APOLLO
The _salon_ was a blaze of lights and many shifting colours. The
fantastic crowd that trooped thither from the _salle-à-manger_ was like a
host of tropical flowers. The talking and laughter nearly drowned the
efforts of the string band in the far corner.
Scott in ordinary evening-dress stood near the door talking to an immense
Roman Emperor, looking by contrast even smaller and more insignificant
than usual. Yet a closer observation would have shown that the same
instinctive dignity of bearing characterized them both. Utterly unlike
though they were, yet in this respect it was not difficult to trace their
brotherhood. Though moulded upon lines so completely dissimilar, they
bore the same indelible stamp--the stamp of good birth which can never be
attained by such as have it not. Sir Eustace Studley was the handsomest
man in the room. His imperial costume suited his somewhat arrogant
carriage. He looked like a man born to command. His keen eyes glanced
hither and thither with an eagle-like intensity that missed nothing. He
seemed to be on the watch for someone.
"Who is it?" asked Scott, with a smile. "The lady of the rink?"
The black brows went up haughtily for a moment, then descended in an
answering smile. "She is the only woman I've seen here yet that's worth
looking at," he observed.
"Don't you be too sure of that!" said Scott. "I can show you a little
Italian peasant girl who is well worth your august consideration. I think
you ought to bestow a little favour on her as you have each chosen to
assume the same nationality."
Sir Eustace laughed. "A _protégée_ of yours, eh? That little brown girl,
I suppose? Charming no doubt, my dear fellow; but ordinary--distinctly
ordinary."
"You haven't seen her yet," said Scott. "You had your back to her in the
_salle-à-manger._"
"Where is she then? You had better find her before the beautiful Miss de
Vigne makes her appearance. I don't mind giving her a dance or two, but
you must take her off my hands if we don't get on."
"I will certainly do that," said Scott in his quiet voice that seemed to
veil a touch of irony. "I believe she is in the vestibule now. No, here
she is!"
Dinah, with laughing lips and sparkling eyes, had just ventured to the
door with Billy. "We'll just peep," she said to her brother in the gay
young tones that penetrated so much further than she realized. "But I
shall never dare to dance. Why, I've never even seen the inside of a
ballroom before. And as to dancing with a real live man--" She broke off
as she caught sight of the two brothers standing together near the
entrance.
Eustace turned his restless eyes upon her, gave her a swift, critical
glance and muttered something to Scott.
The latter at once stepped forward, receiving a smile so radiant that
even Eustace was momentarily dazzled. The little brown girl certainly had
points.
"May I introduce my brother?" said Scott. "Sir Eustace Studley--Miss--I
am afraid I don't know your surname."
"Sketchy," murmured Eustace, as he bowed.
But Dinah only laughed her ringing, merry laugh. "Of course you don't
know. How could you? Our name is Bathurst. I'm Dinah and this is Billy. I
am years older than he is, of course." She gave Eustace a shy glance.
"How do you do?"
"She's just thirty," announced Billy, in shrill, cracked tones. "She's
just pretending to be young to-night, but she ain't young really. You
should see her without her warpaint."
The music became somewhat more audible at this point. Eustace bent
slightly, looking down at the girl with eyes that were suddenly soft as
velvet. "They are beginning to dance," he said. "May I have the pleasure?
It's a pity to lose time."
Her red lips smiled delighted assent. She laid her hand with a feathery
touch upon the arm he offered. "Oh, how lovely!" she said, and slid into
his hold like a giddy little water-fowl taking to its own beloved
element.
"Well, I'm jiggered!" said Billy. "And she's never danced with a
man--except of course me--before!"
"Live and learn!" said Scott.
He watched the couple go up the great room, and he saw that, as he had
suspected, Dinah was an exquisite dancer. Her whole being was merged in
movement. She was as an instrument in the hand of a skilled player.
Sir Eustace Studley was an excellent dancer too, though he did not
often trouble himself to dance as perfectly as he was dancing now. It
was not often that he had a partner worthy of his best, and it was a
semi-conscious habit of his never voluntarily to give better than he
received.
But this little gipsy-girl of Scott's discovery called forth all his
talent. She did not want to talk. She only wanted to dance, to spend
herself in a passion of dancing that was an ecstasy beyond all speech.
She was as sensitive as a harp-string to his touch; she was music, she
was poetry, she was charm. The witchery of her began to possess him. Her
instant response to his mood, her almost uncanny interpretation thereof,
became like a spell to his senses. From wonder he passed to delight, and
from delight to an almost feverish desire for more. He swayed her to his
will with a well-nigh savage exultation, and she gave herself up to it so
completely, so freely, so unerringly, that it was as if her very
individuality had melted in some subtle fashion and become part of his.
