attended a state ball. There he had seen the most
dignified beauties of Europe dance at the most for-
mal of its courts. But Concha created the illusion
of having stepped down from the throne in some
bygone fashion to dance alone for her subjects and
adorers.

She raised her arms, barely budding at the top,
with a gesture that was not only the poetry of
grace but as though bestowing some royal favor;
when she curved and swayed her body, again it was
with the lofty sweetness of one too highly placed
to descend to mere seductiveness. She glided up and
down, back and forth, with a dreamy revealing mo-
tion as if assisting to shape some vague impas-
sioned image in the brain of a poet. She lifted her
little feet in a manner that transformed boards into
clouds. There were moments when she seemed
actually to soar.

"She is a little genius!" thought Rezanov en-
thusiastically. "Anything could be made of a
woman like that."

It was not her dancing alone that interested him,
but its effect on her audience. The young men had
begun with audible expressions of approval. They
were now shouting and stamping and clapping.
Suddenly, as once more she danced back to the very
center of the room, her bosom heaving, her eyes