Summer 1888 — Private Ball
When he first caught sight of Mrs. Yaxley across the ballroom he started something of a mental countdown in his head. How soon was too soon to approach her? Obviously if he rushed the entrance the moment she arrived someone would notice and speak of it, and while during their first meeting he had been ambivalent to rumors that might start he felt more hesitant about the idea now. On their first interaction he'd thought rumors might prod her husband into showing up to some of these events and showing her off, being more affectionate in an attempt to stave them off. They still might, and it still might turn out well for her, but Don Juan was less certain that he wanted that now. They'd interacted in some depth on a handful of occasions since meeting, and he enjoyed her company; it would have been a detriment to him to have it unceremoniously cut off by a jealous husband.
On the other hand, he'd been hoping to see her all week, so it was difficult to hold back too long. The last time they'd talked at a party he'd goaded her into teaching him a few words of German, and then on a whim after the event he'd dropped into a bookstore and bought a German phrasebook. He was eager to show off his progress. He'd attacked the book with the fervor he often had for new whims and hobbies, but hadn't the opportunity to practice with anyone, which left him with — he presumed, anyway — a wealth of vocabulary and only a rudimentary idea of implementation. But he'd gleaned enough of the grammar from the appendices in the back of the phrasebook that he thought he could string together a sentence or two, and he was — in the manner of a dog who has learned a new trick — keen to be praised for it.
When he judged he had delayed long enough to be respectable, he made his excuses to his current conversation partner and approached her. "Dance with me?" he asked. When she accepted and he'd taken her hand to lead her to the dance floor, he observed, "Mr. Yaxley fehlt nochmal." This was his favorite of the phrases he'd learned in the book, because while its translation was factually accurate — Mr. Yaxley is absent again — to his English ear it sounded like what he really wanted to say: Mr. Yaxley fails you again.
On the other hand, he'd been hoping to see her all week, so it was difficult to hold back too long. The last time they'd talked at a party he'd goaded her into teaching him a few words of German, and then on a whim after the event he'd dropped into a bookstore and bought a German phrasebook. He was eager to show off his progress. He'd attacked the book with the fervor he often had for new whims and hobbies, but hadn't the opportunity to practice with anyone, which left him with — he presumed, anyway — a wealth of vocabulary and only a rudimentary idea of implementation. But he'd gleaned enough of the grammar from the appendices in the back of the phrasebook that he thought he could string together a sentence or two, and he was — in the manner of a dog who has learned a new trick — keen to be praised for it.
When he judged he had delayed long enough to be respectable, he made his excuses to his current conversation partner and approached her. "Dance with me?" he asked. When she accepted and he'd taken her hand to lead her to the dance floor, he observed, "Mr. Yaxley fehlt nochmal." This was his favorite of the phrases he'd learned in the book, because while its translation was factually accurate — Mr. Yaxley is absent again — to his English ear it sounded like what he really wanted to say: Mr. Yaxley fails you again.
![[Image: 0hYxCaj.png]](https://i.imgur.com/0hYxCaj.png)
MJ made this <3