everybody sat up straight and listened to the volume of swelling sounds
which filled the court and garden and floated away on the night. There
was no mistaking the fact, they were in the presence of an artist.

"I await thee, Beloved, in the hills, in the hour of our tryst!" came
the far-away answer of the woman's voice, faint and plaintive as an
echo, soft and sweet and clear as the notes of the skylark, falling in
silvery, rippling cadences of melody from out the gold, blue vault of
heaven above.

"Nearer and nearer love guideth our steps,
On the hills we shall dance, chant our song of
Delight 'neath the silvery stars and the
Mellow gold horn of the soft shining moon.

"'Neath the silvery stars, and the mellow gold horn of the soft shining
moon," echoed the musical refrain and chorus of musicians. Nearer and
nearer drew the answering echoes of the lovers' voices until they met in
the hills and the dancing began.

So realistic and dramatic was her rendering of the song, that the
listeners saw the progress of the lovers and felt the thrill and rapture
of their meeting. Up to this point she had held herself in abeyance, but
with the opening bars of the dance, she suddenly became transformed,
electrified. Her whole being became suffused with the vibrant,
passionate intensity of the South, and then they witnessed an exhibition
that was beautiful and wonderful in its poetic conception.

A thrill of rapturous, exquisite emotion swept over them, as suddenly
and without warning, she threw back her head and sprang to the center of
the rug with a swift, whirling motion, the effect of which was like a
shower of sparks or a jet of glittering spray tossed unexpectedly into
the air from a fountain, expressive of the abandon and exuberance felt
by the lovers as they met in the dance.

Again, without warning, she paused as abruptly as she began, and with
short, interluding snatches of song, slowly began to sway to the soft
rhythm of the music and sharp click of her castanets. First slowly, then
swifter and swifter she glided and whirled noiselessly in the
moonlight, graceful as a wind-blown rose, or suddenly paused, languid
and sensuous, according to the rhapsodic character of the dance when the
music ceased altogether and naught was heard save the plashing of the
fountain in the _patio_, the click of her castanets and the soft swish
of her silken _saya_ which seemed to whisper and sigh like a living
thing, like