She is the daughter of wealthy parents; they have been called to mourn
the loss of two of their children; and this is their only remaining
treasure, their darling, their idol almost, whom they love more than
their own lives.
They wish to bestow upon her every accomplishment which modern society
demands, so when it is announced that Prof. ---- will open his select
dancing academy they hasten to place her under his instruction.
At first she seems shocked at the manner in which he embraces her to
teach her the latest waltz.
It is her first experience in the arms of a strange man, with his limbs
pressed to hers, and in her natural modesty she shrinks from so familiar
a touch. It brings a bright flush of indignation to her cheek as she
thinks what an unladylike and indecent position to assume with a man
who, but a few hours before, was an utter stranger, but she says to
herself: "This is the position every one must take who waltzes in the
most approved style--church members and all--so of course it is no harm
for me." She thus takes the first step in casting aside that delicate
God-given instinct which should be the guide of every pure woman in such
matters.
She is very bright and learns rapidly, but a few weeks have passed
before she is able to waltz well, and is surrounded by the handsomest
and most gallant men in the room, who flatter her until her head is
quite turned. She has entirely overcome her delicacy about being
embraced in public for half an hour by strange men. In fact she rather
likes it now. She wonders all day, before dancing school, if that
handsome man who dances so "elegantly" and says such nice things to her,
will ask her to dance with him to-night, and finds herself dreaming of
how delightful it would be to feel his arm about her.
The evening at last comes; the uninteresting square dances are gone
through with, and the music of the waltz begins. Her partner is the
Apollo of her day dreams. He presses her close to his breast, and they
glide over the floor together as if the two were but one.
When she raises her eyes, timidly at first, to that handsome but
deceitful face, now so close to her own, the look that is in his eyes
as they meet hers, seems to burn into her very soul. A strange, sweet
thrill shakes her very being and leaves her weak and powerless and
obliged to depend for support upon the arm which is pressing her to
himself in such a suggestive manner, but the sensation is a pleasant one
and grows to be the very essence of her life.
If a partner fails, through ignorance or innocence, to arouse in her
these feelings, she does not enjoy the dance, mentally styles him a
"bore," and wastes no more waltzes on him. She grows more bold, and from
being able to return shy glances at first, is soon able to meet more
daring ones until, with heart beating against heart, hand clasped in
hand, and eyes looking burning words which lips dare not speak, the
waltz becomes one long, sweet and purely sensual pleasure.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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