And to the man there came a moment of sheer intoxication, as though he
drank and drank of a sparkling, inspiriting wine that lured him, that
thrilled him, that enslaved him.
It was just when the sensation had reached its height that the music
suddenly quickened for the finish. That brought him very effectually to
earth. He ceased to dance and led her aside.
She turned her bright face to him for a moment, in her eyes the dazed,
incredulous look of one awaking from an enthralling dream. "Oh, can't we
dance it out?" she said, as if she pleaded against being aroused.
He shook his head. "I never dance to a finish. It's too much like the
clown's turn after the transformation scene. It is bathos on the top of
the superb. At least it would be in this case. Who in wonder taught you
to dance like that?"
Dinah opened her eyes a little wider and gave him the Homage of shy
admiration; but she met a look in return that amazed her, that sent the
blood in a wild unreasoning race to her heart. For those eyes of burning,
ardent blue had suddenly told her something, something that no eyes had
ever told her before. It was incredible but true. Homage had met homage,
aye, and more than homage. There was mastery in his look; but there was
also wonder and a curious species of half-grudging reverence. She had
amazed him, this witch with the sparkling eyes that shone so alluringly
under the scarlet kerchief. She had swept him as it were with a fan of
flame. She had made him live. And he had pronounced her ordinary!
"I have always loved to dance," she said in answer to his almost
involuntary question. "Do you like my dancing? I'm so glad."
"Like it!" He laughed with an odd shamefacedness. "I could dance with you
the whole evening. But I should probably end by making a fool of myself
like a man who has had too much champagne."
Dinah laughed. She had an exhilarating sense of having achieved a
conquest undreamed of. She also was feeling a little giddy, a little
uncertain of the ground under her feet.
"Do you know," she said, dropping her eyes instinctively before the fiery
intensity of his, "I've never danced with a man before? I--I was a little
afraid just at first lest you should find me--gawky."
"Ye gods!" said Sir Eustace. "And you have really never danced with a man
before! Tell me! How did you like it?"
"It was--heavenly!" said Dinah, drawing a deep breath.
"Will you dance with me again?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes."
"The very next dance?"
She nodded again. "Yes."
"And again after that?" said Sir Eustace.
She threw him a glance half-shy, half-daring. "Don't you think it might
be too much for you?"
He laughed. "I'll risk it if you will."
She turned towards him with a small, confidential gesture. "What about
Rose de Vigne?" she said. "Don't you want to dance with her?"
"Oh, presently," he said. "She'll keep."
Dinah broke into her high, sweet laugh. "And what about--all my other
partners?" she said, with more assurance.
He bent to her. "They must keep too. Seriously, you don't want to dance
with any other fellow, do you?"
"I'm not a bit serious," said Dinah.
"Do you?" he insisted.
She lifted her eyes momentarily.
"You don't?" he insinuated.
She surrendered without conditions. "Of course I don't."
"Then you mustn't," he said. "Consider yourself booked to me for
to-night, and when you're not dancing with me, you can rest. Sit out with
Scott if you like! Will you do that?"
"Why?" whispered Dinah.
Again her heart was beating very fast; she wondered why.
He answered her with an impetuosity that seemed to carry her along with
it. "Because your dancing is superb, magnificent, and I want to keep it
for myself. It may not be the same when you've danced with another man. A
flower fresh plucked is always sweeter than one that someone else has
worn."
Dinah's hands clasped each other unconsciously. She had never dreamed
that Apollo could so stoop to favour her.
"I will do as you like," she murmured after a moment. "But I don't
suppose for an instant that anyone else would want to dance with me. I
don't know anyone else."
He smiled. "I'm glad of that. It would be sheer sacrilege for you to
dance with a young oaf who didn't know how. It's a bargain then. I'll
give you all I can. You mustn't tell, of course."
"Oh, I won't tell," laughed Dinah.
He gave her his arm. "They are tuning up. We won't lose a minute. I
always like a clear floor, before the rabble begin."
He led her to the top of the room, stood for a moment; then, as the music
began, caught her to him, and they floated once more into the shining,
enchanted mazes of their dreamland.
And Dinah danced as one inspired, for it seemed to her that her feet
moved upon air as though winged. Apollo had drawn her up to Olympus, and
she drifted in his arm in spheres unknown, far above the clouds.