Portia being in charge of the stunt programme, she called upon Blanche who gave the “Prologue from Pagliacci” in a baritone voice and with expression which would have done credit to an opera singer. Lucy Warner surprised her chums by a fine recital of “The Chambered Nautilus,” giving the quiet dramatic emphasis needed to bring out Holmes’ poem. Marie Peyton danced a fisher’s hornpipe. Vera Mason borrowed one of Robin’s kimonos and a fan and performed a Japanese fan dance. Several of the Silvertonites sang, danced, recited, or told a humorous story.
“As we shall have time for only one more stunt, I will call on Ronny Lynne,” Portia announced, smiling invitingly at Ronny. “Wait a minute until I call the orchestra together. We will play for you,” she added.
“Play for me for what?” Ronny innocently inquired. Nevertheless she laughed. Though she had yet to dance for the first time at Hamilton, she knew that her ability as a dancer was an open secret.
“For your dance, of course. What kind of dance are you going to do? Mustn’t refuse. Everyone else has been so obliging.” Portia beamed triumph of having thus neatly caught Ronny.
“I suppose I must fall in line. I don’t know what to dance. Most of my dances require special costumes.” Ronny glanced dubiously at the white and gold evening frock she was wearing. “I know one I can do,” she said, after a moment’s thought.
Raising her voice so as to be heard by all, she continued in her clear tones: “Girls, I am going to do a Russian interpretative dance for you. The idea is this: A dancer at the court of a king, who is honored because of her art, loses her sweetheart. She becomes so despondent that no amount of praise can lift her from her gloom. She tries to decide whether she had best kill her rival or herself. Finally she decides to kill her rival. I shall endeavor to make this plain in a dance containing two intervals and three episodes. The first depicts the dancer in her glory. The second, in her dejection. The third, her decision to kill.”
A brief consultation with the orchestra as to what they could play, suitable to the interpretation, and Ronny was ready. Phyllis, the reliable, who had been proficient on the violin from childhood, and possessed a wide musical repertoire, both vocal and instrumental, played over a few measures of a valse lente. Her musicians were familiar enough with it to follow her lead. Moskowski’s “Serenade” was chosen for the second episode, and Scharwenki’s “Polish Dance” for the third.
Every pair of eyes was centered on Ronny’s slight, graceful figure as she stood at ease for an instant waiting for the music to begin. Many of the girls present had never seen an interpretative dance. With the first slow, seductive strains of the waltz, Ronny became the court dancer. In perfect time to the music she made the low sweeping salutes to an imaginary court, then executed a swaying, beautiful dance of intricate steps in which her whole body seemed to take part in the expression of her art. The grace of that symphonic, white and gold figure was such the watchers held their breath. At the end of the episode there was a dead silence. Applause, when it came, was deafening.
Ronny claimed the tiny interval for rest, merely raising her hands in a despairing gesture at the hub-bub her dance had created. By the time she was ready to continue it had subsided. All were now anxious to see her interpretation of the jilted woman.
The second, though much harder to execute, Ronny liked far better than the first. Particularly fond of the Russian idea of the dance, she threw her whole heart into the story she was endeavoring to convey by motion. When she had finished she was tired enough to gladly claim a rest while Portia went upstairs for a paper knife which would serve as a dagger for the third episode.