Atherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn, 1857-1948 / 2008-07-31 00:00:00

"
"He saw yours, Dona Ysabel, and is looking upon you now from the
corridor without, although the fog is heavy about him. Cannot you see
him--that dark shadow by the pillar?"
Ysabel never went through the graceful evolutions of the contradanza
as she did that night. Her supple slender body curved and swayed and
glided; her round arms were like lazy snakes uncoiling; her exquisitely
poised head moved in perfect concord with her undulating hips. Her eyes
grew brighter, her lips redder. The young men who stood near gave as
loud a vent to their admiration as if she had been dancing El Son alone
on the floor. But the man without made no sign.
After the dance was over, General Castro led her to her duena, and
handing her a guitar, begged a song.
She began a light love-ballad, singing with the grace and style of her
Spanish blood; a little mocking thing, but with a wild break now and
again. As she sang, she fixed her eyes coquettishly on the adoring face
of Guido Cabanares, who stood beside her, but saw every movement of the
form beyond the window.
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