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Updated: May 1, 2025
"I don't know," said Carl, gloomily smiling, and then smiling without gloom. "Waldteufel's waltzes arranged for four hands. You must play them with me at once." And he did. It was a sad spectacle to see the organist of St Placid's galloping through a series of dances with the empty-headed Edith. The worst was, he liked it.
Prince Metternich, knowing the music, thought he was absolutely necessary at the piano, consequently he took Waldteufel's place there. I, as "the expert," led off. However, he and I managed to finish our part; but the Emperor refused to be swung, and we marched down the middle of the line, hand in hand, disregarding the rules in a truly royal manner.
Left to themselves, Madge began playing Waldteufel's last new valse, a dreamy, haunting melody, with a touch of sadness in it, and Brian, lying lazily on the sofa, listened. Then she sang a gay little French song about Love and a Butterfly, with a mocking refrain, which made Brian laugh. "A memory of Offenbach," he said, rising and coming over to the piano.
To what act in the passion drama had her love come to-night as she floated round the room, with her head inclined towards her lover's breast, the strong pulsation of his heart sounding in her ear, like the rhythmical beat of the basses yonder in Waldteufel's last waltz?
The smell of mignonette that spread in from the window-box through the turquoise-blue Venetian blinds; the chattering of the love-birds; the strains of a waltz of Waldteufel's floating up from a German band in the street below they ran into a single sensation that was like the stab of cold steel.
It appeared that Edith would never play anything but waltzes Waldteufel's for choice and that the foolish frivolity of her flyaway character was a direct consequence of this habit. Carl felt sadly glad, after hearing the description of Edith's carryings-on, that Edith had chosen to live far away.
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