of the
gramophone; top speed, please."

The orderlies pushed the table into a corner, and the aide-de-camp,
holding his general in a close embrace, piloted him respectfully but
rhythmically round the room.

"One, two ... one, two. It's a simple walk, sir, but a sort of glide.
Your feet mustn't leave the ground."

"Why not?" asked the general.

"It's the rule. Now twinkle."

"Twinkle? What's that?" asked the general.

"It's a sort of hesitation, sir; you put out your left foot, then you
bring it sharply back against the right, and start again with the
right foot. Left, back again, and quickly right. Splendid, sir."

The general, who was a man of precision, asked how many steps he was
to count before twinkling again. The rosy-cheeked one explained that
it didn't matter, you could change steps whenever you liked.

"But look here," said General Bramble, "how is my partner to know
when I'm going to twinkle?"

"Oh," said the aide-de-camp, "you must hold her near enough for her
to feel the slightest movement of your body."

"Humph!" grunted the general. And after a moment's thought he added,
"Couldn't you get up some mixed dances here?"

From the depths of the arm-chair came Aurelle's joyful approval.

"I've never been able to make out," he said, "what pleasure you men
can find in dancing together. Dancing is a sentimental pantomime, a
kind of language of the body which allows it to express an
understanding which the soul dare not confess. What was dancing for
primitive man? Nothing but a barbaric form of love."

"What a really French idea!" exclaimed Colonel Parker. "I should say
rather that love is a barbaric form of dancing. Love is animal;
dancing is human. It's more than an art; it's a sport."

"Quite right," said Aurelle. "Sinc