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All were watching the count and Marya Dmitrievna. Natasha kept

pulling everyone by sleeve or dress, urging them to "look at

Papa!" though as it was they never took their eyes off the

couple. In the intervals of the dance the count, breathing

deeply, waved and shouted to the musicians to play faster.

Faster, faster, and faster; lightly, more lightly, and yet more

lightly whirled the count, flying round Marya Dmitrievna, now on

his toes, now on his heels; until, turning his partner round to

her seat, he executed the final pas, raising his soft foot

backwards, bowing his perspiring head, smiling and making a wide

sweep with his arm, amid a thunder of applause and laughter led

by Natasha. Both partners stood still, breathing heavily and

wiping their faces with their cambric handkerchiefs.

"That's how we used to dance in our time, ma chere," said the

count.

"That was a Daniel Cooper!" exclaimed Marya Dmitrievna, tucking

up her sleeves and puffing heavily.

CHAPTER XXI