第82章 LETTER XII(8)

For the pronunciation of this polysyllabic cognomen,Ican only give you a few plain instructions;commence it with a slight cough,continue with a gurgling in the throat,and finish with the first convulsive movement of a sneeze,imparting to the whole operation a delicate nasal twang.If the result is not something approaching to the sound required,you must relinquish all hope of achieving it,as I did.Luckily,my business was to dance,and not to apostrophize the lady;and accordingly,when the waltz struck up,I hastened to claim,in the dumbest show,the honour of her hand.Although my dancing qualifications have rather rusted during the last two or three years,I remembered that the time was not so very far distant when even the fair Mademoiselle E--had graciously pronounced me to be a very tolerable waltzer,"for an Englishman,"and I led my partner to the circle already formed with the "air capable"which the object of such praise is entitled to assume.There was a certain languid rhythm in the air they were playing which rather offended my ears,but I suspected nothing until,observing the few couples who had already descended into the arena,I became aware that they were twirling about with all the antiquated grace of "la valse a trois temps."Of course my partner would be no exception to the general rule!nobody had ever danced anything else at Throndhjem from the days of Odin downwards;and I had never so much as attempted it.What was to be done?I could not explain the state of the case to Madame Hghelghghagllaghem;she could not understand English,nor I speak Norse.My brain reeled with anxiety to find some solution of the difficulty,or some excuse for rushing from her presence.What if Iwere taken with a sudden bleeding at the nose,or had an apoplectic fit on the spot?Either case would necessitate my being carried decently out,and consigned to oblivion,which would have been a comfort under the circumstances.

There was nothing for it but the courage of despair;so,casting reflection to the winds and my arm round her waist,I suddenly whisked her off her legs,and dashed madly down the room,"a deux temps."At the first perception that something unusual was going on,she gave such an eldritch scream,that the whole society suddenly came to a standstill.I thought it best to assume an aspect of innocent composure and conscious rectitude;which had its effect,for though the lady began with a certain degree of hysterical animation to describe her wrongs,she finished with a hearty laugh,in which the company cordially joined,and I delicately chimed in.For the rest of the dance she seemed to resign herself to her fate,and floated through space,under my guidance,with all the ABANDON of Francesca di Rimini,in Scheffer's famous picture.

The Crown Prince is a tall,fine-looking person;he was very gracious,and asked many questions about my voyage.

At night there was a general illumination,to which the "Foam"contributed some blue lights.

We got under way early this morning,and without a pilot--as we had entered--made our way out to sea again.

I left Throndhjem with regret,not for its own sake,for in spite of balls and illuminations I should think the pleasures of a stay there would not be deliriously exciting;but this whole district is so intimately associated in my mind with all the brilliant episodes of ancient Norwegian History,that I feel as if I were taking leave of all those noble Haralds,and Olafs,and Hacons,among whom I have been living in such pleasant intimacy for some time past.

While we are dropping down the coast,I may as well employ the time in giving you a rapid sketch of the commencement of this fine Norse people,though the story "remonte jusqu'a la nuit des temps,"and has something of the vague magnificence of your own M'Donnell genealogy,ending a long list of great potentates,with "somebody,who was the son of somebody else,who was the son of Scotha,who was the daughter of Pharaoh!"In bygone ages,beyond the Scythian plains and the fens of the Tanais,in that land of the morning,to which neither Grecian letters nor Roman arms had ever penetrated,there was a great city called Asgaard.Of its founder,of its history,we know nothing;but looming through the mists of antiquity we can discern an heroic figure,whose superior attainments won for him the lordship of his own generation,and divine honours from those that succeeded.