Among the men her name was never spoken but with
reserve and respect, and her afternoon teas were like a little court. She
had no compromising tenderness of manner for man or woman; she ruled, yet
was unapproachable through any avenues of sentiment. She had a quiet
aplomb, which would be called 'sang-froid' in a man.
"Did you ever see a Spanish-Mexican woman dance?" she asked in one of the
pauses of the music.
"Never: never any good dancing, save what one gets at a London theatre."
"That is graceful," she said, "but not dancing. You have heard of music
stirring the blood; of savage races--and others--working themselves up to
ecstatic fury? Maybe you have seen the Dervishes, or the Fijians, or the
Australian aboriginals? No? Well, I have, and I have seen--which is so
much more--those Spanish-Mexican women dance. Did you ever see anything
so thrilling, so splendid, that you felt you must possess it?"--She asked
me that with her hand upon my arm!--"Well, that is it. I have felt that
way towards a horse which has won a great race, and to a woman who has
carried me with her through the fantastic drama of her dance, until she
stood at the climax, head thrown back, face glowing--a statue.
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