came together, the hues of the silken skirts blending in one vivid blaze of barbaric splendour. Then, as another movement succeeded, the eighteen figures broke apart and, poised upon their toes, in stately and measured unison circled round the floor, their arms rising and falling, their bodies bending and swaying, in dreamy undulation.
The dance epitomised the poetry and grace of human motion. The dainty attitudes of the performers had a gentle delicacy which was delightful. The long silken robes revealed a singular grace of deportment, and one looked upon dancers who were clothed from head to foot, not naked, brazen and unashamed, like those of our own burlesque, with infinite relief and infinite satisfaction. There was power and purpose in their movements; artistic subtlety in their poses. Their flowing robes emphasised the simplicity of their gestures; the pallor of their faces was unconcealed; their glances were timid; their manner modest. The strange eerie notes of the curious instruments, the fluctuating cadence of the song, the gliding motion of the dancers, the dazzling sheen of the silks, the vivid colours of the skirts, the flush of flesh beneath the silken shoulder-coats, appealed to one silently and signally, stirring the emotions with an enthusiasm which was irrepressible.
The fascinating figures approached softly, smoothly sliding; and, as they glided slowly forward, the song of the music welled into passionate lamentation. The character of the dance changed. No longer advancing, the dancers moved in time to the beating of the drums; rotating circles of colour, their arms swaying, their bodies swinging backwards and forwards, as their retreating footsteps took them from us. The little figures seemed unconscious of their art; the musicians ignorant of the qualities of their wailing.
