This woman had an attractiveness compelling and delightful, at least in
its earlier application to me. Both professionally and socially I have
been brought into contact with women of beauty and grace, but never one
who, like Mrs. Falchion, being beautiful, seemed so unconscious of the
fact, so indifferent to those about her, so untouched by another's
emotion, so lacking in sensitiveness of heart; and who still drew people
to her. I am speaking now of the earlier portion of our acquaintance;
of her as she was up to this period in her life.

I was not alone in this opinion of her, for, as time went on, every
presentable man and woman on the boat was introduced to her; and if some
women criticised and some disliked her, all acknowledged her talent and
her imperial attraction. 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