She smiled faintly as she met the fixed gaze of Hamilton’s eyes across the footlights—­such an innocent, merry little smile it seemed, not the mechanical contortions one buys with pieces of silver.  Hamilton’s blood seemed to catch light at it and flame all over his body.  He sat upright in his seat:  gone were his fatigue, his thirst, his eye-ache.  His frame felt no more discomfort:  his whole soul rushed to his eyes, and sat there watching.  In some men their physical constitution is so closely knitted to the mental, that the slightest shock to either instantly vibrates through the other and works its effect equally on both.  Hamilton was of this order, and his body responded, instantly now, to the joy and interest born suddenly in his mind.

A moment after the curtain was rolled up, a huge negro, dressed in a fancy dress of scarlet, and with a high cap of the same colour on his head, came on from the side.  In his hand he carried a small dog-whip, and as he cracked it all the girls stood up.  Hamilton sickened as he looked at him:  an indefinable feeling of horror came over him as this man stalked about the stage.  He pointed with his whip to the two African girls at the end of the semicircle, and they came forward, while the rest sat down.  A horrid uneasy feeling of discomfort grew up in Hamilton, similar to that which a lover of animals feels, when called upon to witness performing dogs, and all the fear and anxiety pent up in their fast-beating little hearts is communicated to himself.  He watched the girls’ faces keenly as the negro went round and placed himself behind the middle chair of the semicircle, while the two Africans danced.  Hamilton hardly noticed their dance, a curious barbaric performance that would have been alarming to the British matron, but was neither new nor interesting to Hamilton.  He kept his eyes fixed on the white-clothed girl in the centre, and the sinister figure behind her chair.  She seemed calm and indifferent, and when the negro put his hand on her shoulder looked up and listened to his words without fear or repulsion.  Hamilton, keenly alive, with every sense alert, sat in his chair, a prey to the new and delightful feeling, not known for years, of interest.

Yes, he was interested, and the energetic sense of loathing for the negro proved it.  The music, loud and strident—­an ordinary Italian piano-organ having been introduced amongst the Oriental instruments—­banged on, and then abruptly came to a stop when the negro cracked his whip.  The two African women resumed their chairs, there was some applause, and a good many small coins fell on the stage from the hands of the audience.  The second pair of girls rose, came forward and commenced to dance, the organ playing some appropriate Spanish airs.  After these, the two Indian girls who gave the usual dance de ventre to a lively Italian air on the organ.  Then, at last, she rose from her chair and approached the footlights.  The organ ceased playing, only the Indian music continued:  wild sensual music, imitating at intervals the cries of passion.