Marriage and dancing

Well, one of my favorite books is Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey if only for the wit of her hero, one Henry Tilney by name. This is taken from said book, Chapter 10.


[The obnoxious John Thorpe has been obtruding himself on Catherine Morland as she is starting to dance with the much more enticing Henry Tilney:]...This was the last sentence by which he [Thorpe] could weary Catherine's attention, for he was just then borne off by the resistless pressure of a long string of passing ladies.
Her partner [Henry Tilney] now drew near, and said,
"That gentleman would have put me out of patience, had he stayed with you half a minute longer. He has no business to withdraw the attention of my partner from me. We have entered into a contract of mutual agreeableness for the space of an evening, and all our agreeableness belongs solely to each other for that time. Nobody can fasten themselves on the notice of one, without injuring the rights of the other. I consider a country-dance as an emblem of marriage. Fidelity and complaisance are the principal duties of both; and those men who do not choose to dance or marry themselves, have no business with the partners or wives of their neighbours."
[Catherine Morland:]
"But they are such very different things! --"
[Henry Tilney:]
"-- That you think they cannot be compared together."
[Catherine Morland:]
"To be sure not. People that marry can never part, but must go and keep house together. People that dance only stand opposite each other in a long room for half an hour."
[Henry Tilney:]
"And such is your definition of matrimony and dancing. Taken in that light certainly, their resemblance is not striking; but I think I could place them in such a view. -- You will allow, that in both, man has the advantage of choice, woman only the power of refusal; that in both, it is an engagement between man and woman, formed for the advantage of each; and that when once entered into, they belong exclusively to each other till the moment of its dissolution; that it is their duty, each to endeavour to give the other no cause for wishing that he or she had bestowed themselves elsewhere, and their best interest to keep their own imaginations from wandering towards the perfections of their neighbours, or fancying that they should have been better off with anyone else. You will allow all this?"
[Catherine Morland:]
"Yes, to be sure, as you state it, all this sounds very well; but still they are so very different. -- I cannot look upon them at all in the same light, nor think the same duties belong to them."
[Henry Tilney:]
"In one respect, there certainly is a difference. In marriage, the man is supposed to provide for the support of the woman, the woman to make the home agreeable to the man; he is to purvey, and she is to smile. But in dancing, their duties are exactly changed; the agreeableness, the compliance are expected from him, while she furnishes the fan and the lavender water. That, I suppose, was the difference of duties which struck you, as rendering the conditions incapable of comparison."
[Catherine Morland:]
"No, indeed, I never thought of that."
[Henry Tilney:]
"Then I am quite at a loss. One thing, however, I must observe. This disposition on your side is rather alarming. You totally disallow any similarity in the obligations; and may I not thence infer that your notions of the duties of the dancing state are not so strict as your partner might wish? Have I not reason to fear that if the gentleman who spoke to you just now were to return, or if any other gentleman were to address you, there would be nothing to restrain you from conversing with him as long as you chose?"
[Catherine Morland:]
"Mr. Thorpe is such a very particular friend of my brother's, that if he talks to me, I must talk to him again; but there are hardly three young men in the room besides him that I have any acquaintance with."
[Henry Tilney:]
"And is that to be my only security? alas, alas!"
[Catherine Morland:]
"Nay, I am sure you cannot have a better; for if I do not know any body, it is impossible for me to talk to them; and, besides, I do not want to talk to any body."
[Henry Tilney:]
"Now you have given me a security worth having; and I shall proceed with courage."