compelled to reassume her shape of a swan. Should
she fail to return by the appointed time, death would be the inevitable
consequence.

Every reader of fairy tales--and certainly anyone who knows anything
at all about being in love--can guess the sequel. Comes a day when the
lovers, absorbed in their love-making, forget the flight of time, so
that the unhappy maiden returns to the shore of the lake to find that
the sun has already dipped below the horizon. She falls on her knees,
beseeching the witch Ritmagar for mercy, but no answer is vouchsafed,
and gradually the Swan-Maiden finds herself growing weaker and weaker,
until at last death claims her.

A dance, based upon this legend, had been devised for Magda in
conjunction with Vladimir Ravinski, the brilliant Russian dancer, he
taking the lover's part, and the whole tragic little drama was designed
to terminate with a solo dance by Magda as the dying Swan-Maiden.
Davilof had written the music for it, and the dance was to be performed
at the Imperial Theatre for the first time the following week.

Davilof played ever more and more softly as the dance drew to its
close. The note of lament sounded with increasing insistence through the
slowing ripple of the accompaniment, and at last, as Magda sank to the
ground in a piteous attitude that somehow suggested both the drooping
grace of a dying swan and the innocence and helplessness of the hapless
maiden, the music died away into silence.

There was a little pause. Then Davilof sprang to this feet.

"By God, Magda! You're magnificent!" he exclaimed with the spontaneous
appreciation of one genuine artist for another.

Magda raised her head and looked up at him with vague, startled eyes.
She still preserved the pose on which the dance had ceased, and had
hardly yet returned to the world of reality from that magic world into
which her art had transported her.

The burning enthusiasm in Davilof's excited tones recalled her abruptly.

"Was it good--was it really good?" she asked a little shakily.

"Good?" he said. "It was superb!"

He held out his hands and she laid hers in them without thinking,
allowing him to draw her to her feet beside him.

She stood quite still, breathing rather quickly from her recent
exertions and supported by the close clasp of his hands on hers. Her
lips were a little parted, her slight breast rose and fell unevenly, and
a faint rose-colour glowed beneath the ivory pallor of her skin.

Su