y seemed likely to occur in which she could make
use of her poem with effect. In the mean time she felt drawn as by a
secret influence (like the planet to the sun) ever nearer and nearer to
the queen of the saloon. The Aftonstjernas were now standing, beaming
around her, bending their white and pearl-ornamented necks to listen to
her jesting observations, and between whiles replying with smiles to the
politeness and solicitations of elegant gentlemen. It looked magnificent
and beautiful, and Petrea sighed from the ardent longing to ascend to
the _haute volee_.

At this moment Jacobi, quite warm, came hastening towards her to engage
her for the following quadrille.

Petrea joyfully thanked him; but suddenly reddening to the resemblance
of a peony with her mania of participation, she added, "Might I accept
your invitation for another person? Do me the great pleasure to ask that
young girl that sits there in the window at our left."

"But why?" asked Jacobi; "why will not you?"

"I earnestly beseech you to do it!" said Petrea. "It would give me
greater pleasure to see her dancing than if I danced myself."

Jacobi made some friendly objections, but did in the end as she
requested.

It was a great pleasure to Petrea to perceive the influence of this
engagement on her young friend. But Fate and the Candidate seemed
determined to make Petrea dance this quadrille; and a young officer
presented himself before her in splendid uniform, with dark eyes, dark
hair, large dark moustache, martial size, and very martial mien. Petrea
had no occasion, and no disposition either, to return anything but a
"yes" to this son of Mars. In fact, she never expected to receive a more
honourable invitation; and a few minutes later she found herself
standing close beside the chair of the Countess Solenstrale, dancing in
the same quadrille with the Aftonstjernas, and _vis-a-vis_ with the
Candidate. Petrea felt herself highly exalted, and would have been
perfectly prosperous had it not been for her restless demon, which
incessantly spurred her with the desire of coming in closer contact with
the beautiful, magnificent lady to whom she stood so near. To tread upon
her foot or her dress, might, it is true, have furnished an easy
occasion for many fine and reverential excuses; but, at the same time,
this would be neither polite nor agreeable. To fall in some kind of way
before her feet, and then, when graciously raised by the Countess, to
thank her