The Way of the Waltz

Montag.

He was a handsome count in a smart red and white military uniform with golden epaulets and a sword on his left side. The orchestra played Strauss as a hundred couples waltzed on the ballroom floor. The count was graciously dancing with the wife of a Bohemian minister, smiling and making small talk. I watched the two of them curiously. I could see the count was an exquisite dancer, and waltzing with him would be like sailing on the waves of the Blue Danube. But he had not reserved a slot for me on his dance program. I resigned myself to wait for the last waltz of the ball in which, according to custom, partners were not known ahead of time. In the meanwhile, I thought I would contrive a little practical joke to play on the unsuspecting count.

After Vienna Bonbons, The Voices of Spring, and the Express Polka, I approached the gallant peer who was kissing the hand of a Viennese aristocrat.

"Hochgeboren," I ventured, looking up into his gray eyes.

"Fraulein, you wish to waltz?" he replied, offering a gloved hand. At that moment Wine, Women, and Song started. "Come, we dance." Smiling, he led me around the room. I had imagined correctly, for I felt like one of the bubbles that floated on the surface of the Tokay which swirled about in people's wineglasses. At the final step of the waltz, I brushed past the count on my way out, trying to catch up with my brother and father.

"Good evening," I called after her. She was a good dancer, a little shy, but charming all the same. Funny, I have not seen her before. She was probably the daughter of some poor noble, but that did not matter.

I later joined some officers and their captain, a close friend of mine, in the smoking room. We puffed on Turkish cigars as Dieter, the captain, commented on the night's ball. Granted, the occasion was an opulent one. Hartwig and Klemens recounted the names and looks of all the women with whom they had danced. I smiled conspiratorially, saying nothing.

"Why so quiet, Felix," Adalwolf asked.

"Tired, I suppose. I didn't sit out anything," I replied. That was not why I was silent though. I loved to dance, and hearing a few hours of the Waltz King was nothing less than invigorating. To tell the truth, when the ballroom was emptying out, I had heard a strange crinkling noise in my left pocket, the side where my sword hangs and the side which does not hold the woman. There I had found a white rose and an unsigned note which said:

Thanks for giving me the chance

To talk with you and to dance

I was so glad you found me then

And I hope we waltz again

I did not know if the note had been there throughout the entire ball or only towards the end, but I could make out it was written in a feminine hand. I smiled now at the mystery of it all. I could not imagine who it could be.

Dienstag.

The Carefree Waltz was now playing tonight, the second night of the Christmas celebration. I found the count dancing with the wife of a margrave. He had completed the Acceleration with me. It moved more like a polka than a real waltz. I was actually surprised I managed to keep up with his brisk footwork. He promised to come back to me when Viennese Blood began. Till then I would find the archduke.

"Fraulein," a voice softly said behind me. A Night in Venice had just ended. I slowly turned to meet the silver-gray gaze of the count whose proffered hand glittered from his diamond cufflinks. "Viennese Blood is starting now, and the waltzers await."

Here I was, holding some girl in my arms. No duchess, no countess, no great lady of the Habsburg court, just a girl. That is not to say she was not a little empress in her own right. She certainly danced like one, and I knew plenty of women who were noble in name but not in character. She moved like a silf, a spirit of the Nordic air. Her hand was the smallest I had ever held that evening. I had talked with a dashing lieutenant fond of riding and falconry. I guessed afterwards he could have been my partner's brother because of a certain resemblance in the nose and eyes. But his sister was spare of words.

My thoughts were interrupted when the waltz ended, and my timid partner whisked away before I could offer the usual gallantries. I tried to make out where she was going, but her evening gown soon vanished amid the satins and velvets. I must have been wearing a disappointed expression on my face when the archduke observantly remarked, "Lost her, have you?"

I shrugged. His Highness smiled. "Come now, she will return," he offered. "You are always too pensive, Felix. Besides, I have someone whom I'd wish you meet." He introduced me to a cousin of his from Denmark. She did not speak any German, so we conversed in French.

"Mademoiselle, it is my honor," I said suavely. I would talk to his Highness later. He was making a certain countess from Poland very angry.

I had to flee before he suspected anything. It was fortunate the archduke distracted him for me. I was hiding behind a glass of Tokay, giggling when his Highness pressed his cousin on the count who went from confused to chivalrous in a moment. He would not search for me now. I saw a constrained curiosity in his demeanor, but the gregarious Dane noticed nothing. She smoothly glided with him, chattering about something or the other.

