A half hour later she might have been found in the throng of joy hunters on the Midway of the great Fair.
She had just emerged from a breath-taking crush when off to the right she caught sight of a curious group gathered about some person beating a drum.
Tum, tum, tum, the dull monotony of beats played upon her ears.
Having joined the circle, she found herself looking at a very dark-skinned person with deep, piercing eyes. The man wore a long white robe. On his head was something resembling a Turkish towel twisted into a large knot.
Seated on the ground near this man were two others quite as dark as he. One was beating a curious sort of drum, the other squeaking away at something resembling a flute.
“Now watch! I will make him go up! Up! He will climb the rope. He will disappear utterly. Utterly!” The dark man’s voice, coming as it did from deep down in his throat, suggested that he might be talking from a well.
Upon hearing these words a small man stepped forward. The dark-faced one drew a circle about this little man.
At once the dark one began to whirl, then to dance.
Jeanne had witnessed many strange dances, but none so weird as this. The man whirled round and round until his robe seemed a winding sheet for a ghost. He began revolving about in a circle. And inside that circle stood the little man who was, Jeanne discovered, dressed in a curious sort of yellow gown.
Faster and faster went the drum beats, squeak-squeak went the flute, wilder and wilder flew the dancer.