A wild pagan abandon claimed her, and she seemed to hear the
wailing of reed instruments and the throb of the ancient drums
which were played of old before the kings of Egypt. Safiyeh was
not a true dancing girl, and because she knew none of those fine
frenzies, she danced without inspiration, like a brown puppet
moved by strings. But she could play upon an a'ood much better
than Zahara, and therefore must not be upset until she had played
for the Dance of the Veils.

Seeing that the bargain was all but concluded, Zahara stole back
to her room. Her lightly clad body gleamed like that of some
statue become animate.

Her cheeks flushed as she took up the veils, of which she alone
knew the symbolic meaning; the white veil, the purple veil: each
had its story to tell her; and the veil of burning scarlet. In a
corner of the big room on a divan near the door she had seen the
Spaniard, a handsome, swarthy figure in his well-fitting dress
clothes, and now, opening a drawer, she glanced at the little
pile of notes which represented her share of the bargain. There
were fifty. She had told Agapoulos that a distinguished
foreigner with an introduction from someone she knew had paid ten
pounds to be present. And because she had given Agapoulos the
ten pounds, Agapoulos had agreed to admit the visitor.

She could hear the Greek approaching now, but she was thinking of
Grantham whom she had last seen in laughing conversation with the
tall, gray-haired man. His laughter had appeared forced.
Doubtless he grew weary of the woman he had brought to London.