Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1889-01-02
THE DANCING CLASS.
Some Social Episodes In Boston.

Some Social Episodes In Boston.
From the Boston Herald
81 should recognize that Papanti step If
came across it among the Esquimaux in Green
land" said a young American dandy to pretty
compatriot whom he had Just met for the first
time at a ball in Florence. at is unmistaka-
BILE. I've been trying all the evening to place
you, hardly supposing that you could hail from
Boston, for you certainly don't look like it,"
with an admiring glance at the fashionable
| figure, the rich complexion and clear, bright
eyes, unobscured by any disfguring glasses,
shut the moment they played the 'Estudian-
tina and you gave me turn, doubted no
more. You see, I'm a Harvard man myself,
spent year in the Friday evening class and
three in the Saturday; SO I know the whole
story" And he smiled to himself at the effect
of his words. For Miss X had been holding
off rather distantly, uncertain as to whether
she ought to treat him with warmth or chilli
ness. Americans abroad have to be SO very
| careful of their countrymen. But the instant
he mentioned the Friday evening class she I'M
| bent in a moment. That placed him at once in
| the ranks OF people one might know.
Then, OF course, you agree with all good
| Bostonians that there is no Muse but Terpsi-
chore, and Papanti is her prophet " said she
| merrily, swinging her great fan of ostrich
| feathers slowly to and fro. 81 wonder We
never met. How long ago were you in college?
Who had the Saturday evening class in your
| day?''
"Oh, it was in 'sS, long before your time"
replied the Harvard man. laughing. .'You see
| l am an old fogy compared with you. Mrs.
Cabot had the class, if remember correctly
Are there as many struggles and heartburn
| ings about it now as there were then? / recol-
lect that in the early fall. when the lists were
being made out, Boston and Cambridge were
| In a wild hutter of excitement"
| Eyes, indeed" responded Miss K, warming
| to her subject and speaking with an earnest
| ness that amused her companion hugely. for he
| had been wandering about the world long
| enough to look back upon the narrow Boston
| prejudlces from a mental distance that made
| them seem very small. 'Of late years there
| have been many new people risen to the sur
| face. Nobody knows who they are or whence
they came, but they are disgustingly rich, and
build themselves superb houses in the best
| neighborhoods. Then, don't you see, they want
| to get into society, and they are determined to
| push their way into the private classes. 1t is
almost impossible to keep them out, for they
do not mind rebuffs and rudeness in the least
and fight desperately, bound to get in by foul
| means If not by fair. Did you ever hear about
that dreadful Mrs. Biscay?''
: mo" the Harvard man said. enjoying him.
self immensely, THAT must be something re-
cent. Tell me about it. do''
Miss X. settled herself comfortably in the old
Medici chair and brushed refractory curl out
of her eyes. They were sitting in a quiet nook
in one OF the gilded salons of that Florence
palace, splendid in the rather somber magnifi-
cence of dark, carved wood, frescoed ceilings.
vast paintings by the old masters. black with
age, ancient hangings, faded and dim, and
quaint, heavy furniture of long past time
Mrs. X. in black velvet, with just diamonds
enough to be impressive without making a
spectacle of herself, was carrying on a subdued
conversation with stately Count Rospigloise
near at hand, beneath wonderful tapestry of
Hercules and Omphale. Now and then other
guests strolled in out, and from the distant
ballroom faint snatches of delicious music
swept in. Everything about them was SO
strange and Boston seemed so far away. that
the little story took on peculiar flavor for its
cynical nearer, who watched Miss Y from
beneath his half-shut eyelids with keen delight
as she began her recital, feeling that it was of
more Importance than anything which ever
befell in the days of Lorenzo the Magnificent.
To the genuine descendant of Puritans, Boston
is always the Hub of the universe.
Before she was married" went on the mel
low tones, always mindful of the broad AS,
Mrs. Biscay lived in south Boston," An i'm
pressive pause. Her father had made great
fortune by boiling soap putting up pickles.
or something of that sort, and she had GER
tain beauty of common, snowy kind Hamil-
ton Biscay met her at the mountains one sum-
mer fell In love, some said with her beauty,
more with her money; married her, brought
her to the old Biscay house on Beacon street
to live. l dare say she is good wife, for he
seems to be happy, but she never got on soci-
ally at all. She was bad form, and people
absolutely refused to take her up. They called
formally and nothing more. She had a daugh-
ter who was her exact image, and common and
pushing like the mother, who was sent to the
best schools Somehow they contrived to get
her into private classes for the younger chill
dren at Papanti's; but when it came to Friday
afternoon, Mrs. Faneuil. who had the class
that year, refused up and down to take her in.
i haven't a place, she wrote to the Biscay
woman. My list is full oh, no, it is not an
swered Mrs. Biscay; Louisa Fuller is going
abroad Unexpectedly with an aunt and that
leaves vacancy 1T is already promised
said Mrs. Faneuil, CURLY. All this was on
paper. Then Mrs. Biscay called upon Mrs
Faneuil. Not at home. She called the second
time. The same result. She went to Mr..
Papantl. The wise man was immovable i
have nothing to do with the private classes
said he, You must go to Mrs. Faneuil.' L have
been to Mrs. Faneuil, and she declares there is
no place. Is that trueY i know nothing about
it, madam said Mr.. Papanti, again. But my
daughter must be in this class. She has a
right to be there, said Mrs. Biscay, furiously.
She is a Biscay. If she were the Queen of
Sheba,' answered the dancing master imper-
turbably, L could do no more. 1t is Mrs.
Faneuifs class, and she decides who are to
compose 1t. have nothing to do with it, And
Mrs. Biscay flung away in towering rage"
Miss y. sat bolt uprightand tossed her pretty
head with scorn. deep flush burned on her
cheeks and her eyes snapped. Her Boston blood
was up.
What do you think that woman did?" she
asked. when the first Friday afternoon came
she had the little girl dressed in purple and
fine linen, ordered the carriage, and drove
down to Papantis. Mrs. Faneuil,' she said
deiantly, addressing that lady, who sat cold
and impressive before her, my daughter has a
right to be in this class. 1t is her place. Her
father is Biscay and connection of your own
Now. bring her here and put her in the class
myself. You may send her out of the hall, if
you like to treat her so cruelty. consider that
am doing my duty no more, and with that
she turned and walked deliberately off, leaving
maid to take charge of the child Mrs. Faneuil
always declared that Bessie Biscay was not in
her class, but she was there at Papanti's every
Friday afternoon just the same and had good
deal of attention. What do you think of that?
Is it not disgraceful? And, to crown all had
letter from home the other day telling me
that Bessie Biscay is the belle of the assemblies
this year! So she got in there. Well, it shows
what push will do"
And Miss y. got up to return to the ball
room, with thoughts very far away A strange
bit of modern story to be told in an old Italian
palace, truly, though the palace itself had seen
the gradual triumph of democracy over aris-
tocracy, for it had once been the home of
princes with the Borgia blood in their proud
veins, and had at last fallen into the hands of a
vulgar American who made millions and mil
lions from pork packing in the west The Har-
ward man unused grimly as he took his fair
charge back for another waltz