With the permission of the captain, the gipsy troupe were brought, and
began their performance, tame enough at the commencement until the
Prince gave orders for them to be supplied with unlimited champagne,
and then the wildest dancing began. They writhed and gesticulated and
undulated in a manner which made Millicent cling on to her chair, grow
crimson in the face, and finally start to her feet.

But the worst happened when the Prince rose and, taking a tambourine,
began, with a weird shriek, to beat it wildly, his eyes ablaze and his
lips apart.

Then, seizing the chief dancer and banging it upon her head, he held
his arm about her heaving breast, as she turned to him with a
serpentine movement of voluptuous delight.

In a second he had caught hold of her, and had lifted and swung her far
out over the dark blue waters, then, with a swirl to the side, held her
suspended in the air above the open deck below.

"Ha, ha!" yelled the troupe, in frenzied pleasure, and, nimble as a
cat, one rough dark man rushed down the ladder and caught the hanging
woman in his arms. Then they all clapped and cheered and shrieked with
joy, while the Prince, putting his hands in his pockets, pulled out
heaps of gold and flung it among them.

"Back to hell, rats!" he shouted, laughing. "See, you have frightened
the ladies. You should all be killed!"

For Tamara and Millicent had risen, and with stately steps had quitted
the scene.