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Updated: June 25, 2025


She's the girl who was with the poilu at the Rat qui Danse the first night I was in Paris. We went to Louise together." "Must have been a grand sentimental party.... I swear.... I may run after a Jane now and again but I never let them interfere with the business of existence," muttered Henslowe crossly. They were both silent.

Lingering with a restless heart, in Allahabad, Alan Hawke roused himself as at a bugle call, when he received a telegram announcing the safe arrival of the Empress of India at Calcutta. "La danse va commencer," he muttered, as he read the brief words of his employer: "Go on to Delhi, await me there. Telegrams to you there at private address. Leave letters."

This place opens promptly at midnight and closes promptly at two o'clock in the morning. Inasmuch as the Palais du Danse is an institution borrowed outright from the French they have adopted a typically French custom here.

Under the influence of an "establishment," we shall have to record of opera-dancers as of other professions, that "the goddesses are departing!" The danse

Men with long beards, carrying torches, measures of wine, and two drinking-cups, which they knocked together with a great noise, went along, arm in arm, shouting in chorus with rude voices an old round of the League: "Reprenons la danse; Allons, c'est assez. Le printemps commence; Les rois sont passes. "Prenons quelque treve; Nous sommes lasses. Les rois de la feve Nous ont harasses.

'Look up; I verily thought you were sped by Death in bodily shape; but 'twas all an abominable grisly pageant got up by some dismal caitiffs. 'It was the Danse Macabre, added the sweet tone that did indeed unclose Malcolm's eyes, to see Esclairmonde bending over him, and holding wine to his lips.

"Courage, monsieur," said she, with her sweet smile. Then it was "Tres bien, monsieur." Then I heard the voices humming and buzzing about. "Il danse bien, l'Anglais." "Ma foi, oui," says another. On we went, twirling and twisting, and turning and whirling; couple after couple dropped panting off. Little Klingenspohr himself was obliged to give in.

We were alone in the abandoned supper-room. The gorgeously grotesque company was seated in a gigantic circle upon the ball-room floor furiously applauding the efforts of two sweetly pretty girls who were performing the celebrated danse du ventre. "The eternal feminine!" I echoed pensively.

I should perhaps explain why two other essays of his, which also appeared in The Universal Review, have been omitted. The first of these, entitled "L'Affaire Holbein-Rippel," relates to a drawing of Holbein's "Danse des Paysans," in the Basle Museum, which is usually described as a copy, but which Butler believed to be the work of Holbein himself.

"Well, poor old Sir Charles, one of the most modest and retiring men in existence, was standing the other night among the mob, in one of the drawing-rooms, while a waltzing-party were figuring away, at which, with that fondness for 'la danse' that characterizes every German of any age, he was looking with much interest, when my lady came tripping up, and the following short dialogue ensued within my ear-shot: "

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