her intention of interpreting
the Dance of the Seven Veils herself, and how she had attempted to gain
the co-operation of Maraquita, the ballet mistress of the Opera-Comique,
a plan which she was forced to abandon, owing to some rapidly revolving
wheels of operatic intrigue. So the new Salome went to Mlle. Chasles,
who sixteen years ago was delighting the patrons of the Opera-Comique
with her charming dancing. She it was who, materially assisted by Miss
Garden herself, arranged the dance, dramatically significant in gesture
and step, which the singer performed at the climax of Richard Strauss's
music drama.

Mlle. Chasles's _salle de danse_ I discovered to be a large square room;
the floor had a rake like that of the Opera stage in Paris. There were
footlights, and seats in front of them for spectators. The walls were
hung with curious old prints and engravings of famous dancers, Mlle.
Salle, La Camargo, Taglioni, Carlotta Grisi, and Cerito.

This final rehearsal--before the rehearsals in New York which preceded
her first appearance in the part anywhere at the Manhattan Opera
House--was witnessed by Andre Messager, who intended to mount _Salome_
at the Paris Opera the following season, Mlle. Chasles, an accompanist,
a maid, a hair-dresser, and myself. I noted that Miss Garden's costume
differed in a marked degree from those her predecessors had worn. For
the entrance of Salome she had provided a mantle of bright orange
shimmering stuff, embroidered with startling azure and emerald flowers
and sparkling with spangles. Under this she wore a close-fitting garment
of netted gold, with designs in rubies and rhinestones, which fell from
somewhere above the waistline to her ankles. This garment was also
removed for the dance, and Miss Garden emerged in a narrow strip of
flesh-coloured tulle. Her arms, shoulders, and legs were bare. She wore
a red wig, the hair falling nearly to her waist (later she changed this
detail and wore the cropped wig which became identified with her
impersonation of the part). Two jewels, an emerald on one little finger,
a ruby on the other, completed her decoration. The seven veils were of
soft, clinging tulle.

Swathed in these veils, she began the dance at the back of the small
stage. Only her eyes were visible. Terrible, slow ... she undulated
forward, swaying gracefully, and dropped the first veil. What followed
was supposed to be the undoing of the jaded Herod. I was moved by this
spectacle a