"How long ago is it since we danced in Egypt--a fortnight, or more? You
move well, but you don't know anything about dancing," he went on.
"Dancing is either a ridiculous jumping about of fools, who have no
more understanding of its meaning than a parcel of marionettes. Or it
is an expression of some sort of emotion. The Greeks understood that in
their Orchiesis, each feeling had its corresponding movement. For me it
means a number of things. When a woman is slender and pliant and smooth
of step, and if she pleases me otherwise, then it is not waste of
time!--Tonight I shall probably get drunk again," and he flicked the
ash off his cigarette with his little finger; and even though Tamara
was again annoyed with him, she could not help noticing that his hands
were fine and strong.

"But you were not drunk on the ship--you could not even plead that,"
she said, almost shocked at herself for speaking of anything so
horrible.

"It is the same thing. I feel a mad supercharge of life--an
intoxication of the senses, perhaps. It has only one advantage over the
champagne result. I am steady on my feet, and my voice is not thick!"

Tamara did not speak.

"I wonder what this music we shall hear will say to you. Will it make
the milk and water you call blood in your veins race?--it will amuse me
to see."

"I am not made for your amusement, Prince. How dare you always treat me
as you do?" And Tamara drew herself up haughtily. "And if my veins