"Oh, I'll never live through it, I know," she cried, as soon as
they were out upon the floor. "How CAN you be so calm?"
"I'm not. I'm as panicky as you are."
"And she, poor little thing! She seems frightened to death."
"But--isn't she beautiful?"
Mrs. Runnels admitted the fact cheerfully, and at the same time
noted how her partner's muscles swelled and hardened as Miss
Garavel glided past in the arms of Ramon Alfarez. It gave her a
thrill to see a real drama unfolding thus before her very eyes.
To Kirk, Chiquita had never appeared so ravishing, nor so purely
Spanish as to-night. She was clad in some mysterious filmy white
stuff that floated about her form like a mist. The strangeness and
brilliance of her surroundings had frightened her a little, and
the misery at her heart had filled her wide, dark eyes with a
plaintive melancholy. But she was entirely the fine lady through
it all, and she accepted the prominence that was hers as the
leading senorita of the Republic with simple dignity and
unconcern. The women began to whisper her name, the men followed
her with admiring glances. At every interval between dances she
was besieged by gayly clad officers, civilians in white--the
flower of her own people and of the American colony as well--all
eager to claim her attention or to share in her shy, slow smile.
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