An elderly dame recognized my companion; she advanced, and invited us to enter her house. When our errand was known, great excitement ensued amidst the younger damsels of the gipsy community. Each one trusted that her good looks and skill in the Terpsichorean art would influence my companion in his choice.
"Be quiet!" said the old woman indignantly to some of the more obstreperous of her young ladies, who, to show my companion their agility, were performing a sort of cancan step, very different from those dances which I had hitherto seen in the East.
"Now, then, Effendi," to my companion, "how many girls do you require?"
"Three."
"Well, three you shall have. The most beautiful and gazelle-like of our tribe. I will come myself," continued the old lady, "and I too will dance, if only to show the Frank Effendi what our dance is like."
It was as much as I could do to keep my countenance; the old woman was very fat; some of the girls, catching my eye, went off into fits of laughter.
"Ah! you may laugh, children," said the old woman indignantly, "but none of you can dance like I can. They are not supple like I am, Effendi. They cannot move their hips. They cannot sway the lower part of their bodies. Look here!"
And straightening her aged limbs, the old woman commenced wriggling her different joints, the girls applauding her, and beating time with their hands to each movement of the dancer's body.
"Very good," said Vankovitch, as she sank down on a divan, with a force which would have smashed any less strong piece of furniture. "Very good. You dance like a stag. You shall come too."
"Thank heavens," he remarked in French, "that she did not throw herself on to my lap, for this is the custom of these wild dancers; if she had done so, there would not have been much left of me. But come along, let us return; it is very stuffy here."