>After having been his butt for so long, at last I had a chance of pulling his leg. I proclaimed, with a straight face, “You must take dancing lessons, Adolf!” Dancing immediately became one of his problems. I well remember that our lonely perambulations were no longer punctuated by discussions on “The Theatre” or “Reconstruction of the Danube Bridge,” but were dominated by one subject—dancing.
>As with everything that he couldn’t tackle at once, he indulged in generalisations. “Visualise a crowded ballroom,” he said once to me, “and imagine that you were deaf. You can’t hear the music to which these people are moving, and then take a look at their senseless progress, which leads nowhere. Aren’t these people raving mad?”
>“All this is no good, Adolf,” I replied. “Stefanie is fond of dancing. If you want to conquer her, you will have to dance around just as aimlessly and idiotically as the others.”
>That was all that was needed to set him off raving. “No, no, never!” he screamed at me. “I shall never dance. Do you understand? Stefanie only dances because she is forced to by society on which she unfortunately depends. Once she is my wife, she won’t have the slightest desire to dance.”