"A young man to whom the prince chooses to be kind is, in a way, fortunate," she said. "I think he knows more of life than any other person whom I ever met."
"You have known him for long?"
"In Budapest, five years ago; in Russia, the season afterward; then in Paris; in Petersburg again, and now in London. The prince has been a faithful friend. He came once from Florence to Petersburg, to be present at my first night at the opera. Always he impresses me the same way. There is very little in life, in men or in women, which he does not understand. Let us return to what we were speaking about. I find it very interesting."
"You are very kind," John declared.
"What you will learn here," she went on, "depends very much upon yourself. Are you intelligent? Perhaps not very," she added, looking at him critically. "You have brains, however, without a doubt. You have also what places you at once en rapport with the cult of the moment—you are wonderfully good-looking."
John moved a little uneasily in his place. He felt that the dancer's eyes were fixed upon him, and he was feverishly anxious not to respond to the invitation of their gaze. He was conscious, too, of the queer, indefinable fascination of her near presence in the dimly lighted room.
"What you will learn," she proceeded, "depends very much upon your desires. If you seek for the best, and are content with nothing else, you will find it. But so few men are content to wait!"
"I intend to," John said simply.
"Look at me, please," she ordered.
Once more he was compelled to look into her deep-blue eyes. The incomprehensible smile was still upon her lips.