“Very well argued, Princess,” said the Doctor.  “I quite agree with you.  Nature is bound to repeat some of her choicest patterns, lest she should forget the art of making them.”

There was now a general movement among the guests, that particular kind of movement which means irritability and restlessness, and implies that either supper must be immediately served, or else some novel entertainment be brought in to distract attention and prevent tedium.  The Princess, turning to Gervase, said smilingly: 

“Apropos of the dancing-girl of Araxes and the art of dancing generally, I am going to entertain the company presently by letting them see a real old dance of Thebes.  If you will excuse me a moment I must just prepare them and get the rooms slightly cleared.  I will return to you presently.”

She glided away with her usual noiseless grace, and within a few minutes of her departure the gay crowds began to fall back against the walls and disperse themselves generally in expectant groups here and there, the Egyptian servants moving in and out and evidently informing them of the entertainment in prospect.

“Well, I shall stay here,” said Dr. Dean, “underneath this remarkable stone carving of your warrior-prototype, Monsieur Gervase.  You seem very much abstracted.  I asked you before if you were not well; but you never answered me.”

“I am perfectly well,” replied Gervase, with some irritation.  “The heat is rather trying, that is all.  But I attach no importance to that stone frieze.  One can easily imagine likenesses where there are really none.”

“True!” and the Doctor smiled to himself, and said no more.  Just then a wild burst of music sounded suddenly through the apartment, and he turned round in lively anticipation to watch the proceedings.

The middle of the room was now quite clear, and presently, moving with the silent grace of swans on still water, came four girls closely veiled, carrying quaintly-shaped harps and lutes.  A Nubian servant followed them, and spread a gold-embroidered carpet upon the ground, whereon they all sat down and began to thrum the strings of their instruments in a muffled, dreamy manner, playing a music which had nothing of melody in it, and which yet vaguely suggested a passionate tune.  This thrumming went on for some time when all at once from a side entrance in the hall a bright, apparently winged thing bounded from the outer darkness into the centre of the hall,—­a woman clad in glistening cloth of gold and veiled entirely in misty folds of white, who, raising her arms gleaming with jewelled bangles high above her head, remained poised on tiptoe for a moment, as though about to fly.  Her bare feet, white and dimpled, sparkled with gems and glittering anklets; her skirts as she moved showed fluttering flecks of white and pink like the leaves of May-blossoms shaken by a summer breeze; the music grew louder and wilder, and a brazen clang from unseen cymbals prepared