“Will you not lay aside your cloak?” The request very delicately toned yet held a faint air of command. Willy-nilly Peregrine slipped it from his shoulders.
“Ha!” laughed Phrixus, “you are Jester. So I might have guessed. Truly being so you are doubly welcome. Is it not so, friends?”
Again a cry rang loud. “Welcome the Jester!”
“An’ I were not very sure I were waking I should hold myself dreaming,” mused Peregrine inwardly. Fate to his mind played pretty pranks with a man’s life, tossed it shuttlecock-like from depths to heights, threw it from fair earth to stony ground, and then again to very flowery beds. Here at least was one sufficiently pleasing for the moment. Truly he would take no thought for the morrow, but enjoy the hour to its full. An honoured guest he sat there, satisfying his appetite very fully from silver dishes served to him by pages in white and gold.
The meal ended the board was cleared. It and the trestles on which it lay were carried away by serving men, rugs rolled aside. At the end of the hall, somewhat near the great fireplace, was a raised dais. Here the ivory chair was placed. Thaïs seated in it the company disposed themselves around her according to will. Peregrine lay at her feet on sapphire blue cushions soft as eiderdown. Very content with the present he waited for the next move.
It came. The lights in the hall were extinguished. The moonlight, falling through the windows, lay along the floor in a silver pathway. The tapestries at the further end of the hall swung apart. From between them, down the moonlight path, ran bare-footed girls silken-robed, veiled, four phalanxes of colour, pale heliotrope shading to deepest purple; red to fullest crimson; the green of young beech leaves to the black green of pine trees; maize-colour toning through orange to tawny brown. A moment they swayed bowing before the dais, then set themselves to dance, accompanied by music from hidden musicians. Their feet upon the green marble of the floor were like little white flowers dancing in breeze-swept meadows. Here was very intoxication of movement, rhythm perfect in harmony. As they danced they raised their veils. Peregrine looked on their faces oval, bright-eyed, scarlet-lipped; small heads set on slim young throats. The very incarnation of youth and joy was personified in the dance before him. The fleetness of it, the dainty fragility, brought with it a sense of evanescence. The thought struck suddenly cold to his heart.
Thaïs bent from her chair towards him.
“How does it please you?” she asked, her breath soft upon his cheek, her voice like the tone of a muffled silver bell.
“Madam, it pleases me exceeding well,” said Peregrine. Meeting her eyes he smiled.