him, he would soon
take him in hand. He called himself master of the ceremonies, and his
duty was obviously to provide for the entertainment of the guests. Why,
he was thinking of nobody but himself--the perjurer, the liar! the vain
little Pole!

Mr. Zientek danced much better than the Prussian tax-collector, but
even he found no favour in Mrs. Tiralla's eyes. She finished the dance
with him; but just as he, with laboured breath and beating pulse, was
about to commence an intimate, low-toned conversation with her, she
nodded an absent-minded "Thanks," without listening to what he was
saying, and was immediately carried off by Mr. Rozycki, the butcher.

Rozycki was a capital dancer, in spite of his stoutness. He had dragged
on a pair of white kid gloves, and was enjoying himself so much that
the perspiration was streaming down his face and falling in big drops
on to his partner's shoulder. But that was quite immaterial to Mrs.
Tiralla at the present moment, and she did not mind either if it were
butcher or baker or post office clerk with whom she was dancing, as
long as she could dance. But not with Mr. Tiralla, she would not have
liked to dance with him. As their eyes met, and he raised his glass and
gave her a pleasant nod, she frowned gloomily and took no notice of
him. She looked very worn at that moment; all her youthfulness seemed
to have disappeared.

But that was only for a moment, and her face became quite smooth again
as she whirled round the room with her skilful partner, against whose
body she was constantly knocking. He remained in the middle [Pg 96] of
the room with her, just under the chandelier, so that everybody could
see him and her. He felt as though he were the king of the ball. He
would soon stop his wife's tongue if she should venture later on to
reproach him for having danced so long with Sophia Tiralla. He had now
danced three times round the room with her without stopping, he didn't
seem to be able to tire her out. However, when he felt that he could
not dance any longer, he drew a deep breath, gave an exultant cheer,
and lifted his charming partner right up into the air.

Deafening cheers resounded through the ballroom. The men were like mad.
They pushed and buffeted and pressed round the snow-white little lamb
under the chandelier like rams that had been let loose.

Mrs. Tiralla did not utter a sound as her strong partner raised her
from the ground. Her lips were scarlet, her little nostr