* 𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙 / 𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦

"to new friendships! i'm glad to count you amongst their numbers, riya." to be so quickly upon a first name's basis would have the lingerers and gems talking, but aera minds not. somehow, it feels rare to find someone who wants to bond over the eating and dining as action rather than the idea of conversation surrounding it. to discuss food and to experience food are two different animals, each with their appropriate part to play, but how aera prefers the latter! "friends are honest about how their dancing and partying has gone, so. has yours treated you well?" a pause to chew, not every ounce of decorum lost despite their newfound excitement. not only were they sharing similarity, but riya was beautiful and of house das. the name knows its reaches currently. "i'm feeling rather dashed already. these dances have me moving quickly. i've never gotten the hang of the reels, but then again, square dancing might be just as shocking." another bite. they half-hoped a square dance would be played, they could do that with eyes closed.

a flickering of acknowledgement passes over his face. "ah ... then my condolences. love is not a source of luck." not for me either, but he supposes the last person she would want to hear about is someone with so many distant bygones and hopefuls. "did you not wish for it?" any awkward situation sometimes requires a good fleeing. lasaru has seen many flee from the measurements stool upon realising their good friends chose the exact same designs without collaborating with them. hurt feelings were hurt feelings no matter the cause, and he takes in a breath that sounds like the seaside to his ears, scraping his throat. "it's been too long since i've been asked to any party worthy of nobility, mademoiselle, i find the rules draining." despite how long he has lived in them, bore witness to them up close. his ears perk at the name. "it's difficult to miss her, i think. when she's out there displeased, she's quite loud, quacking as a duck in a small pond so as not to be outdone, yes? she asked me for new shoes." not really a secret, as eventually, they would be worn and seen, but las finds it difficult to hide a smile. a young lady calling another young lady chirpy is ... interesting.

There was nothing quite like the Moonstone room, but it was not just the shimmering, eerie decor, or how the pale, gauzy curtains made it seem as those who entered the room had stepped into a dream. Nalan could not help himself, he ran his fingers against the fabric and he could feel the quality between his fingers. Then there were the masked figures, offering their appraisals to those who dared approach and given his recent scandals, Nalan did not dare to seek an appraisal of his own. Amongst the crowd, Nalan watches as gentlemen and ladies dared to be appraised, their smiles once full of wonder now brittle and strained after their encounter with Moonstone Judges. Just as all of London had begun to see, would they see beneath the refined Cambridge education or the wealth of his father? “Tell me, have you submitted yourself for an appraisal or do you believe that your chosen gemstone tells the world enough about who you are?” Nalan Das was more curious at others appraisals than his own, maybe even his own sisters would dare to ask for their judgement, but for now, Nalan was content on the side-lines, happy talking with others instead of being judged by them.

"heavens, no, who would do such a thing?" laughter bubbles in her throat, the fan moving ever the faster. the gossip and appraisals interests her as well, and she has yet to move through the masses. so far as she would be concerned, she would not be partaking. let them fuss and muddle. "they all do a fine job of appraising us no matter what we wear." fan flicking all the more, watching as he touches the curtains and arching a brow. what on earth is he doing? good grief, is he going to try to steal the damn thing? eden purses her lips at the idea, more than willing to encourage such a petty theft, so long as she didn't have to be the one doing it. "i believe actions speak louder than words, and less words should be spoken. don't you agree?" their fan gestures towards their person, up and down the length of their gown, in a burst of pale, pale lilacs and ivories, striking.

The Lytton’s were a fascinating family, but for all the wrong reasons in Sophia’s opinion. To have bought their way into social acceptance last year was a difficult feat and one that the princess did not admire, and yet they had somehow endured and thrived within the ton. Now, one of their own was named the bachelor of the season and Mx Lytton and their brother remained, overshadowed by their own guest. “You were the chosen diamond last season, it is little wonder as to why I remember your name Mx Lytton, though it is a shame that you remain untethered to anyone. Is that of your doing or societies, Mx Lytton?” The princess did not mean to be harsh in her words, if they were to enter the diamond trial then she needed to be sure that her partner would be made of sterner stuff than most in the ton and added to the fact they were American was not ideal, but no less fun, or so Sophia had hoped. The Americans had such high expectations of fun, the English society sounded rather dull in comparison to their own adventures. Without any more delay, Sophia took the first step and walked through the threshold of the Diamond Trial, which surely could not be much worse than her Moonstone Appraisal, but curiosity got the better of her once again. The masked individuals were scattered about, looking for their victim and they were delighted when they saw the princess of England and the American heir. While they moved through, Sophia could hear the not-so-subtle whispers, all of them whispering about the princesses two failed engagements, a brother who had run away while the other gambled away the kingdom’s fortune. “I take no notice of their words, they are meaningless if they are hidden behind a mask and if they are bothering you, we shall endure it together and come out the other side stronger for it, I am sure.” 

