# The Complete Works of Count Tolstoy/Childhood/Chapter 21

XXI.
Before the Mazurka
"Oh, there will be some dancing here, I see," said Serézha, as he left the sitting-room, and took out of his pocket a new pair of kid gloves. "I must put on my gloves."
"What shall I do? We have no gloves," thought I, "and I must go up-stairs and look for some."
Although I rummaged through all the drawers, I found in one of them only our travelling mittens, and in another one kid glove, which could be of no use whatsoever to me: in the first place, because it was exceedingly old and dirty, in the second place, because it was entirely too large; and chiefly, because it lacked the middle finger, which had, no doubt, been cut off by Karl Ivánovich for some ailing hand, I put the remnant of a glove, however, on my hand, and attentively examined that spot on the middle finger which is always black with ink.
"Now, if Natálya Sávishna were here she certainly would find some gloves. I can't go down-stairs in this shape, because when they will ask me why I am not dancing, what am I to say? Neither can I remain here, because they will just as surely discover my absence. What am I to do?" said I, and waved my hands in despair.
"What are you doing here?" said Volódya, who had just run in, "Go, engage a lady, it will begin soon."
"Volódya," said I to him, showing him my hand with ​two fingers sticking out of the soiled glove, and speaking in a voice which expressed a condition bordering on despair, "Volódya, you did not think of this!"
"Of what?" he said, impatiently. "Ah! Of the gloves," he added, quite indifferently, as he noticed my hand; "that is so, we have none, and we shall have to ask grandmother what she has to say about it." And, without reflecting a moment, he ran down-stairs.
The indifference with which he had referred to a subject that had seemed so important to me, calmed me, and I hastened into the drawing-room, entirely forgetful of the monstrous glove which was drawn over my left hand.
Cautiously approaching grandmother's chair, and lightly touching her mantilla, I said in a whisper to her:
"Grandmother, what are we to do? We have no gloves!"
"What is it, my dear?"
"We have no gloves," I repeated, coming nearer and nearer, and placing both my hands on the arm of the chair.
"What is this?" she said, seizing my left hand. "Voyez, ma chère," she continued, turning to Madame Valákhin, "voyez comme ce jeune homme s'est fait élégant pour danser avec votre fille!"
Grandmother held my hand tightly, and with an inviting, though serious, glance looked at the persons present, until the curiosity of all the guests was satisfied, and the laughter had become universal.
I should have been very much aggrieved if Serézha had seen me, as I, shrinking from shame, was trying to pull away my hand; but I did not feel in the least ashamed before Sónichka, who was laughing so heartily that tears stood in her eyes and all her locks kept bobbing about her heated face. I understood that her laughter was too ​loud and unnatural to be derisive; on the contrary, the fact that we were laughing both together, and looking at each other, brought me, in a certain way, nearer to her. The episode with the glove might have had a bad end, but it gave me this advantage, it put me on a free footing with a circle which always appeared to me as the most terrible, — the circle in the drawing-room. I no longer felt the least bashfulness in the parlour.
The suffering of bashful people arises from their uncertainty as to the opinion which is held in regard to them. The moment this opinion is clearly defined, — whatever it may be, — the suffering ceases.
How sweet Sónichka Valákhin was, when she danced a French quadrille opposite me, with the awkward young prince! How sweetly she smiled, when she gave me her hand in the chaîne! How sweetly her blond curls leaped about in even measure on her head! How naïvely she made jeté-assemblé with her tiny feet! In the fifth figure, when my lady ran from me to the opposite side, and I, waiting for the beat, was getting ready to do my solo, Sónichka solemnly compressed her lips and began to look to one side. But she was unnecessarily afraid for me. I boldly made chassé en avant, chassé en arrière, glissade, and, when I came near her, I playfully showed her the glove with the two towering fingers.
She burst into a loud laugh, and even more charmingly scraped her tiny feet on the parquetry. I remember how, when we formed a circle and joined hands, she bent her head, and, without letting my hand go, scratched her little nose against her glove. All that is standing vividly before my eyes, and I still hear the quadrille from the "Maid of the Danube," to the sounds of which it all took place.
Then came a second quadrille, which I danced with Sónichka. When I seated myself by her side, I felt quite uncomfortable, and did not have the slightest idea what ​to talk to her about. When my silence was prolonged too much, I became frightened lest she should take me for a fool, and I decided to free her from such a delusion, at whatever cost. "Vous êtes une habitante de Moscou?" said I to her and, after an affirmative answer, continued: "Et moi, je n'ai encore jamais fréquenté la capitale," calculating particularly on the effect of the word fréquenter. I felt, however, that, though the beginning was very brilliant, and gave complete proof of my superior knowledge of French, I was not able to continue the conversation in that strain. It was still some time before our turn to dance would come, and the silence was renewed. I looked in anguish at her, wishing to know what impression I had made, and expecting her to help me.
"Where did you find such a killing glove?" she suddenly asked me. This question afforded me great pleasure and relief. I explained that the glove belonged to Karl Ivánovich, and somewhat ironically expatiated on his person, telling her how funny he was when he took off his red cap, and how he once, dressed in a green wadded coat, fell from his horse straight into a puddle, and so on. The quadrille passed unnoticed. All that was very well. But why did I refer to Karl Ivánovich in derision? Should I have lost Sónichka's good opinion if I had described him to her with all the love and respect which I felt for him?
When the quadrille was over, Sónichka said "Merci" to me with as sweet an expression as if I really had earned her gratitude. I was in ecstasy, all beside myself with joy, and could not recognize myself: whence came my courage, confidence, and even boldness? "There is not a thing that could confuse me," thought I, carelessly walking up and down the parlour; "I am ready for everything."
Serézha proposed to me to be his vis-à-vis. "All right," said I, "although I have no lady, I will find one." Casting a searching glance over the whole parlour, I noticed that ​all were engaged, except one young lady, who was standing at the door of the drawing-room. A tall young man was just approaching her, as I concluded, in order to invite her. He was within two steps of her, and I at the opposite end of the parlour. In the twinkling of an eye I flew, gracefully sliding over the parquetry, across the whole distance which separated us, and, shuffling my feet before her, with a firm voice, I invited her to the contradance. The tall young lady smiled condescendingly, gave me her hand, and the young man was left without a lady.
I had such a consciousness of my power that I did not even pay any attention to the annoyance of the young man; but I found out later that he had asked who that shaggy boy was that had leaped in front of him and had taken his lady away right before his face.