“And if the father and mother refused?”

“Then you would make your bow and go, leaving them to repent of their folly, for the girl would sigh, and weep, and moan, bewail parental tyranny, call Heaven to witness the innocency of going to a ball, and finally go into convulsions.”

This oration, which was uttered in the most persuasive style, made me quite gay, for I scented an intrigue from afar.  I thanked the masked (who spoke Italian very well) and promised to follow his advice and to let him know the results.

“I shall be delighted to hear of your success, and you will find me in the box, where I shall be glad if you will follow me now, to be introduced to the lady who is my constant companion.”

I was astonished at so much politeness, and told him my name and followed him.  He took me into a box where there were two ladies and an elderly man.  They were talking about the ball, so I put in a remark or two on the same topic, which seemed to meet with approval.  One of the two ladies, who retained some traces of her former beauty, asked me, in excellent French, what circles I moved in.

“I have only been a short time in Madrid, and not having been presented at Court I really know no one.”

“Really!  I quite pity you.  Come and see me, you will be welcome.  My name is Pichona, and anybody will tell you where I live.”

“I shall be delighted to pay my respects to you, madam.”

What I liked best about the spectacle was a wonderful and fantastic dance which was struck up at midnight.  It was the famous fandango, of which I had often heard, but of which I had absolutely no idea.  I had seen it danced on the stage in France and Italy, but the actors were careful not to use those voluptuous gestures which make it the most seductive in the world.  It cannot be described.  Each couple only dances three steps, but the gestures and the attitudes are the most lascivious imaginable.  Everything is represented, from the sigh of desire to the final ecstasy; it is a very history of love.  I could not conceive a woman refusing her partner anything after this dance, for it seemed made to stir up the senses.  I was so excited at this Bacchanalian spectacle that I burst out into cries of delight.  The masker who had taken me to his box told me that I should see the fandango danced by the Gitanas with good partners.

“But,” I remarked, “does not the Inquisition object to this dance?”

Madame Pichona told me that it was absolutely forbidden, and would not be danced unless the Count of Aranda had given permission.

I heard afterwards that, on the count forbidding the fandango, the ball-room was deserted with bitter complaints, and on the prohibition being withdrawn everyone was loud in his praise.

The next day I told my infamous page to get me a Spaniard who would teach me the fandango.  He brought me an actor, who also gave me Spanish lessons, for he pronounced the language admirably.  In the course of three days the young actor taught me all the steps so well that, by the confession of the Spaniards themselves, I danced it to perfection.