perhaps  it  should  make  them  nervous,  but  the  trial  didn't.  and  with  the  princess's  own  air  of  confidence,  aera  uncovers  their  own  and  brings  it  to  the  forefront.  their  chin  juts,  their  shoulders  squared.  the  whispers  begin  about  the  princess,  the  things  she  wondered  if  others  said;  these  others  say  them.  it  is  the  same  for  aera,  the  whisper  of  lettres  written  and  affections  provided,  and  this  adds  to  the  sharp  pang  of  sophia's  question.  “i  would  say  both,  your  grace.  i  haven't  found  anybody  who's  willing  to  keep  up  with  me  without  telling  me  to  slow  down.  i  may  not  crave  constant  adventure  nor  travel,  but  to  be  caged  as  a  bird  is  not  the  future  i  want  either.  some  of  us  don't  gamble.”  this  comment  aimed  at  one  of  the  diamonds  with  the  glittering  mask,  and  may  it  be  cursed  to  be  rhinestones,  upon  the  whispers  of  gambling  away  the  kingdom.  certainly  that  is  nobody's  true  business  if  they  aren't  part  of  the  house,  and  the  person  behind  the  mask  purses  their  lips,  as  if  offended,  then  changes  their  whisper. if  only  the  american  was  good  enough  to  be  heiress,  then  their  brother  wouldn't  have  to  take  it  from  them.  aera  arches  a  brow.  such  comments  do  sting,  but  they  straighten  further.  “it's  easy  to  make  these  kinds  of  comments  when  masked,  i  agree.  it's  a  test  of  our  willpower  and  nothing  more.  do  you  wonder  if  anything  about  others  is  true  when  you  hear  it?”  maybe  this  too  was  a  harsh  or  forward  question,  but  this  was  a  harsh  and  forward  expedition.  it  reminds  them  of  their  first  voyage  to  english,  the  winds  in  the  sails  of  the  ship,  the  storm  on  the  distant  horizon.  they  came  out  the  other  side  of  that  too.  whispers  become  murmurs,  as  if  matching  the  reflected  boldness  of  the  two  who  go  through  the  trial  with  grace. “i  admit  it  makes  me  curious,  but  i  like  to  let  people  speak  for  themselves.”  whether  this  gives  way  for  confirmation  or  otherwise  of  the  whispers,  aera  seeks  not  for  this  gossip.  and  there  was  plenty  in  there  that  wasn't  anywhere  near  true,  such  as  their  not  being  an  actual  lytton.

Someone who could appreciate the finer things, the materials needed for such endeavors was one that Nalan appreciated even if he did not see them in the same standing as himself. Lasaru was not those amongst Nalan considered inferior, the man was an expert at his trade and without such skills, London would surely fall apart and therefore, Lasaru was amongst those in London whose value was beyond compare especially with such expert craftsmanship.  “Does it not scream new money, as if they have gone into a fabric store and asked for the most expensive without considering taste or decorum?” Nalan Das was almost an expert in scandals, or so it had felt recently, but watching others flit about as they willingly, unreservedly gave up those more precious than jewels was either astounding or plain stupid, Nalan had just yet to decide which one it was.  “That is quite an assumption to make, but one I have no quarrels in believing given how the season operates but I hope to find a friend in you, Mr Bessette. I have my family’s fabric business and with your shop, I believe we could both be unstoppable. Perhaps I could even introduce your son to my sister, Lady Kavika, baroness of Bedford?” It would be mutually beneficial, a sister engaged or matched with the son of a modiste, elevated in every sense of the world while ensuring that she would not outrank her own brother more than she already did.