I went into the courtyard with the chords of the Artist's Life behind me. I wonder if he had found my note from yesterday yet. It was too soon to tell, but I had written another tonight and deftly secreted it in his left pocket. I returned to the ballroom for the Flight of Fancy which an officer had reserved for me. He awaited me near the orchestra.

I was back with Dieter and his company smoking Turkish cigars in a large drawing room. The fire blazed warmly as flakes of snow fell outside. Hartwig was going on about some duchess from Brandenburg as Adalwolf and Klemens animatedly conversed about a particular Spanish beauty with "velvet skin and gipsy eyes". I grandiosely puffed my cigar, musing on my second note in two days:

So I see we meet once more

And waltz on the ballroom floor

Come dance tomorrow night

Please honor me this plight

Of course there was no signature, but she hid it in my left pocket again. Whoever she was, she was tantalizingly playful. But who exactly was she?

"Felix! Mum again?" Dieter exclaimed. "You haven't been this quiet since your little sister went to Paris. What ails you?"

"Are you in love?" Klemens probed.

"No, he is not in love. He has been rejected by some femme fatale from Graz. He has been led on, encouraged, coaxed, cajoled, and altogether ensnared by this siren's magnetic eyes and silky voice until he realized he was just this fair creature's plaything," Hartwig filled in dramatically. "Isn't it the truth?" Dieter shook his head at his officer's romanticism. I winked at Klemens though, carefully stowing the note in my breast pocket.

Mittwoch.

I was more careful tonight. She could not elude me for long. All my dance partners were women with whom I had waltzed the previous evening. I had approached each one and asked them to write her name on my card. I had a full program by the time the last slot was filled. Indeed, I had even decided who would dance with me for the last waltz. I knew I was going against custom, but I owed the Polish countess for yesterday.

At present, while Thunder and Lightning played, the margrave's wife was in my arms. She was muttering something about Viennese coffeehouses. I only smiled and politely agreed. I was more intent on matching her signature to the writing of my two notes and really did not give a damn if our chocolate was too bitter now a days.

I could see he was more circumspect, surreptitiously checking his left pocket after every waltz. I could not hide my note there anymore. Although I still had to write the missive, I needed to find a good place on his uniform where I could put it. I also needed to locate a pen and hurry. My turn with the handsome count was coming up after You and You ended.

As if he had distantly read my mind, the archduke strolled by, working out a sum on a small tablet. He was scribbling with a beautiful fountainpen, adding superfluous curlicues to his twos and threes. The nib was moving frantically over his sheet when I asked, "Forgive me, your Highness. But may I use your pen for a moment?"

The prince halted in his work, looked up, and smiled. "But what would you need a pen for when there is dancing to be done?" he countered, offering me the pen regardless.

"You aren't dancing yourself," I challenged, beginning to write.

"Ah, my dear, I have reason to disdain the floor. I am working out how long I have been alive. Seventeen years, you realize, is two hundred four months and eight hundred eighty four weeks," he elucidated, going on to the number of days, hours, and minutes. He had been figuring out the number of seconds when I had requested his pen. I soon finished my note and allowed his Highness to return to his calculations.

Viennese Women was starting, and I made my way to the girl who danced like an empress. She was just leaving the society of the archduke when I extended my hand.

"Fraulein, I come for you. A waltz is beautiful music and a beautiful woman. Let us dance," I said, sliding one arm behind her back. But I was waltzing with a child. Only a child would possess such dainty hands whose gloves smelled like tulips. But the energetic melody of the orchestra chased away any deliberative frame of mind. When the dance ended she, like before, sped away from me. I then inserted my hand into my left pocket and found ... nothing. I took it out, blankly staring at my empty palm.

The evening concluded with the Explosions Polka and a self-satisfied Polish countess. She lingered on my arm for a spell until she had made me promise to dance with her the next night.

"If I could, I would dance every waltz with you, but then what would the other ladies say? Besides, I'm sure there would be a certain handsome margrave who would be rather jealous of my attention," I teased, sending the countess on her way.

