nquiringly over her face, but it was evident that
hers had been merely a chance remark. The old lady had obviously 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 had omitted to hand out when
recounting her adventure in the fog to her godmother. Quarrington leaned
back in his chair satisfied.

"It's not unlike," he agreed carelessly.

Then the entrance of Vladimir Ravinski, the lovelorn youth of the
legend, riveted his attention on the stage.

The dance which followed was exquisite. The Russian was a beautiful
youth, like a sun-god with his flying yellow locks and glorious symmetry
of body, and the _pas de deux_ between him and Magda was a thing to
marvel at--sweeping through the whole gamut of love's emotion, from
the first shy, delicate hesitancy of worshipping boy and girl to the
rapturous abandon of mated lovers.

Then across the vibrant, pulsating scene fell the deadly shadow of the
witch Ritmagar. The stage darkened, the violins in the orchestra skirled
eerily in chromatic showers 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 pity on them, now rushing
despairingly into each other's arms, while the witch's own dancing held
all of threat and malevolence that superb artistry could infuse into it.

The tale unfolded itself with the inevitableness of preordained
catastrophe.

Ritmagar declines to be appeased. She raises her claw-like hand,
pointing a crooked finger at the lovers, and with a clash of brazen
sound and the dull thrumming of drums the whole scene dissolves into
absolute darkness. When the darkness lifts once more, the stage 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 witch appeared once more and,
yielding to his impassioned entreaties, declared that the Swan-Maiden
might reassume her human form during the hour preceding sunset,
and Magda--the Swan-Maiden released from enchantment for the time
being--came running in on the stage.

This love-duet was resumed and presently, when the lovers had made their
exit, Ritmagar was seen gleefully watching while the red sun dropped
slowly down the sky, sinking at last be