夜会の灯も暮れた頃、ようやく彼女は現れた。
艶やかな髪、蕾のような唇、透けるように白い肌。 その様は絵画の如し。 我が国において異質なれど、静かに佇む大輪の華。

誰もが息を呑む中で、 ぽつりと空気を読めない青年がひとり。

「でもアレ、背がちょっと高すぎない？ 　ボクの趣味じゃないんだよねぇ」

その青年がどのような目にあったのか、 夜会に訪れた紳士たちはしたり顔のまま、 黙して語らなかったという。

As the light of the ball was about to be extinguished, she finally arrives. Lustrous hair, lips pouted like a bud, and pale skin that is almost translucent. She is like a painting come to life. She may be foreign in our country, but she is a fully bloomed flower that stands silently, proudly.

While everyone else holds their breath, a young seaweed-haired man who cannot read the room shouts:

"Don't you think she's too tall? She's totally not my type."

What was the fate of the young man? The other gentlemen who attended the ball all had satisfied looks on their faces, and never spoke of the situation ever again.