I opted not to go meet up with Dieter and his officers for a smoke, preferring instead to spend a thoughtful night alone in my suite. Dieter had wished me a pleasant evening, and Klemens had looked at me sidelong. I left for my carriage, donning a fur-lined cloak to stave off the winter chill. Indeed, it was so cold I dug my hands deep into my pockets and, to my astonishment, felt a folded piece of paper in my right pocket, but I continued to wear a mildly indifferent expression. I was a little disheartened after the countess left because I had found no note and had not wanted to admit I was expecting one. It was just a game after all that someone was playing with me. But the prize in my right pocket made up for everything.

I did not unfold the note till I was shut up in my bed chamber. As I expected, there was a lovely quatrain with no signature:

Count, you are a noble man

But you almost foiled my plan

Careful you are but just wait

With two more days to this fete

Although the penmanship was rushed, the elegant writing matched the other two notes which I had spread out on my desk in front of me. I slowly reread the three verses to learn something else but could discover nothing. At that moment, however, I remembered my dancing program which I had so diligently filled with ladies' signatures. I withdrew it and laid it beside the last quatrain. Needing some stimulus, I lit my pipe and stared hard at the line of signatures and then the verses. I nearly swallowed my light when I saw whose signature matched the quatrain. Helena ...

Donnerstag.

Tonight I abandoned my military uniform. I do not even think Captain Dieter could recognize me. Though I had come in tails, I parted with my coat as soon as I stepped into the ballroom. I was making quite a sensation with my flamboyant jabot which several women coyly fingered as we danced. I do not know if I was laughing from all the times my neck was tickled or from the amusing nature of this secret ballroom game.

With the opening strains of Tales From the Vienna Woods, I thanked the Bohemian duchess. Then I threaded my way to the little empress Helena who was wearing white roses in her hair.

I smiled when I saw him. I had noticed his ridiculously ruffled jabot and wished to feel it. He had had no time to pay me any devoirs since the dance had started, so I fell into his arms and waltzed away. We effortlessly glided around the floor, stepping and turning with liquid grace. Surely, the waltz must be the dance of angels I thought, resting my head on the count's chest.

"Sleepy, are we?" he remarked with a soft chuckle. "No, no, you may remain there if it pleases you," he added when I endeavored to get up. Well, it pleased me much, so I luxuriated in his wonderful jabot.

"Thank you," I murmured. He said nothing, but I could feel him smiling. When the waltz finished, I quickly brushed past the count and rid myself of yet another note.

I headed for the courtyard but was prevented by the count's mellifluous voice behind me. "Fraulein, fraulein, please wait a moment." He reached me and held out a folded piece of paper--my note. "Perhaps you should waltz with my jabot instead of me. Ah, fraulein, you dropped this square of paper at my feet when the dance ended. I'm sure my ruffles would have caught it sooner. Forgive my tardiness." He enclosed my fingers over the missive as I confusedly looked into the argent majesty of his eyes. I mutely gripped my note and sighed in defeat. So he was not interested at all.

I spent Christmas Eve with Dieter and his wife in their mansion just outside Vienna. Knowing I was alone in the capital, the captain had extended his hospitality tonight in an attempt to include me in the holiday's cheer. I had to admit I did feel rather festive, sitting in the living room in front of a roaring fire. I knew who my secret admirer was, and soon a new year with new beginnings was on the horizon. I was the captain's only guest and since he did not have any children, he and his wife gave me company in that warm and welcoming room. Their Christmas tree stood near the bay windows and was decorated with artificial apples and oranges, almonds, tinsel chains, paper snow flakes, and little candles. We talked late into the night about this and that. I remember my last thought concerned Christmas gifts. Doubtless, I would send my valet to shop. However, I would personally select one present for a particular somebody.

Frietag.

It was snowing outside on this Christmas night, and the Emperor Waltz sounded from the far off ballroom. I had not wanted to come, but my father and brother had been in too festive a mood to be refused. So they were dancing with women of the court as I watched the flakes of white descend upon Vienna. It occurred to me how silent snow was, falling soundlessly from the wintry sky. I huddled inside the heavy curtains of the bay window, trying to stay warm in my shoulderless gown with the intensely frigid glass surrounding me. Savoring the stillness of the hallway, my ears immediately pricked up when I heard approaching footsteps.

"It is too cold to be spending Christmas alone, my dear," the crisp voice of the archduke stated, drawing the drapes away. I shivered involuntarily.

"Your Highness ..." I began weakly.

