There is Bruno Toennchen, whose only pleasure is to make the girls blush, or teach them to leave off blushing.

Lenore looks uncommonly well to-night.

I am going to my whist; send for me when the carriage is ready." Anton heard none of these comments upon him; and if the hum of the company around had been as loud as that of the great bell of the city's highest steeple, he would not have heard it better.

For him the whole world had shrunk to the circle round which he and his partner revolved.
The beautiful fair head so near his own that sometimes they touched, the warm breath that played on his cheek, the unspeakable charm of the white glove that hid her small hand, the perfume of her handkerchief, the red flowers fastened to her dress--these he saw and felt; all besides was darkness, barrenness, nothingness.
Suddenly the music stopped, and Anton's world fell back into chaos.
"What a pity!" said Lenore, as the last note died away.
"I thank you for this bliss!" said Anton, leading her back to her place.
As he moved to and fro in the crowd like a rudderless ship amid the waves, Fink took him in tow, and said, "I say, you hypocrite, you have either drunk sweet wine, or you are a quiet sort of Don Juan.

How long have you known the Rothsattel?
You have never spoken of her to me.