"Etiquette," he answered. "I would swallow a mouse for the sake of etiquette in this polite country."
During the dinner there had been a sound of suppressed laughter and the tinkle of music behind the partitions, and now, after the last round of the innumerable courses had been served, the partitions were shoved aside and four samisen players entered followed by eight dancing girls. Nothing could equal the grace of their bows as they glided softly in. Their smiles of welcome were inimitable. Then their faces became grave and serious and the dance began. The oldest was hardly more than fifteen and the youngest about ten. They were like sober-faced little dolls in gorgeous brocaded robes as they paraded, stamped their white-stockinged feet and postured with elaborate fans.
Mme. Fontaine, who had eaten no dinner and talked very little, watched the dancers with intense interest.
"Are they not charming little creatures?" she asked Mr. Campbell. "They are trained to be so,—to sing, dance and amuse and to look pretty. But I assure you some of them develop into splendid women. Many of them marry well. The geisha girl is not always a butterfly."
There was a subdued fire in her eyes as she spoke.
Mr. Campbell looked at her curiously.
"You have a special tenderness for them, I see," he remarked.
"I was one," she said.
While this little colloquy was going on, Yoritomo was whispering into
Nancy's ear:
"You think they are pretty? But they are not so beautiful as you. There are no blue eyes in Japan."