how  ghastly  to  imagine  perusing  a  fabric  store  for  a  full-blown  garment.  the  lack  of  any  attention  to  detail  and  payment  for  the  artisans  in  questions  makes  las  scoff  in  kind.  a  shake  of  his  head  as  the  gowns  continue,  some  clear  resemblance  between  paper  and  these  fabrics.  “mm,  i  hope  not,  but  i  also  have  very  little  hope,  monsieur  das,  that  skirt  right  there  is  missing  stitches,  and  the  pearls  on  that  lady  are  false.”  if  only  cigars  were  allowed  inside,  thus  it  would  be  lit  and  even  shared,  for  there  were  two  in  his  lapel  pocket,  but  for  the  time  being,  las  foregoes  the  smoke  of  this  for  the  ones  of  words. “faster  and  convenient  fashion  attempts  to  chase  our  businesses,  but  you  know  quality  as  well  as  i.”  not  even  boldness  to  state  this  in  the  modiste's  mind,  but  observation,  acknowledgement  of  the  empire  the  das  house  has  constructed  from  the  ground  up.  the  scandals  which  broke  didn't  cause  him  fear  to  be  seen  speaking  with  nalan  and  there  was  a  modicum  of  admiration  in  how  he  picked  himself  up  after  that.  it  makes  las  wonder  how  he  would  react  to  such  news  breaking.  “we  may  very  well  be  friends,  yes.  the  seasons  are  fickle,  but  the  fashion  shifts  drive  the  direction.  without  you,  fashion  would  simply  not  exist  here.”  hard  to  create  much  of  anything  if  fabric  itself  struggles,  and  las  thinks  of  the  wisdom  of  keeping  nalan's  sources  out  of  the  aforementioned  faster  shops.  at  the  introduction  offer,  his  chest  tightens.  oh,  ramón,  he  would  not  be  pleased  if  he  found  out  las  agreed,  so  rebellious  could  he  be  —  but  it  would  assist  in  their  station  and  security.  “i'm  honoured  you  consider  ramón.”  a  nod  of  respect.  “please,  if  you'd  like  to  introduce  him  to  miss  das,  you  have  my  blessing.”  besides,  a  meeting  was  a  meeting,  no  need  to  jump  to  conclusions  in  his  mind. 

they  give  him  an  incredulous  look,  but  a  grateful  one  all  the  same.  the  reminder  comes  at  a  time  when  soft  edges  need  be  sharpened  and  societal  norms  bind  them,  yet  here  they  both  are  on  the  outskirts.  aera  clings  to  the  idea  that  gems  are  imperfect,  even  if  others  don't  wish  to  see  it  that  way.  and  if  one  person  could,  surely  others  could  join  along  with  the  mindset.  “so  we're  to  march  in  there  and  say  that  to  the  judging  opals  or  whoever  they  are?”  retort  they.  “i'd  like  to  see  their  gasps  behind  the  masks,  to  tell  you  the  truth.”  maybe  stirring  things  up  and  changing  the  status  quo  was  necessary.  one  cannot  be  elected  diamond  twice  in  a  row  nor  ever  again  so  far  as  aera  knows,  so  what  matters? “how  weak  do  you  think  them?  really  and  truly.”  they  almost  wish  not  to  edge  towards  the  cliff  of  any  gossip,  but  edgar  has  the  common  sense  aera  seeks,  the  perspective  which  was  simpler  to  agree  with.  an  outlook  which  didn't  further  add  stress  nor  burden  upon  their  shoulders,  strengthened  the  spine  in  how  they  assisted  holding  junho  up  where  he  needed  support.  a  laugh:  “terrifying  them!  what,  is  he  a  hard  man  to  gain  approval  of?  i  danced  with  him  earlier  in  the  night.  he  is  …”  a  pause.  a  searching  of  the  skies,  the  stars  hanging  visible  through  the  thin  cloud  cover.  “…  a  confident  lord,  certainly.” others  might  have  another  word  for  it,  but  aera  found  it  easy  to  match  his  energy  as  well.  and  they  would  not  wish  to  be  called  arrogant  —  not  yet.  “mr.  frederic  did  appear  ready  to  sprint  away.  well.  they've  found  their  moments,  and  we've  found  ours.”  if  they  had  a  separate  glass,  it  would  be  raised  in  toast.  “this  is  the  real  you,  then?  what  am  i  to  think  when  i  see  you  charming  others  in  the  ballroom  after  this?”  inquisitive.  aera  puts  forth  their  own  performance,  one  clearly  noticed  by  even  he.  but  he  seems  to  not  want  to  label  them  in  a  particular  box  despite  that,  which  both  confuses  and  intrigues  them.