He took my left hand in both of his. "I cannot have you catching chill tonight. Your brother, the lieutenant, would hear none of it. The snow is lovely, but Old Man Winter has no desire to make you his queen. Besides, there is a handsome man waiting for you in the ballroom. You wouldn't want to disappoint him, now would you? Let us return," he urged, slowly compelling me to leave my window seat. I glumly followed, only vaguely dwelling on the handsome man who craved my presence.

The archduke left me when we arrived at the ballroom, and I stood, mesmerized. The chamber was beautifully decorated: Drifts of artificial snow lay at the corners and on the dais where the orchestra played Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers. Great banners of green and red and gold adorned the walls with boughs of holly and ivy. Pearly-silver ribbons hung from the glass chandeliers to resemble icicles, and rose petals were strewn on the marble dance floor. Despite myself, I was smiling at the splendor of the Yuletide decor.

I saw her then. I thought she would never come for some reason. But there she was and radiantly happy. I hope I could add to her happiness. She had to have been the one who gave me all those notes. I was sure of it. At any rate, this was Christmas, and we did not have those infernal dance programs which preordained our partners.

"I thank you for the chance for this ballroom romance. My fair, shall we dance?" I recited, gently pulling her onto the floor. Upon recognizing me, she intook her breath sharply and her eyes lit up. I beamed in turn.

"Graf Adelheim," she stammered.

"Please, Helena, address me as Felix," I requested. The Blue Danube was starting now, and I quickly swept her into my arms with the first tremulous notes.

"But I don't understand," she confessed.

"What's there not to understand?" I asked, squeezing her hand lightly.

"I thought you weren't interested. I thought you were annoyed. Yesterday '' you ..." she said.

"Returned your note?" I supplied.

"Yes," she sighed out. Her smile slackened a bit, and I felt a pang of guilt.

"Ah, yes. But yesterday I wasn't wearing any pockets. You see, it was an experiment to verify you were the messenger. So when a square of paper fell to the ground after I had danced with you, I knew you were the little Iris. And I unfortunately had no place on my person where I could stow the slip safely, so I had to return it to you. Forgive me," I clarified.

"That's why you wore that jabot!" she exclaimed. Her smile was back.

"I needed to employ such a ruse if I wanted to discover who you were. You were too clever at times, switching pockets like you did," I recalled.

"Well, when I saw you checking your left pocket after every waltz, what else could I have done?" she replied.

"It was a very simple solution for you but quite disappointing to me. I thought you had given up on me since I could not figure out who you were," I admitted.

"Give up on you!" she echoed. "Oh. No, no. Never." I laughed then, and she followed suit.

"Tell me," I asked, "do you have a brother who is a lieutenant?"

That charming expression of surprise and astonishment crossed over her face again, and I tilted my head down to see her better. She nodded mutely but did not press me as to how I obtained that information. Instead, she rested her head on my chest and smoothly twirled with me. I understood now why polite society first disapproved of the waltz, what with this wintry nymph melting into me. The waltz did have the potential to be a deeply intimate dance.

"What's so funny?" she inquired when I commenced laughing again.

"Nothing darling. Nothing at all," I responded.

We danced the entire night together, an arrangement which made a few women a trifle envious. I remember the last dance the best. Before it started, however, the count conducted me to the courtyard doors in the corner. We obviously did not go outside because the snow was still falling, but we had a clear view of the giant Christmas tree beyond the glass. A thousand tapers and crystalline globes twinkled in the winter air, dazzling our eyes with color and light. The count produced a silken bag from an inner pocket, and said, "I enjoyed our little game and wish to thank you for it." At that moment, he withdrew a golden chain from which hung a diamond pendant whose facets made the gem resemble a rose. I held my breath. It was a beautiful piece, but the thought behind it was sublime.

"Helena," he declared quietly, "it has been a pleasure." And with that, he fastened the chain around my neck, admired the effect, and invited me to step on the marble dance floor.

"But I have nothing to give you," I admitted, nervously fingering the chain.

"Nonsense, you gave me the occasion for a little romance in Strauss' music," he responded. He prevented any further comment when his eyes darkened with the expectation of the last dance.

At the end of the final waltz, the handsome count drew me closer to himself, raised my chin up with his hand, and kissed me. Encouraged, I encircled his neck with my arms, his golden epaulets obscured by my white gloves, and laid my head on his chest to tickle softly his throat with my fluttering eyelashes. In the distance, the margrave's wife absently asked, "Who are they?" to which the archduke answered, "A happy man and a happy woman."

Finis.