“Let us see.” Solomon allowed his glance to fall upon the circle of dancers. “Perhaps we can find something you all know. Then you can do it together.”
He named one well known dance after another; this one from light opera and that from grand opera, without success until he came to the polka from The Bartered Bride.
At once all eyes shone. Even Dan Baker was prepared to do his part, and Swen to have a try at the music.
Never was the beautiful dance performed in such unusual surroundings. And seldom has it been done so well.
When the last graceful swing was executed, when whirling gowns were still, and the company had gathered in a circle before the fire with the girls reposing in colorful groups on his beloved rugs, and the men standing about, Angelo caught a long breath, and murmured:
“Perfect!”
“This,” said Solomon in a voice that trembled slightly, “is a great moment. The best, in a great profession, I have met. The result is beauty beyond compare, and a light opera that will outshine the sun.”
“But the playhouse.” Angelo strove to bring him down to earth.
“The house? The most beautiful in the city. Where else? The Civic Theatre. You know the place.”
“Know it?” How well he knew that place of beauty, that palace of gold and old rose!