eyes  widen  when  he  takes  her  hand.  oh,  dear.  he  most  certainly  wasn't  looking  at  where  he  was  grabbing.  more  surprise  than  much  anything  else  spurs  her  to  rise  alongside  him,  the  spiking  of  her  adrenaline  encouraging  the  serpentine  moves  and  her  hands  to  raise  to  clap.  when  this  motion  comes,  at  last,  she  makes  eye  contact  with  him,  still  rather  incredulous  in  expression.  “  is  this  easy?  it  feels  ghastly  and  fast  to  me  —  ”  cut  off  by  the  reel  of  the  music,  and  music  is  what  she  is  made  of,  faltering  in  the  following  move  to  attempt  to  lift  her  skirts  to  step  with  him.  “  good  heavens!  whose  name  for  this  dance  will  be  put  on  my  card,  sir?  you  dizzy  me.  ”   whether  or  not  that  was  a  good  or  a  bad  thing,  eden  reserves  opinion.  still,  there's  something  ridiculous  about  the  whole  thing.  and  she  can't  decide  whether  she  is  thrilled  by  this  or  not.

he  has  kept  his  manners  intact.  but  it  becomes  much  easier  to  release  those  to  the  winds  at  this  opened  place  away  from  the  hullabaloo,  and  lasaru's  laugh  rocks  through  the  clear  of  the  night.  “  oh,  i  suppose.  i  suppose  i  am  happy,  even  if  i  am  filled  with  doubt.  ”  pulling  a  similar  cigar  from  his  inner  pocket,  for  it  is  in  fact  of  the  same  brand,  simply  rolled  a  bit  differently.  a  personal  lighter  to  the  end,  awaiting  the  unique  tobacco  to  alight  and  comfort  him.  “  it  should  fill  you  with  strength  and  confidence  as  well,  ramón.  some  of  your  designs  are  most  complimented.  ” it  was  getting  to  the  point  where  ramón  could  sign  his  own  name  to  some  of  the  creations,  but  not  all.  the  reputation  for  his  work  had  not  yet  gained,  and  lasaru  stepped  in  to  assist  that.  (  did  it?  or  did  it  hurt  him?  )  “  you  astounded  me  with  your  take  on  the  tourmaline.  ”  it  was  as  close  to  some  kind  of  affectionate  compliment,  especially  about  work,  as  lasaru  would  get.  for  most  others,  it  could  be  taken  in  both  the  negative  and  positive  light.

ramón  gently  spins  them  back  to  face  the  mirror,  hand  hovering  at  the  small  of  their  back.  "so  if  you  want  to  move  around  those  eggshells  with  more,  i  will  gladly  assist  in  shaping  its  look.  though  this  look  does  look  exquisite  with  the  inlay,  if  i  do  say  so  myself."

“ you're  going  to  make  my  ego  the  size  of  a  theatre. ”  other  than  this,  they  accept  his  words,  and  a  shy  huff  fills  their  body.  they  almost  can't  look  at  him  as  they  finally  go  still,  allowing  the  movements  to  be  relegated  to  their  left  hand  only,  where  they  flex  and  stretch  the  fingers.  feeling  the  nails  against  their  palm,  then  leaving  them.  a  reminder  of  being  in  their  body,  of  being  human  even  now.  how  odd  to  need  to  remember  that.  “  especially  when  you  and  i  both  know  london  chooses  a  diamond  based  on  seasonal  whimsy,  not  any  previous  reputation  or  lack  thereof.  ”  in  their  mind,  reputation  certainly  assists  it,  but  they  see  some  choices  as  bias.  they  wonder  what  bias  resulted  in  their  diamond  election  last  year  —  and  almost  don't  want  to  know. there  are  blows  to  their  confidence  enough.  “  i'm  most  pleased  about  the  inlay.  ”  complimentary.  “  you  showed  me  how  you  managed  it,  and  yet  i  still  can't  wrap  my  head  around  it.  ”  in  a  way,  its  delicacy  almost  felt  foreign  to  aera.  of  another  country,  time,  or  personality,  not  someone  such  as  they.  part  of  them  was  surprised  to  have  accepted  it  as  part  of  the  design.  “  how  do  you  set a  trend?  a  modiste  has  different  freedoms  to  that  than  i.  ”  they  wore  the  pearl  earrings  as  he  had  requested  to  match  the  accent  colouring.  only  one  is  visible  in  how  they  turn  to  look  at  him.

