The Lamp of Fate

her-one, Michael Quarrington, a lion in the artistic world, and the other, Antoine Davilof, w

e had expressed-in her usual autocratic manner-a wish that he should be presented to her, and ha

hat Quarrington was leaving England and h

ry day before the one you want h

his objections aside w

here and go to the show with us afterwards. He'll cross the day a

rived artist and the soon-to-arrive musician, we

enty years, she retained as much original Eve in her comp

the unruly kink in it which reminded her of a certain other young man-who had been young when she was young-and to whom she had bade farewell at her parents' inflexi

It showed good sense-and it offered provocative oppor

aughter dance, Mr. Quar

everal

committal and she

ncing, do you?"

rded her with a

? How can you as

d supremely detac

s dancing the loveliest thing I h

n vouchsafed

quite as much as I used to enjoy being to

rejoined Quarrin

parkled. She loved a n

ity to waste your pretty speec

ravely. "I reserve them for the

to Davilof, she drew him into the con

e hall preparatory to departure, she flashed

my god-daughter's rescue i

ey eyes reve

be some little use,

arded it as a privilege,"

grey eyes. Davilof was standing a few paces away, being helped int

here was astonishment-rese

. She hands you out an unadorned slice of fact and leaves you to interpret it as you choose. But if you know her rather well-as I do-an

impish amusement as sh

se you want to hear your own music-even i

her his arm d

e asked. "There is no more be

job of accompanist? Shoes beginnin

est musician in Europe, instead of being merely Antoine Davilof, it co

he pavement, her foot on

s her now? She was playing for her at the

n't tell y

breath in asking you. I asked her, and she

d the lips above th

. Undoubtedly I playe

mp her keen old eyes met his significantly. "Or-very imprudent, Davilof. You need th

d for diplomacy, and a man can only

ably the source of your inspirations," reto

nd very little altered from the Virginie of ten years before. Just as she had devoted herself to Diane, so now she devoted herself to Diane's daughter, and no first performance of a new dance of the Wielitzska's took place wi

Frenchwoman. "And pull your chair forward. You'll see not

oice was fervent with ecstatic gratitude as she resumed

self, preceded the chief event of the evening. But at last the next item on the programme read as The Swan-Maiden (adapted from a

in an attitude of tranquil repose, lay the Swan-Maiden-Magda. One white, naked arm was curved behind her head, pillowing it, the other lay lightly across her body, palm upward, w

t to her in the box, heard the quick intake

look," she observed. "Reminds

iously no idea as to who it was who had posed for the Titania of the picture. That was one of the "slices of fact" which Magda h

ike," he agre

ki, the lovelorn youth of the legend

orious symmetry of body, and the pas de deux between him and Magda was a thing to marvel at-sweeping through the whole gamut

ers of notes, and the hunched figure of Ritmagar approaching menaced the lovers. A wild dance followed, the lovers now kneeling and beseeching the evil fairy to have pi

with the inevitableness o

tage is empty save for a pure white swan which sails slowly down the lake and disappears. . . . Followed a solo dance by Ravinski in which he gave full vent to the anguish of the bereft lover, while now and again the swan swam statelily by him. At length the wi

heir exit, Ritmagar was seen gleefully watching while the red sun dr

iumph, and all at once the great concourse of people in the auditorium seemed to strain forward, cons

ly toe-dancing-and toe-dancing of the most perfectly finished quality-seems able to convey. It was as though her feet were not touching the solid earth at all. The feather-light drifting of blown petals;

Ritmagar for mercy, praying that she might not die even though the sun had set. . . . But there comes no answer to her prayers. A sombre note of stern denial sounds in the music, and the Swan-Maiden yields to utter despair, drooping slo

her lover as he knelt beside her, and after a breathless pause, the great audience, carried away by the tragic drama of

had been handed up on to the stage. But the audience refused to be satisfied until at last Magda appeared alone, stand

a little disarming gesture of appeal, touching in its absolute simplicity. It was as though she said: "D

then, as the curtains fell together once more and the orchestra slid

ned and spoke to Davilo

to come. Mademoiselle Wielitzska is very wonderful. As

s voice, as if he were forcibly repre

anced at h

so?" he s

enched on the back of the chair from which he had just risen; the

ngton

't y

that the other was struggling in the grip of some strong emotion.

a soulless piece of devil's mechanism." And turning abrup

in love-hopelessly in love with the Wielitzska. Probably she had turned him down, as she had turned down better men than he, but he had been unable

at the Imperial Theatre, drawn thither by the magnetism of a white, slender woman with night-

of sea and land as he could betwixt himself and the "kind of woman he had no place for," fate had played him a trick and sent her out of the obscurity o

at the state of Davilof's feelings, and was ironi

arp voice cut acro

licking at her programme. "Mrs. Grey and I are

politely excusing himself. Instead

oiselle Wielitzska won'

abella

you'll be quits." She glanced impatiently round the box. "Whe

ughed invo

ncy," he replied. "Anyway, h

kind of humorous compassion. "He ha

Mrs. Grey," answered Michael, as they bo

at him in

derstands other people's

know?" she a

down the corridor, and for the mom

your work is sincere, you find when you've finished a portrait

an no

us for expressing just what a man or woman is re

mply. "It comes-it reveals it

always paint

lau

possessed of about as much soul as would cover a threepenny-bit, and when I'd finished her portrait she simply turned and rent

o her nurseling the moment the dance was at an end, opened the door in response to

rception," she said quietly. "It

sking something of him-entreating. But before he could

s' sake shut the door. There's dra

y, and silently Quarrington fo