A BALL AT THRONDHJEM. 
377 
is not something approaching to the sound required, 
you must relinquish all hope of achieving it, as I did. 
Luckily, my business was to dance, and not to apostro¬ 
phise the lady; and accordingly, when the waltz struck 
up, I hastened to claim, in the dumbest show, the honour 
of her hand. Although my dancing qualifications have 
rather rusted during the last two or three years, I re¬ 
membered that the time was not so very far distant when 
even the fair Mad elle - E- had graciously pronounced 
me to be a very tolerable waltzer, “ for an Englishman,” 
and I led my partner to the circle already formed with 
the u air capable ” which the object of such praise is 
entitled to assume. There was a certain languid rhythm 
in the air they were playing which rather offended 
my ears, but I suspected nothing until, observing the 
few couples who had already descended into the arena, 
I became aware that they were twirling about with 
all the antiquated grace of u la raise a trois temps” 
Of course my partner would be no exception to the 
general rule! nobody had ever danced anything else 
at Throndhjem from the days of Odin downwards; and 
1 had never so much as attempted it. What was to 
be done ? I could not explain the state of the case 
