Wide the breach now between Vaga Powell and Eustace Trevor, growing
wider as the moments passed. Though the evolutions of the dance often
brought them near one another, no more speech exchanged they that night;
nor glances either. If by chance their eyes met there was a retirement
on both sides, quick and subtle, as though each felt caught in some
criminal act. For all they were mutually observant, and when only one
looked, the other unconscious, it was with gaze continued, regard
telling the tale of love and jealousy plainer and truer than could
words.
What had caused the rupture was still there to hinder its healing--on
one side Clarisse, practising all her arts and seductions; on the other
Reginald doing the same. And both, so far as they themselves believed,
and general appearance might be trusted, with sinister success.
Between these two, aiming at like ends, there was much similitude
otherwise. Equally vain, Creole girl as Cavalier, they had grand
reliance in their respective powers, each over the opposite sex. Though
no Adonis, Reginald Trevor was a fairly handsome man--of the martial
type, whom many a woman would have fancied, as many had. So favoured,
and conscious of it, not so strange his restored confidence that he
still possessed the affections of Vaga Powell. He had entertained this
belief, and then partially lost it, but now it was back with him again,
her behaviour seeming to justify it.
There was less in the past to cloud the hopes of Clarisse--less known to
her. For the antecedent circumstances between Eustace Trevor and her
cousin had as yet been revealed to her only in a scant desultory way.
She had heard of his having spent some days at Hollymead; had been told
also of his sudden conversion there, and half suspected the cause. But
she had herself observed nothing to confirm her suspicions. He had been
several times on visit to Montserrat House, but always in the company of
his colonel, Sir Richard; and while there his interviews with Vaga were
under her own eyes and others. They might have met outside without her
having knowledge of it. But it was in truth the brilliant beauty of her
country cousin, which more than aught else troubled and had given rise
to her jealousy. Still what was it to her own, with her powers of
fascination? Nothing that night, thought she; and thus confident in
herself, she noticed not the strange distraught air of her partner, as
now and then his eyes turned furtively to the partner of his cousin.
Thus unobservant, the two who cared not for one another danced joyously
on little dreaming of that mad jealousy between the other two, but for
which there would have been a quick change in the arrangement of the
couples.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What next? What now?"
The questions passing from lip to lip, late on in the night, and after
another _contredanse_ had come to a close. A whisper had got wing of
something to succeed, altogether different--a dance of a special
character, introduced to the Bristolians by the daughter of Madame
Lalande.
In those days, the era of the morris and other picturesque dances,
excellence in the Coryphean art was esteemed a qualification; not
lightly held as now, and deemed rather degrading. The French Queen had
encouraged this, and noble dames oft vied with each other in saltatory
displays.
To show her superiority, Clarisse Lalande had prepared a surprise for
the assembly at Montserrat House--a dance of the Antilles, in which she
could have no competitor, nor need fear any if she had. It was also of
Spanish origin, much practised in the West India islands; where, then as
now, dancing was a thing of every night, and often of the day--even the
negroes giving half their off-labour hours to it, jigging with a grace
unknown to the peasantry of European lands. Their white "massas" were,
many of them, perfect _maitres-de-danse_, and their young mistresses
very Odalisques. Monsieur Lalande had prided himself on this
accomplishment, and, as a matter of course, his daughter did the same--
hence the resolve to make display of her proficiency.
The music had been prearranged; the time too--after supper, when the
excitement which comes of the wine cup would make it more attractive in
the eyes of the spectators; though Clarisse Lalande was thinking of only
one of them, and how it would affect him.
