“Bravo! Bravo!” they all echoed. “The play will be a great success even if there is nothing more than this.”
“There will be more—much more!” Angelo shouted joyously.
“As you dance,” he began again a moment later, when Petite Jeanne had settled back among her cushions, “an aged gypsy woman creeps from the shadows to whisper a word in the ear of the chief of the tribe. Word is passed round the circle. A great sadness falls over all. The Dance of Fire has failed. The dancing bear will dance no more. He is dead.
“At a glance the dancer learns all. The dance ended, she flings herself before the fire in an attitude of grief.
“Silence; the golden moon; the campfire; the bright painted wagons; and sorrow, such deep sorrow as only a gypsy knows.
“And then a curious thing happens. An old man, whose gray hair hangs down to his shoulders, comes dancing into the golden circle of light. As he enters the circle he exclaims:
“‘Why be sad? See! I am sent by the Fire God to fill the place of Tico, the bear. I shall be this beautiful one’s dancing partner.’
“The gypsies are surprised and, for the moment, amused. They ridicule him in true gypsy fashion.
“As he dances on and on, however, silence steals over the camp. They begin to realize that he is a marvelous dancer.
“He begins the gypsy dance to the harvest moon. Petite Jeanne springs to her feet and joins him. Her face is wreathed in smiles. She believes the God of Fire truly has sent this one to be her partner; else how could he dance so divinely?