Within a week, this wished-for opportunity came.
Some mutual friends, to whom, indeed, Min had been the original means of
my introduction--they living without the orbit of the Saint Canon
circle--asked me to a large evening party that they gave late in the
season.
There, I met my darling, as I hoped--unaccompanied by her mother, which
I had _not_ imagined would happen; consequently, my chances for speaking
to Min would be all the more favourable.
There was so general a crush of people; that, although the rooms were
large and there were many nice little retreats for tete-a-tete
conversation, in balconies that were covered in like marquees and snug
conservatories, besides the stair landings--those last "refuges for the
destitute" who might desire retirement--I had to put off my purpose
until evening wore on to such a late hour, that I thought I would not be
able to speak to my darling at all!
After midnight, however, my opportunity came.
First getting rid of a horrible person, who would persist in following
Min about under the false pretence that his name was on her card for
several of the after-supper dances--an assertion _I_ knew to be
ridiculously unfounded; for, I had taken care to place my own name down
for as many as Min would give me, and, all the latter ones I had
appropriated also without asking her permission, thinking that when that
happy time arrived, she would not be very hard on me for my presumption;
nor was she.
Extinguishing the interloper--some people have such blindness of mental
vision, that they never can see when they are not wanted!--I managed at
length to open proceedings.
It was while in a quadrille that I began referring to the agonised state
of my mind, and explained the mental suffering I then was experiencing.
Min listened attentively, as far as she heard, a warm flush on her dear
face and a light sparkling in the deep grey eyes; but, I would defy any
lover to plead his cause with due effect in that mazy old cotillon
dance, which a love of French nomenclature in the early part of the
century, taught us to style "quadrille."
How can you inform the object of your passion that you adore her, with
any becoming effusion of sentiment, when you are chassez-ing and
balancez-ing like a human teetotum? How, breathe the words of love;
when, ere you have completed your avowal, you have to make a fool of
yourself in the "Cavalier seul," the cynosure of six different pairs of
eyes besides those of the girl of your heart? How, tone your voice,
sweetly attuned though it may be to Venusian accents, when, one moment,
it may be inaudible to her whom you address, through the rampagious
gallopading and ladies-chaining of excited quadrillers; and, the next,
be so raised in pitch, from the sudden hush that falls on band and
dancers alike, between the figures, that your opposite vis-a-vis, and
the neighbouring side couples, can hear every syllable of your frantic
declaration--much to their amusement and your discomfiture?
You cannot do it, I say.
No, not if you were a Talleyrand in love matters; and, so completely
versed in the pathology of the "fitful fever," as to be able to diagnose
it at a glance; besides nursing the patient through all the several
stages of the disease--watching every symptom, anticipating each change,
bringing the "case," finally, to a favourable issue!
No, sir, or madam, or mademoiselle, as the case may be; you cannot do
it--not in a quadrille, at all events, or I will;--but, no, I won't
bet:--it is wrong to do so, Min told me!
Presently, on the music stopping, I led her to a seat in a quiet corner.
"Here"--thought I--"I shall be able to have you to myself without fear
of interruption!"
I commenced my tale again; but, Min, evidently, did not wish to come to
any decision now. She wanted to let matters remain as they were.
I could see this readily, by the way in which she tried to put me off,
changing the conversation whenever I got on to the forbidden ground, and
suggesting various irrelevant queries on my endeavouring again to chain
her wilfully-erratic attention down to the one topic that I only thought
worthy of interest.
The feminine mind, I believe, delights in uncertainty.
Girls are not half so anxious to have their lovers "declare themselves,"
as some ill-natured people would have us think. They much prefer
holding on in delightful doubt--that pleasant "he-would-and-she-
wouldn't" pastime that precedes a regular engagement or undoubted
dismissal--just as a playful mouser sports with its victim, long after
the trembling little beast has lost its small portion of life;
pretending that it is yet alive and essaying to escape, when pussy knows
right well that poor mousey's fate is sealed, as far as any further
struggles on its part are concerned.
A man, on the contrary, abhors suspense.
It is not business-like, you know.
He much desiderates a plain answer to a plain exposition of fact or
fancy--even when it takes the form of that excruciating little
monosyllable "no."
Those diminutive arts and petty trickeries of feigned resistance, with
which our "angels without wings" strive to delay the surrender of the
maiden-citadels of their hearts, are but vexatious obstacles to his
legitimate triumph. These, the veteran wooer attempts to carry by storm
at once, seeing through their utter transparency:--to the unpractised
Damon, however, they assume the proportions of an organised defence.
Look at my case, for instance:--I had hardly managed to manoeuvre Min
into my selected corner, and to say two words on the subject that
occupied all my thoughts; when, she, who had previously condoled with me
on the "horrid crowd" that prevented our having "a nice chat" together,
as "we used to have last year," and joined in abusing "that wretched
quadrille," which had interfered so sadly with our talking, now tried to
baulk my purpose of an explanation by every means in her power.
Ladies having generally ample resources to suit such ends, it was almost
useless for me to combat her obvious resolve.
The moment I sat down beside her, what does she do, but, ask me to get
her an ice--it was "_so_ hot!"
Of course, I started off to procure it, our conversation being stopped
meanwhile; but then, when I had scrambled through the crowd in the
doorway, making ninepins of all the male wallflowers; had rudely jostled
the peripatetics on the staircase; and, literally, fought my way into
the supper-room and back to her again with the desired dainty--what do
you think was my reward?
I assure you, there was the identical, horrible person, with sandy hair
and sallow, elongated features--whom I had before routed in the matter
of Min's dancing with him,--seated in my chair, chattering away at a
fine rate to my darling; and, she?--
Was listening to his sallies with apparent contentment.
It was, enough to have caused a Puritan to swear!
She saw that I was annoyed; but, she thanked me so prettily for her ice,
that my anger towards her was instantly appeased:--not so, however,
toward the interloper! I gnawed, in impotent fury, the attenuated ends
of the small fragment of a moustache which nature had allotted to me,
and talked at him and over him, so pointedly, that he had to beat a
retreat and claim some other partner for the ensuing waltz.
We were again left alone; but, Min, still, wouldn't listen to me a
moment!
"Oh, Frank!" she said. "This is _our_ dance, I think, is it not? We
have sat out _such_ a time! Do let us begin."