As she danced around, the cobra twined about her.
It crawled in and out among the soft folds of her gauzy drapery.
It disarranged the coverings of her shoulders.
And of her breast.
And of her waist.
Thus it was that Lotus Flower postured and posed before the Maharajah and his guest, her naked body gleaming under the light of the lamps, and the great cruel cobra crawling over her lithe young limbs.
The cobra twined about her shoulders.
Lotus Flower darted here and there.
The cobra twisted about her thighs.
Lotus Flower rushed hither and thither.