“It is a first night at the Thalian; my brother never misses one. I don’t expect we shall see him to-night. Young men have so many ways of amusing themselves, I wonder they care about dances at all.”
The musicians struck up a fresh waltz, and Bertie came over to claim the first of his dances with Judith.
He danced very nicely, in a straightforward, unambitious way, never reversing his partner round a corner without saying, “I beg your pardon.”
Esther, her sharp brown shoulders shuffling restlessly in and out of a gold-coloured gown of moiré silk, and with a string of pearls round her neck worth a king’s ransom, surveyed the scene with shrewd, miserable eyes, while rattling on aimlessly to her partner and protégé, Mr. Peck.
It was indeed a motley throng which was whirling and laughing and shouting across the music, in the bare, bright, flower-scented apartment.
The great majority of the people were Jews—Jews belonging to varying shades of caste and clique in that socially sensitive Community. But besides these, there was a goodly contingent of Gentile dancing men—“outsiders,” according to Reuben, every one—and a smaller band of Gentile ladies who were the fashion of the hour among the sons of Shem.
(“Bad form” was the label affixed by Reuben to these attractive maids and matrons.)
To give distinction to the scene, there were a well-known R.A., who had painted Rose’s portrait for last year’s Academy; two or three pretty actresses; an ex-Lord Mayor, who had been knighted while in office; and last, though by no means least in the eyes of the clannish children of Israel, Caroline Cardozo and her father.
“‘What a pretty girl’?” did you say, remarked Esther as the music died away. “Yes, Judith Quixano is very good-looking, but I don’t know that she goes down particularly well.”
Mr. Peck made some complimentary remark, of a general character, as to the beauty of Jewish ladies.