aera  falls  silent  to  listen.  the  initial  spiritual  rupture,  as  they  like  to  call  it,  of  interrupting  another  person  settles  into  that  vibrant  hum.  awkwardness  or  not,  aera  was  accustomed  to  this  kind  of  reception,  both  due  to  being  an  american  and  even  within  their  own  family.  junho  often  jolted  out  of  his  skin  and  had  a  little  remark  when  they  accidentally  interrupted  him  before;  truthfully,  this  felt  no  different.  at  the  softest,  it  was  clear  she  enjoyed  talking  about  the  heirloom,  and  aera  enjoyed  listening.  such  encounters  could  be  that  simple.  “  ah,  i  see.  it's  a  comforting  colour,  i  agree.  i  believe  i  read  in  a  novel  once  it's  considered  to  be  liquid  sunshine,  and  heals  the  person  who  wears  it.  ”  and  they  say  there  are  no  truth  in  novels!  this  lady  embodies  it,  though  her  sunshine  seems  hesitant  to  emerge. “  ms.  mercier,  i  didn't  introduce  myself  either  before  i  impeded  on  your  solitude.  ”  they  wink.  “  mx.  aera  lytton,  of  the  railroad  business,  so  on.  charmed  to  meet  you.  ”  and  they  are.  to  meet  anybody  like  this  when  thrust  together  into  a  loud  party  is  charming.  they  must  view  it  this  way  lest  they  begin  to  go  insane.  “  is  this  your  first  time  in  london's  season?  ”  there  has  been  an  influx  of  people  aera  hasn't  met.  this  is  their  second  time  in  the  season,  so  that  doesn't  quite  worry  them  as  of  now,  but  if  it  continues,  they  may  start  to  worry  about  not  paying  as  much  attention  as  they  should.  it's  difficult  to  keep  track  sometimes,  the  comings  and  goings  of  the  whims  of  london.

lasaru  was  much  the  same  when  it  came  to  clothes.  some  might  label  him  as  being  judgemental  —  and  to  a  degree,  this  assumption  is  right.  but  at  the  end  of  the  day,  it  comes  down  to  the  love  of  the  garments,  of  the  craft  and  showing  one's  skill  through  others  wearing  it.  that  is  the  purpose  of  a  modiste,  and  the  passion  in  kaira's  eyes  often  reflects  the  one  he  has  in  his  own.  he  cannot  resent  her  for  that,  even  if  that  odd  grief  fills  him,  knowing  eventually  age  will  be  against  him.  his  fingers  will  become  unsteady,  his  eyes  unfocused,  and  no  longer  as  particular  as  he  once  could  be.  “  then  the  honour  still  shall  be  mine.  ”  offering  her  his  hand,  paused  until  she  takes  it. it  seems  as  if  the  orchestra  will  warm  up  for  a  livelier  reel.  the  music  has  been  in  full  swing  for  some  time,  and  yet  the  melodramatics  around  him  haven't  yet  wore  him  down.  he  takes  his  pace  in  the  line  and  bows  to  her  to  begin  the  dance,  a  deep  bow  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back.  he  then  extends  the  other  to  her.  “  the  diamonds  who  are  here  to  rate  us  may  disagree,  but  i  too  can  see  the  work  you've  put  in  to  yours.  may  we  be  crowned  the  best  of  the  night  to  spite  them  then.  ”  a  rather  mischievous  smile,  all  things  considering.  las  still  doesn't  mind  these  moments  being  stuck  to  the  upper  class,  when  able.  “  unless  my  eyes  mistake  me,  i  think  i  see  some  of  your  stitching  on  the  barnetts'  most  honoured  guests,  yes?  ”  he  is  equal  parts  curious  to  hear  who  is  a  patron  of  hers  as  of  late.

