Liza of Lambeth | Page 3

dance togither.
Grind away, old cock!'
The man turned on a new tune, and the organ began to play the
Intermezzo from the 'Cavalleria'; other couples quickly followed Liza's
example, and they began to waltz round with the same solemnity as
before; but Liza outdid them all; if the others were as stately as queens,
she was as stately as an empress; the gravity and dignity with which
she waltzed were something appalling, you felt that the minuet was a
frolic in comparison; it would have been a fitting measure to tread
round the grave of a première danseuse, or at the funeral of a
professional humorist. And the graces she put on, the languor of the
eyes, the contemptuous curl of the lips, the exquisite turn of the hand,
the dainty arching of the foot! You felt there could be no questioning
her right to the tyranny of Vere Street.
Suddenly she stopped short, and disengaged herself from her
companion.
'Oh, I sy,' she said, 'this is too bloomin' slow; it gives me the sick.'
That is not precisely what she said, but it is impossible always to give
the exact unexpurgated words of Liza and the other personages of the
story, the reader is therefore entreated with his thoughts to piece out the
necessary imperfections of the dialogue.
'It's too bloomin' slow,' she said again; 'it gives me the sick. Let's 'ave
somethin' a bit more lively than this 'ere waltz. You stand over there,
Sally, an' we'll show 'em 'ow ter skirt dance.'
They all stopped waltzing.
'Talk of the ballet at the Canterbury and South London. You just wite
till you see the ballet at Vere Street, Lambeth--we'll knock 'em!'
She went up to the organ-grinder.
'Na then, Italiano,' she said to him, 'you buck up; give us a tune that's

got some guts in it! See?'
She caught hold of his big hat and squashed it down over his eyes. The
man grinned from ear to ear, and, touching the little catch at the side,
began to play a lively tune such as Liza had asked for.
The men had fallen out, but several girls had put themselves in position,
in couples, standing face to face; and immediately the music struck up,
they began. They held up their skirts on each side, so as to show their
feet, and proceeded to go through the difficult steps and motions of the
dance. Liza was right; they could not have done it better in a trained
ballet. But the best dancer of them all was Liza; she threw her whole
soul into it; forgetting the stiff bearing which she had thought proper to
the waltz, and casting off its elaborate graces, she gave herself up
entirely to the present pleasure. Gradually the other couples stood aside,
so that Liza and Sally were left alone. They paced it carefully, watching
each other's steps, and as if by instinct performing corresponding
movements, so as to make the whole a thing of symmetry.
'I'm abaht done,' said Sally, blowing and puffing. 'I've 'ad enough of it.'
'Go on, Liza!' cried out a dozen voices when Sally stopped.
She gave no sign of having heard them other than calmly to continue
her dance. She glided through the steps, and swayed about, and
manipulated her skirt, all with the most charming grace imaginable,
then, the music altering, she changed the style of her dancing, her feet
moved more quickly, and did not keep so strictly to the ground. She
was getting excited at the admiration of the onlookers, and her dance
grew wilder and more daring. She lifted her skirts higher, brought in
new and more difficult movements into her improvisation, kicking up
her legs she did the wonderful twist, backwards and forwards, of which
the dancer is proud.
'Look at 'er legs!' cried one of the men.
'Look at 'er stockin's!' shouted another; and indeed they were
remarkable, for Liza had chosen them of the same brilliant hue as her

dress, and was herself most proud of the harmony.
Her dance became gayer: her feet scarcely touched the ground, she
whirled round madly.
'Take care yer don't split!' cried out one of the wags, at a very
audacious kick.
The words were hardly out of his mouth when Liza, with a gigantic
effort, raised her foot and kicked off his hat. The feat was greeted with
applause, and she went on, making turns and twists, flourishing her
skirts, kicking higher and higher, and finally, among a volley of shouts,
fell on her hands and turned head over heels in a magnificent
catharine-wheel; then scrambling to her feet again, she tumbled into the
arms of a young man standing in the front of the ring.
'That's right, Liza,' he said. 'Give us a kiss,