But here and there upon grey earth there exist, like the flying
of sunlight, celestial pleasures also--and one of these is the heaven of
success. When, puffed-up and glorious, the successful creature struts
like a peacock, gilded in a passing radiance. And in a radiance, in a
magic illumination, the newcomers danced in the drawing-room of the
Commandant Dormans, and tasted that which cannot be found when sought,
nor held when tasted.
Old tapestries of tropical foliage hung around the walls, dusk upon one
wall, dawn upon another. Trees climbed from floor to ceiling laden with
lime-coloured flowers, with birds instead of fruits upon the branches.
When at a touch the yellow dust flew out under the lamplight it seemed
to the mazy eye of the dancer that the trees sent up a mist of
pollen and song.
In this happy summer, Fanny, turning her vain ear to spoken flattery,
her vain eye to mute, danced like a golden gnat in fine weather.
The Commandant Dormans spoke to her. If he was not young he had a quick
voice that was not old. He said: "We welcome you. We have been waiting
for you. We are glad you have come."
Faces surrounded her which to her fresh eyes were not easy to read.
Names which she had heard last night became young and old men to her
--skins red and pale and dark-white--eyes blue and olive and black--gay,
audacious and mocking features.
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