A Man's Hearth

by Eleanor M. Ingram

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE CABARET DANCER

  It was eleven o'clock when they entered the revolving door of therestaurant appointed, and faced a group of lounging attendants in thelobby; cynical-eyed servitors, all. Tony Adriance was recognized bythese with a vivifying promptness; at once he was surrounded, addressedby name, had officious service pressed upon him. It was strange to thegirl to see him so familiar in this place where she never had been;strange, and a little disquieting. But her grave poise was undisturbed.She left her simple hat and coat with a maid, aware of theirunsuitability for the place and hour.

  They did not enter the crowded room to their right, where an orchestrawas overwhelming all other and lesser din with a crashing one-step.Instead, Anthony turned up a shining marble stair with a plush-cushionedbalustrade and too much gilding. Elsie viewed herself beside him inmirrors set in the wall at regular intervals.

  The stairs ended at an arcaded hall, beyond which lay a long, brilliantroom, comfortably filled with people at supper. Filled, that is,according to its arrangement: the entire central space of gleaming,ice-smooth floor was empty, the tables were ranged around the fourwalls. The guests here wore evening dress, for the most part, so thatthe room glowed with color, delicate, vivid or glaring, as the taste ofthe owner dictated. Here there was comparative quiet; the voices andlaughter were lower in pitch than down-stairs.

  "Is Mr. Masterson here?" Anthony questioned the head waiter, whohastened to meet the arriving couple.

  "Not yet, Mr. Adriance," the man answered deferentially. "At twelve, hecomes. May I show you a table, sir?"

  "Yes. Not too near the music--Mrs. Adriance and I want to hear eachother speak."

  "Certainly, sir. The drum _will_ be loud, sir; but the dancers like it."

  Elsie caught the man's side glance of respectful curiosity and interestdirected toward herself, and understood why Anthony deliberately hadfixed her identity as his wife. Pride warmed her, and love of hisconsideration for her; suddenly she was able to enjoy the scene aroundher. She felt no self-consciousness, even when the elaborately gownedand coifed women glanced over her appraisingly as she passed by theirtables. She looked back at them, serenely sure of herself. She was notat all aware that many of the men stared at her with startled admirationof a visitor alien to this atmosphere. Adriance saw well enough,however. Elsie had an innocent dignity of carriage that, joined with hergravely candid gaze, was not a little imposing. Moreover her pure,bright color and clear eyes were disconcertingly natural beside theartificial beauties. Pride of possession tingled agreeably through him;he had not thought of this or expected the emotion.

  When the two were seated opposite one another, the regard they exchangedwas of glowing content. Adriance ordered supper with the interest ofappetite and with a fine knowledge of her tastes and his own. Then, atease, they smiled at each other. The extravagance of the feast was of nomoment. The utter simplicity of their daily life made Anthony's salarymore than sufficient; they already possessed the resource of a bankaccount.

  So far, there had been no music, except faint echoes from the roombelow. Now a tinkle of strings sounded delicately, swelling from asingle note into a full, minor waltz melody. Turning, Elsie saw themusicians. They were negroes; not a band or an orchestra, merely apianist, two men with mandolins and as many with banjoes, and one whohandled with amazing dexterity a whole set of sound producers; a drum,cymbals, bells, a gong, even an automobile horn. From one to anotherinstrument, as the character of the piece demanded, this performer'shands and feet flew with accuracy and ludicrous speed. But the music wasmore than good, it was unique, inspired; it snared the feet and thesenses. All round sounded the scraping of chairs pushed back, as men andwomen rose to answer the call. In one short moment the place changedfrom a restaurant to a ball-room.

  It was such a ball-room as Elsie Adriance never had glimpsed in eitherher Louisiana or restricted New York experiences. The women werecostumed in the extreme fashions of a year when all fashion was extreme.As the dancers swayed past in the graceful, hesitating steps of the lastnew waltz, there were revelations;--of low-cut draperies, of skirtstransparent to the knees, with ribbon-laced slippers jewelled at heeland buckle glancing through the thin veil of tinted chiffon or lace. Thescene had an Oriental frankness without being blatant or coarse. At thetables there was much drinking of wine and liqueurs, but as yet noapparent intoxication. Some of the women who were not dancing smokedcigarettes as they chatted with their companions; not a few of these hadwhite hair and were obviously matrons, respected and self-respecting.

