Seth, who also was not lacking in wisdom which prompts a man toward self-preservation, got up and leaned against the wall out of reach of the net.
“Oh, she won’t fall, my lord,” said the chairman, with a satisfied smile. “Bella knows a trick worth two of that; trust her for taking care of herself. Here she is!” and, striking the table in front of him with an ivory hammer, he shouted, “Order, gentlemen!” in stentorian tones.
The band grew louder, and then, amid a general silence, a woman sprang onto the stage.
She was tall, but so exquisitely made, and every limb so perfectly proportioned, that she did not look more than a medium height. She was, of course, dressed in silk tights, which displayed her handsome figure, and that small portion of her attire which was not composed of silk tights was of ruby plush, flecked here and there by diamonds, which in this case were real; but few would have given a second glance at the diamonds after seeing her face. It was a singular one. She was dark, and her hair, tightly coiled at the crown of her shapely head, was black, and the face was striking in its mixture of audacity and simplicity. She came to the footlights with a smile that was at once defiant and self-assertive, but at the same time there was a look of almost gentle depreciation, of childlike gayety, in her dark eyes.
It was as much her beauty as her marvelous skill on the trapeze that drew the crowds to the Palace during her engagement.
As she came forward into the glare of the footlights, Seth raised his eyes and looked at her with piercing scrutiny, then softly and slowly drew back, slid back, into the shadow of the balcony.
Her appearance was the signal for a loud outburst of applause, and a buzz of excitement ran through the audience, “the swells” drew a few inches nearer, as if fascinated, and the band, which had paused during her reception, broke into a gay and exhilarating air.
She acknowledged the enthusiastic welcome with a smile and a nod, while a couple of stage attendants in gorgeous liveries seized a rope that hung from the lofty ceiling, and with every sign of respect brought it within her reach. She sprang at it as a cat springs at a bird, and, with a grace and ease almost incredible, drew herself up to the trapeze, which hung at a giddy height above the stalls.
Trapeze performances are very much alike, but Bella-Bella’s was distinguished by its audacity, and the grace with which it was executed. She and the trapeze seemed to be part and parcel of the same machine. One moment she was swinging by one hand, her lithe body at right angles; the next she was suspended by her feet and nothing else, her face smiling down at the audience beneath her, as if to hang head downwards forty yards above the earth were the commonest of feats. There was a ladder suspended lengthways just below the ceiling, and, with an effort which seemed effortless, she reached it, and traveled along it, first by one hand and then by one foot. Then she dropped like a feather to the trapeze again, and knelt on one knee. Suddenly, while the applause was almost deafening, she uttered a cry of feigned terror, and dropped like a stone into the net beneath. Broken as her fall was by the net, it would have shaken the life out of an ordinary man, to say nothing of woman, but almost instantly she was on her feet again, and, seizing the guide-rope, was slowly swung onto the stage.
A roar like that of the wild beasts of Ephesus rose from the excited audience, and she stood looking round with slightly flushed face and parted lips, scarcely bowing, but receiving the general applause as if it were her due—as, doubtless, it was—then turned to go. As she did so she glanced down at the group of gentlemen, and gave them an almost imperceptible nod.