“ i  prefer  to  let  my  work  do  the  speaking  for  me,  monsieur. ”  some  might  assign  additional  ego  this  decision,  but  although  some  choices  come  from  ego,  that  one  doesn't  for  las.  having  been  in  the  modiste  field  for  a  handful  of  decades,  and  learning  the  arts  since  he  had  once  cleaned  his  hands  well  enough  to  hold  a  needle  steadier,  the  experience  and  the  progress  was  enough  for  such  words.  interest  piques,  and  las  lowers  his  drink  from  the  proverbial  sips  he  has  seemed  to  be  doing  over  the  course  of  the  evening.  lips,  twitching  at  the  offer  of  true  cash,  and  las  chortles.  a  disparaging  word  of  one  family  against  another  always  alerts  them,  makes  them  wonder  what  else  has  happened.  “  i  see  the  barnetts  do  not  impress  you  with  their  splendour?  ”  with  his  pinky,  he  gestures  towards  those  hesitant  diamonds  and  judgemental  pearls.  “  i  do  wonder  how  much  will  remain  for  them  after  this,  but  i  take  a  man  at  his  word.  what  pieces  are  you  wishing  to  have?  ”  las  takes  in  the  cut  of  his  current  clothes,  the  sateen  of  the  fabric  as  opposed  to  what  should've  been  used.  he  wonders  if  the  lord  is  aware,  or  if  it  would  matter,  and  for  now  he  keeps  it  to  himself.

the  eldest  lytton  makes  a  beeline  for  the  duck  tail.  as  in,  the  one  where  his  dancing  jacket  has  popped  out  in  the  back,  and  they  press  it  down  and  tuck  it  back  into  the  line  of  his  belt  before  leaning  over  his  shoulder.  “you  had  a  tail  swimming  back  there,  오리.”  whispered  to  his  ear.  regardless  of  where  they  would  be,  aera  would  look  after  him.  make  sure  he  stayed  neat,  presentable;  make  sure  eyes  were  upon  him  and  completely  enamoured.  “i'm  enjoying  myself  much  better  now  that  i've  found  you  amidst  all  these  sour  faces.  i  guess  the  gleam  is  leaving  the  jewel  for  most.” then  they  come  to  stand  beside  him,  the  aroma  of  the  sweet  emitting  as  he  chews  upon  it,  and  the  slight  mother  in  them  almost  wishes  to  tell  him  to  get  rid  of  that  faster  and  stand  up  straight  —  but  that  would  be  erasure  of  all  things  junho,  and  aera  would  be  damned  if  they  succumbed  to  such  idiotic  thinking.  if  those  around  didn't  like  him  for  who  he  was,  and  attempted  to  drain  him  dry  for  what  he  could  bring,  they  would  have  to  go  through  them  first. “your  dance  card  best  be  full.  if  not,  point  me  in  the  direction  of  those  who  rejected  you  and  their  drinks  will  find  themselves  mysteriously  spilled.”  they  beam  at  him.  pride  fills  them,  seeing  him  even  having  attended.  small  steps  for  the  lytton  house,  for  security  and  fortune.

he  ducks  his  head  in  a  solemn  nod,  his  smile  threatening  to  cut  through.  ah,  the  young  martyrs  of  the  season,  debuting  and  being  daring  so  far  as  decorum  would  allow.  he  had  various  through  le  mesure,  debutantes  who  came  back  for  engagement  and  wedding  gowns,  others  who  faded  after  the  season  was  finished  with  them,  and  many  of  those  who  fell  in  the  middle.  where  would  she  fall?  this,  so  it  keeps  him  engaged.  “shall  i  request  another  polka  for  you,  miss  thorne?  they  may  even  bring  out  an  accordion.”  las  had  spied  a  case  behind  the  rest  of  the  orchestra,  truly  prepared  for  any  taste. “i  can  make  such  a  pair  of  shoes  for  you  that  will  not  welt  your  soles.  but  the  shoe  in  question,  i  must  study  it.”  he  declines  no  such  offers,  however  quips  or  flippant  they  may  be.  the  business  was  still  in  good  credit,  but  this  was  a  perilous  cliff's  edge,  and  las  took  nothing  for  granted,  even  as  he  himself  …  well,  was  somewhat  crooked  in  how  he  viewed  it.  “as  for  my  taste  in  music,  i  like  the  quadrilles.  there  is  speed  enough,  changing  form,  and  yet  also  you  can  speak  to  one  another.”  it  may  also  give  hints  as  to  from  where  he  hails,  for  the  dance  recently  has  been  imported  to  the  english  season  from  france,  a  lovely  thing  he  recalls  mimicking  with  other  street  children  from  his  youth.