oes. But how he could have marked the time with the broad
heels and spun round on the thick soles! Something was dragging and
pulling him and trying to hurl him out on the floor like a whipped
ball. He could still resist it, although his excitement grew
stronger as the hours advanced. He grew delirious and hot. Heigh
ho, he was no longer poor Petter Nord! He was the young whirlwind,
that raises the seas and overthrows the forests.

Just then a hambo-polska [Note: A Swedish national dance of a very
lively character] struck up. The peasant boy was quite beside himself.
He thought it sounded like the polska, like the Vaermland polska.

Suddenly Petter Nord was out on the floor. All his fine manners
dropped off him. He was no longer at the town-hall ball; he was at
home in the barn at the midsummer dance. He came forward, his knees
bent, his head drawn down between his shoulders. Without stopping
to ask, he threw his arms round a lady's waist and drew her with
him. And then he began to dance the polska.

The girl followed him, half unwillingly, almost dragged. She was
not in time; she did not know what kind of a dance it was, but
suddenly it went quite of itself. The mystery of the dance was
revealed to her. The polska bore her, lifted her; her feet had
wings; she felt as light as air. She thought that she was flying.

For the Vaermland polska is the most wonderful dance. It transforms
the heavy-footed sons of earth. Without a sound soles an inch thick
float over the unplaned barn floor. They whirl about, light as
leaves in an autumn wind. It is supple, quick, silent, gliding. Its
noble, measured movements set the body free and let it feel itself
light, elastic, floating.

While Petter Nord danced the dance of his native land, there was
silence in the ball-room. At first people laughed, but then they
all recognized that this was dancing. It floated away in even,
rapid whirls; it was dancing indeed, if anything.

In the midst of his delirium Petter Nord perceived that round about
him reigned a strange silence. He stopped short and passed his hand
over his forehead. There was no black barn floor, no leafy walls,
no light blue summer night, no merry peasant maiden in the reality
he gazed upon. He was ashamed and wished to steal away.

But he was already surrounded, besieged. The young ladies crowded
about the shop-boy and cried: "Dance with us; dance with us!"

They wished to learn the polska. They all wished to learn