  "What do you think of it?" Adriance inquired, after watching his wifewith mischief in his eyes.

  "I don't know," she slowly confessed. "You know, I am an outlander. ButI am not so stupid as to misunderstand too badly. These people are--allright?"

  "Yes; most of them. This is the after-theatre crowd. Some are from thestage, some from the audience. That lady in green chiffon who looks asif she had forgotten to put on most of her clothes is the wife of one ofmy father's business associates. Did you see her husband bow to us as wecame in? The little black-eyed girl in the black velvet walking-suit, atthe next table, is La Tanagra, who does classic dances in a yard of pinkveil. She is a very nice girl, too. Of course, some of them----" Heshrugged.

  The music stopped. Through a press of laughing, flushed people returningto their tables, a waiter wound a difficult passage with the firstcourse of the supper Adriance had ordered.

  Guests entered the room in a thin, constant stream, as the houradvanced. But there was no sign of Masterson. Elsie wondered what hewould say on finding her with Anthony. Would he be angry, indifferent,disconcerted? Perhaps he would not come alone.

  A sharp, imperious clang of cymbals rang out abruptly, hushing themurmur of voices and laughter. Elsie started from her abstraction, andsaw all eyes turned toward the centre of the room.

  "Demonstration dance," smiled Adriance. "Now you'll see something!"

  A short, dark man and a woman in yellow gauze through which showed herbare, dimpled knees, stood alone on the floor. At a second clang ofcymbals they floated with the music into a strange, half-Spanish,half-savage dance; a dance vigorously, even crudely alive and swift as aflight. The woman was not beautiful, but she was incredibly graceful.Her small, arched, flashing feet in their gilded slippers recalled ahalf-forgotten line to Elsie.

  "'And her sandals delighted his eyes----'" she quoted aloud. "Do youremember that, Anthony?"

  But Adriance was laughing at her.

  "Infant!" he mocked. "Wait until you've seen it as often as I have, andthen you will not let your supper grow cold. There, it's over!"

  It was. The dance ended with the dancers in each other's arms, glancesknit, lips almost touching. The applause was courteous. The audience,like Adriance, was too sophisticated to be readily excited. It reallypreferred to do its own dancing.

  The preference was gratified during the next half hour. One-step,fox-trot and a Lulu Fado followed in smooth succession. The room wasvery full, now. One or two parties began to show too much exhilaration.

  "I wish Fred would come," Adriance remarked, with a restive glance atthe noisiest group. "I don't want you to be here much after midnight. Iwonder----"

  He was interrupted by a second crash of brazen cymbals that struck downthe chatter and movement of the crowd. With the harsh, resonant clang,and continuing after it had ceased, came the soft chime of a clockstriking twelve.

  This time a more decided interest greeted the announcement. In fact, adistinct thrill ran through the room. Men and women abandoned forks andglasses, turning eagerly toward the entrance. A marked hush continued inthe place.

  "Some celebrity," Adriance interpreted, impatiently. "ConfoundMasterson's whims--why couldn't he have seen me at home? Now he can'tget in until this is over."

  The music had commenced--a tripping languorous ballet suite from afamous opera. Into the large, square arch of the doorway a girl driftedand stood.

  She was a sullen, magn
ificent creature, as she faced the audience. Herfull, red mouth was straight-lipped, returning no smile to the welcomingapplause. It was not possible to imagine a dimple breaking the firmcurve of her rouged cheek. Elsie thought she never had seen a woman soindisputably handsome, or so utterly lacking in feminine allure. Heapsof satin-black hair framed her face and were held by jewelled bandeaux;her corsage was dangerously low, retained in place by narrow strings ofbrilliants over her strong, smooth, white shoulders. Her skirts werethose of the conventional ballet: billows of spangled rose-coloredtulle. As she began to dance, her eyes, very large and dark behind theirdarkened lashes, swept the spectators with a sombre alertness. Elsiefelt the glance pass across her and rest on Anthony. Yes, rest there,for an instant of fixed attention! But Adriance showed no change ofexpression to his wife's questioning regard; he watched the dancer witha placid interest, without evincing any sign of recognition.

