Strange to say, the intoxicating waltz is gone out of vogue with the
humbler classes of Vienna,--its natal soil. Quadrilles, mazurkas, and
other exotics, are now danced by every "Stubenmad'l" in Lerchenfeld,
to the exclusion of the national dance.
On the third day after this, at the appointed hour, I waited upon Prince
Metternich. In the outer antechamber an elderly well-conditioned
red-faced usher, in loosely made clothes of fine black cloth, rose from
a table, and on my announcing myself, said, "If you will go into that
apartment, and take a seat, his Excellency will be disengaged in a short
time." I now entered a large apartment, looking out on the little garden
of the bastion: an officer, in a fresh new white Austrian uniform, stood
motionless and pensive at one of the windows, waiting his turn with a
most formidable roll of papers. The other individual in the room was a
Hungarian, who moved about, sat down, and rose up, with the most
restless impatience, twirled his mustachios, and kept up a most lively
conversation with a caged parrot which stood on the table.
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