It was new to most of the people present, but not all. The familiars of
Montserrat House had witnessed it before, and were aware of its
peculiarities. A _pas-seul_ it was, danced only by a lady, though a
gentleman had something to do with it at the termination. The lady
commences in slow movement and gentle step, accompanied by pantomimic
gestures; as she passes on every now and then stooping down, or reaching
upward, to take hold of some object that has caught her eye. It is, in
fact, a representation, in dumb show, of an Indian girl straying along a
forest path in the act of gathering flowers. Nor does she pause while
plucking them, only poising an instant on one limb, and, with a whirl,
or _pirouette_, continuing onward. The step admits of many changes and
every variety of attitude; according to whether the blossoms tempting
her be on the right or left, down upon the earth, or overhead among the
branches of the trees. All which affords fine opportunity for
displaying the graces of figure and movement, with skill or cleverness
in the pantomimic representation. After this has gone on for a time,
the flower gatherer is seen to start, her features changing expression.
Some sound in the forest has caught her ear. She pauses, bends low, and
listens. At first interrogatively; then with apprehension, ending in
alarm. Flight follows, the lines of if hither and thither in irregular
zigzags, as if the affrighted girl, in her confusion, knows not which
way to go. The movement is now violent, the gesticulation excited. At
length the retreat takes a steadier course, around the outer edge of the
arena, not by forward steps, but the whirling gyrations of a waltz.
This being kept up for a turn or two, fatigue is counterfeited, with
continued fear of the pursuing enemy, and by looks and gestures appeal
is made to the spectators for help. These know, however, that only one
is privileged to offer it--he whom she will designate by tossing to him
a riband, kerchief, glove, or some such token. His _role_, then, is
simply to step forth and place himself in the attitude of a rescuer,
when the fugitive flings herself into his arms, looking all gratitude.
When Clarisse Lalande took the floor, or, to speak more correctly, the
turf,--for it was outside in the place already described,--there were
few knowing the character of the novel dance but could give a guess as
to who would be summoned to the rescue. Too soon to be thinking of that
yet, however; all thoughts being engrossed by the Creole herself, all
eyes fixed upon her, as she appeared in the open space, around which the
spectators were now standing two deep. The whole company was there; the
other dancing places, inside and out, for the time deserted.
It was seen that she had changed her dress--this done during the
interlude of supper--and was now in the costume of a Carib queen, short
skirt and low boddice. Robes rather gauzy and transparent; at which
some present were not slow to speak disapprovingly. But these were in
the minority; the wonderful beauty of the girl, with a knowledge that
her ways and bringing up had not been as theirs, made the majority large
and something more than lenient. And when she became engaged in the
innocent occupation of flower-gathering, like a brilliant butterfly
flitting from one to another, satire was silent; even the most
Puritanical seeming to forget all about the thinness and scantiness of
her attire.
Then came the start, the listening attitude, the affectation of alarm,
followed by the confused flight; in grand _voltes_ in side-bounds, as an
antelope surprised by a panther. At length the circling retreat, round
and round the ring of spectators, at first in a rapid whirl, till
feigning exhaustion, her movements gradually became slower and feebler,
as though she would drop to the earth.
Every eye was now on the alert; they knew the _finale_ was near, and the
recipient of the favour would soon be declared. It often means nothing
beyond mere compliment; and as oft for delicate reasons, the favoured
one is not the one wished for. But no such influences were likely to
affect the present case, and the _denouement_ was looked for with a rare
intensity of interest.
The girl had drawn off one of her jewelled gloves--in those days they
were so adorned--and held it with arm astretch, ready to be flung.
Still, she went undulating on, at each turn of her face toward the
spectators seeming to search among them. Many a one had wishes, and
more than one a hope of seeing that glove tossed to him. For Clarisse
Lalande had a large following of lovers. All save one to suffer
disappointment, with more or less chagrin. And yet giving no
gratification to him at whose feet it eventually fell, as the wise ones
knew it would--Eustace Trevor.
With less show of alacrity than resignation he took it up; this an
exigency of the performance. After which, with open arms, he received
the exhausted _danseuse_, her breasts heaving and panting as though they
would burst the silken corset that so slightly confined them.
Cold-blooded man he, many might have thought him. But had other breasts
been thus near his own, another heart beating so close to his, he would
have shown warmth enough.