ans were
carelessly playing the same tune for about the thirteenth time in
succession, when the young lady whom I had danced with before, and who
was just about to join in another mazurka, caught sight of me, and, with
a kindly smile, led me to Sonetchka And one of the innumerable Kornakoff
princesses, at the same time asking me, "Rose or Hortie?"

"Ah, so it's YOU!" said Grandmamma as she turned round in her armchair.
"Go and dance, then, my boy."

Although I would fain have taken refuge behind the armchair rather than
leave its shelter, I could not refuse; so I got up, said, "Rose," and
looked at Sonetchka. Before I had time to realise it, however, a hand in
a white glove laid itself on mine, and the Kornakoff girl stepped forth
with a pleased smile and evidently no suspicion that I was ignorant of
the steps of the dance. I only knew that the pas de Basques (the only
figure of it which I had been taught) would be out of place. However,
the strains of the mazurka falling upon my ears, and imparting their
usual impulse to my acoustic nerves (which, in their turn, imparted
their usual impulse to my feet), I involuntarily, and to the amazement
of the spectators, began executing on tiptoe the sole (and fatal) pas
which I had been taught.

So long as we went straight ahead I kept fairly right, but when it came
to turning I saw that I must make preparations to arrest my course.
Accordingly, to avoid any appearance of awkwardness, I stopped short,
with the intention of imitating the "wheel about" which I had seen the
young man perform so neatly.

Unfortunately, just as I divided my feet and prepared to make a spring,
the Princess Kornakoff looked sharply round at my legs with such an
expression of stupefied amazement and curiosity that the glance undid
me. Instead of continuing to dance, I remained moving my legs up and
down on the same spot, in a sort of extraordinary fashion which bore
no relation whatever either to form or rhythm. At last I stopped
altogether. Every-one was looking at me--some with curiosity, some with
astonishment, some with disdain, and some with compassion, Grandmamma
alone seemed unmoved.

"You should not dance if you don't know the step," said Papa's angry
voice in my ear as, pushing me gently aside, he took my partner's hand,
completed the figures with her to the admiration of every one, and
finally led her back to, her place. The mazurka was at an end.

Ah me! What had I done to be punished s