CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
A PAS-SEUL.
Wide the breach now between Vaga Powell and Eustace Trevor, growingwider as the moments passed. Though the evolutions of the dance oftenbrought them near one another, no more speech exchanged they that night;nor glances either. If by chance their eyes met there was a retirementon both sides, quick and subtle, as though each felt caught in somecriminal act. For all they were mutually observant, and when only onelooked, the other unconscious, it was with gaze continued, regardtelling the tale of love and jealousy plainer and truer than couldwords.
What had caused the rupture was still there to hinder its healing--onone side Clarisse, practising all her arts and seductions; on the otherReginald 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 similitudeotherwise. Equally vain, Creole girl as Cavalier, they had grandreliance in their respective powers, each over the opposite sex. Thoughno Adonis, Reginald Trevor was a fairly handsome man--of the martialtype, whom many a woman would have fancied, as many had. So favoured,and conscious of it, not so strange his restored confidence that hestill possessed the affections of Vaga Powell. He had entertained thisbelief, 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 toher. For the antecedent circumstances between Eustace Trevor and hercousin 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 toldalso of his sudden conversion there, and half suspected the cause. Butshe had herself observed nothing to confirm her suspicions. He had beenseveral times on visit to Montserrat House, but always in the company ofhis colonel, Sir Richard; and while there his interviews with Vaga wereunder her own eyes and others. They might have met outside without herhaving knowledge of it. But it was in truth the brilliant beauty of hercountry cousin, which more than aught else troubled and had given riseto her jealousy. Still what was it to her own, with her powers offascination? Nothing that night, thought she; and thus confident inherself, she noticed not the strange distraught air of her partner, asnow and then his eyes turned furtively to the partner of his cousin.
Thus unobservant, the two who cared not for one another danced joyouslyon little dreaming of that mad jealousy between the other two, but forwhich there would have been a quick change in the arrangement of thecouples.
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"What next? What now?"
The questions passing from lip to lip, late on in the night, and afteranother _contredanse_ had come to a close. A whisper had got wing ofsomething to succeed, altogether different--a dance of a specialcharacter, introduced to the Bristolians by the daughter of MadameLalande.
In those days, the era of the morris and other picturesque dances,excellence in the Coryphean art was esteemed a qualification; notlightly held as now, and deemed rather degrading. The French Queen hadencouraged this, and noble dames oft vied with each other in saltatorydisplays.
To show her superiority, Clarisse Lalande had prepared a surprise forthe assembly at Montserrat House--a dance of the Antilles, in which shecould have no competitor, nor need fear any if she had. It was also ofSpanish origin, much practised in the West India islands; where, then asnow, dancing was a thing of every night, and often of the day--even thenegroes giving half their off-labour hours to it, jigging with a graceunknown to the peasantry of European lands. Their white "massas" were,many of them, perfect _maitres-de-danse_, and their young mistressesvery Odalisques. Monsieur Lalande had prided himself on thisaccomplishment, 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 theexcitement which comes of the wine cup would make it more attractive inthe eyes of the spectators; though Clarisse Lalande was thinking of onlyone of them, and how it would affect him.
It was new to most of the people present, but not all. The familiars ofMontserrat House had witnessed it before, and were aware of itspeculiarities. A _pas-seul_ it was, danced only by a lady, though agentleman had something to do with it at the termination. The ladycommences in slow movement and gentle step, accompanied by pantomimicgestures; as she passes on every now and then stooping down, or reachingupward, to take hold of some object that has caught her eye. It is, infact, a representation, in dumb show, of an Indian girl straying along aforest path in the act of gathering flowers. Nor does she pause whileplucking them, only poising an instant on one limb, and, with a whirl,or _pirouette_, continuing onward. The step admits of many changes andevery variety of attitude; according to whether the blossoms temptingher be on the right or left, down upon the earth, or overhead among thebranches of the trees. All which affords fine opportunity fordisplaying the graces of figure and movement, with skill or clevernessin 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, andlistens. At first interrogatively; then with apprehension, ending inalarm. Flight follows, the lines of if hither and thither in irregularzigzags, as if the affrighted girl, in her confusion, knows not whichway to go. The movement is now violent, the gesticulation excited. Atlength the retreat takes a steadier course, around the outer edge of thearena, not by forward steps, but the whirling gyrations of a waltz.This being kept up for a turn or two, fatigue is counterfeited, withcontinued fear of the pursuing enemy, and by looks and gestures appealis made to the spectators for help. These know, however, that only oneis privileged to offer it--he whom she will designate by tossing to hima riband, kerchief, glove, or some such token. His _role_, then, issimply 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, theturf,--for it was outside in the place already described,--there werefew knowing the character of the novel dance but could give a guess asto who would be summoned to the rescue. Too soon to be thinking of thatyet, however; all thoughts being engrossed by the Creole herself, alleyes fixed upon her, as she appeared in the open space, around which thespectators were now standing two deep. The whole company was there; theother dancing places, inside and out, for the time deserted.
It was seen that she had changed her dress--this done during theinterlude of supper--and was now in the costume of a Carib queen, shortskirt and low boddice. Robes rather gauzy and transparent; at whichsome present were not slow to speak disapprovingly. But these were inthe minority; the wonderful beauty of the girl, with a knowledge thather ways and bringing up had not been as theirs, made the majority largeand something more than lenient. And when she became engaged in theinnocent occupation of flower-gathering, like a brilliant butterflyflitting from one to another, satire was silent; even the mostPuritanical seeming to forget all about the thinness and scantiness ofher attire.
Then came the start, the listening attitude, the affectation of alarm,followed by the confused flight; in grand _voltes_ in side-bounds, as anantelope surprised by a panther. At length the circling retreat, roundand round the ring of spectators, at first in a rapid whirl, tillfeigning 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 therecipient of the favour would soon be declared. It often means nothingbeyond mere compliment; and as oft for delicate reasons, the favouredone is not the one wished for. But no such influences were likely toaffect the present case, and the _denouement_ was looked for with a rareintensity of interest.
The girl had drawn off one of her jewelled gloves--in those days theywere so adorned--and h
eld it with arm astretch, ready to be flung.Still, she went undulating on, at each turn of her face toward thespectators seeming to search among them. Many a one had wishes, andmore than one a hope of seeing that glove tossed to him. For ClarisseLalande had a large following of lovers. All save one to sufferdisappointment, with more or less chagrin. And yet giving nogratification to him at whose feet it eventually fell, as the wise onesknew it would--Eustace Trevor.
With less show of alacrity than resignation he took it up; this anexigency of the performance. After which, with open arms, he receivedthe exhausted _danseuse_, her breasts heaving and panting as though theywould burst the silken corset that so slightly confined them.
Cold-blooded man he, many might have thought him. But had other breastsbeen thus near his own, another heart beating so close to his, he wouldhave shown warmth enough.