The Devil's Pool and Other Stories

Mothers in Fashionable Society (1845)

c 75 Mothers in Fashionable Society (1845) “Who is that fat woman dancing?” I asked the Parisian who was piloting me through the ballroom for the first time. “That’s my aunt,” he said, “a very young, very frolicsome, and, as you can see from her diamonds, very rich person.” Very rich, very frolicsome, maybe, I thought; but very young, that can’t be right. I kept looking at her, dumbfounded; and, as I was unable to detect any trace of youth about her, I ventured to ask the sum total of her years. “That’s a silly question,” replied Arthur, laughing at my faux pas. “My dear sir, I’m my aunt’s heir; I’m certainly not going to tell her age.” Seeing that I didn’t understand, he added, “I have no desire to be disinherited. But allow me to introduce you to my mother. She used to be very close to yours; she’ll be delighted to meet you.” I followed Arthur, and, next to a veritable shrub of camellias , we found two young ladies sitting in the midst of a cloud of more or less frivolous male butterflies. Arthur introduced me to the younger—at least, to the one who at first appeared to be so; she was the better dressed, the better groomed, the more engaging, and the more courted of the two. I was still dazed by the lights and the music, and by the fact that I was making my debut in Parisian society and was afraid of seeming gauche and provincial—and indeed I was as gauche as anyone can possibly be, because I didn’t hear the introductory compliments that Arthur recited while he steered me toward this dazzling beauty, and it took me a good five minutes to recover from the teasing and provocative glance her lovely dark eyes 76 The Devil’s Pool and Other Stories shot at me. She spoke to me, she questioned me; I answered wildly and randomly, not being able to overcome my awkwardness . Eventually I managed to grasp that she was asking me whether I danced; and as I was beginning to offer my apologies , “He dances just as well as anyone else,” Arthur declared; “he hasn’t yet had the courage to take the plunge, that’s all.” “Bah! The first step is the hardest,” the lady retorted; “we must overcome this timidity. I suppose you haven’t ventured to engage anyone? Well then, I shall cure your embarrassment and hurl you into the fray. Come and waltz with me. Give me your arm . . . not like that . . . put your arm around me, so . . . not stiffly, don’t crumple my dress; that’s right! You’ll get the hang of it. . . . Wait for the ritornello, follow my movements . . . here we are . . . let’s go!” And, light as a sylph, bold as a soldier, solid as a besieged citadel amid the jolts of the dancers, she whirled me away. For a while everything seemed like a dream. My sole concerns , as I leapt and spun, were to avoid falling over with my partner, to avoid crumpling her, and to keep in time with the music. Little by little I began to see that I was managing just as well as anyone else—in other words, that these Parisians waltzed just as badly as I did—and I settled down and gained in assurance . I began to look at the creature I was holding in my arms, and discovered, as we waltzed round the room, that this radiant puppet (she was a little out of breath and had been crammed a little too tightly into her bodice) was growing uglier before my very eyes. Her debut had been brilliant, but she fatigued easily; dark circles were developing around her eyes, blotches were appearing in her complexion, and, it must be confessed, she seemed to me less and less young and light. I had some trouble getting her back to her place, and when I tried to thank her politely for initiating me on the dance floor, I came out with such clumsy and coldly respectful language that she scarcely seemed to hear me. “Now then,” I said to my friend Arthur, “who was the lady I’ve just been waltzing with?” “That’s a fine question! Have you lost your wits? I introduced you to her only a moment ago.” “That doesn’t tell me anything.” [3.141.24.134] Project MUSE (2024...