He was happy. He felt on his cheeks the same glow burning as he saw in the faces of the others, and as his eyes, dazed by a soft mist, travelled about the room, and rested admiringly on one fair form after another, his look seemed to say: "We!" His mouth too said it--said, for the pure joy of saying them, sentences in which a "We" occurred. "Shall _we_ sit down? shall _we_ have another turn? shall _we_ have a drink? shall _we_ make up two sets?" It was especially to the maiden with the collar-bones that Klaus Heinrich made remarks with a "We" in them. He had quite forgotten his left hand, it hung down, he felt so happy that it did not worry him and he never thought of hiding it. Many saw now for the first time what really was the matter with it, and looked curiously on with an unconscious grimace at the thin, short arm in the sleeve, the little, by now rather dirty white kid glove which covered the hand. But as Klaus Heinrich was so careless about it, the others plucked up courage, the result being that everybody took hold of the malformed hand quite unconcernedly in the round or square dances. He did not keep it back. He felt himself borne along, nay rather whirled around by a feeling, a strong, wild feeling of contentment, that grew, gathered heat from itself, possessed itself of him more and more recklessly, overpowered him even more vehemently and breathlessly, seemed to lift him triumphantly from the floor. What was happening? It was difficult to say, difficult to be quite sure. The air was full of words, detached cries, not spoken but expressed on the dancers' faces, in their attitudes, in all they were doing and saying. "He must just once! Bring him along, bring him along ...! Caught, caught!" A young damsel with a turned-up nose, who asked him for a gallop when the "leap-year" dance came, said quite clearly without any obvious connexion, "Chucker up!" as she got ready to start off with him.