  It was a curious dance, as singularly stripped of womanly allure as thegirl's beauty. Yet it was graceful and clever. She bent and swayedthrough the measures, circling the room with a studied coquetry cold asindifference; posing now and then with a rose she lifted to touch lipsor cheek. The audience looked on with a sustained tension of interestthat the performance did not seem to warrant. Elsie noticed that the menlaughed or evinced faint embarrassment if the dancer leaned toward them,but the women clapped enthusiastically and sent smiling glances. Whatwas it that these people knew, but which she and Anthony did not? Therewas something----

  Just opposite the Adriances the dancer had slipped in executing anintricate and difficult step. She staggered, catching herself, but notbefore she had reeled heavily against Elsie's chair.

  "Pardon!" she panted, her voice low. "The floor is too polished!"

  For a moment her eyes looked full into Elsie's, and they were not dark,but a very bright blue. The brush of her naked arm and shoulder left astreak of white powder on the other's sleeve; a heavy fragrance ofheliotrope shook from her garments. Before Adriance could rise she wasgone.

  "Confounded clumsiness!" he exclaimed, with suppressed anger. "Did shehurt you, Elsie?"

  "No. Oh, no! Anthony, I know her--I knew her eyes."

  He stared at his wife.

  "You know her!"

  "I recognized her eyes. I do not know who she is, I cannot think; yet Iknow her. She knew me, too; I saw it in her face. And I believe sheknows you."

  "Elsie!"

  "She looked---- Wait; she is finishing!"

  The music was indeed rising to a finale. The dancer glided to thecentral arch through which she had entered, poised on the verge oftaking flight, then raised both hands to her head.

  The black wig came off with the sweeping gesture. The dancer was a man,whose short-clipped auburn hair tumbled in boyish disorder about hispowdered forehead. But there was no look of boyhood in his face, as heturned it toward Adriance's table; the familiar, reckless face of FredMasterson.

  The room was in an uproar of laughter and applause. But the dancerdisappeared without acknowledging or pausing to enjoy his success;indeed, as if escaping from it.

  When Elsie ventured to look at her husband, he had one hand across hiseyes. He dropped it at once, but avoided her gaze as if the humiliationwere his own.

  "Finish your coffee," he bade, his voice roughened by a dry hoarseness."I want to get out of this--to get home."

  "We have not spoken to Mr. Masterson," she hesitatingly reminded him."He asked us to meet him."

  "I suppose I have seen what he wanted me to see."

  The waiter was beside them again, checking her answer. It seemed toElsie that the man eyed Anthony with a furtive and maliciouscomprehension. Had he ever seen Tony Adriance with Mrs. Masterson, shewondered? Did he imagine--she thrust away the thought.

  "After all, dear, aren't we prejudiced?" she essayed, unconvinced andunconvincing reason. "Isn't it really as if he were an actor?"

  "No, it isn't! You know it's not. It isn't what he does that thesepeople applaud; they applaud because he does it. He succeeds by making ashow of himself, his name, his position. The grotesqueness of his beinghere succeeds, not his work. Well--are you ready?"

  "Yes," she answered, submissive to his mood.

  He paid the check, and they passed out. Elsie recovered her hat and coatfrom the maid, in the dressing-room below. She was too preoccupied tonotice the attendant's inquisitive scrutiny, or the frank stare of afair-haired girl who was making up her complexion with elaborate carebefore one of the mirrors. It would not have occurred to her, if shehad, that word had passed down the staff of servants that the quietgirl in black was Mrs. Tony Adriance. But without knowing her own plainattire had the reflected lustre of cloth-of-gold, she was too femininenot to embrace with a glance of faintly wistful admiration the furs,velvets and shining satins of the wraps left in this place by the otherwomen. No preoccupation could quite ignore that array. There was onecoat of gray velvet that matched her own eyes, lined with poppy-huedsilk that matched her lips. A trifle dismayed by her own frivolity, shehastened out from the place of temptation. Anthony was waiting for her.