and necktie spoil the elegance of his appearance. Near Naum, the dancing-master, with a fiddle and how, is hustling about, balancing himself, rising up and down. He is a man of unusual refinement and grace; he wears a white vest, patent-leather slippers, and a smoking jacket. And Anathema, standing at the veranda door, looks upon all this with an air of sadness and reproach.

DANCING-MASTER.

One—two—three; one—two—three.

SARAH.

Look, David, see how successful our Naum is in his dancing. I could not hop like that for anything? poor boy!

DAVID.

I see.

DANCING-MASTER.

Monsieur Naum is very talented. Please, one-two—three; one—two—three. Pardon me, pardon me, this isn't exactly right. You must make the step more precise, neatly rounding the motion of the right foot. This way—this way.

CONTENTS

Shows him how to do it.

Madam Leizer, dancing is quite like mathematics, a circle is necessary.

SARAH.

Do you hear, David?

DAVID.

I hear.

DANCING-MASTER.

Please, monsieur Naum. One—two—three.

CONTENTS

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