Was it the gold that excited them, or is there a spirit of the dance which resides somewhere in the air or in the light, and enters the bodies of its votaries? These women became ecstatic; they seemed to emerge from themselves, and to become each a living presence of Terpsichore. They closed their eyes as if they danced in sleep. Their lips were parted to inhale the intoxicating breath of their goddess, who should thus supply the energy which physical motion exhausted. The timing of their feet became as pulse-beats, rhythmic, strong, flinging them through the forms of the dance, as a fever throb whirls one through the maze of fantastic visions. They bent until their dishevelled hair touched the floor, like stalks of grain beneath the weight of golden tassels. Then, as the wind lifts the stalk and flings high its bannered top, the women became erect. With instruments above their heads, they swirled, each like a glistening whirlpool, until the spectators were dizzied. During the performance Helena had spiced the wine more than once with her lips as she passed the cup to Glaucon. "The dance is shamefully poor," said she. "How that girl mouthed her words, and failed to give the right accent! The click of the castanets is not timed to her motions. And the movement of her ankles--as awkward as if her legs were flail-sticks. The girls are not artists. Let them sing again, and I will show them how." She rose from the divan and, seizing the cythera from the hand of one of the performers, rendered the song with wonderful power. Now Helena's notes floated as buoyantly as those of a lark, and anon sank into exquisite softness and depth, as blue wings sink into the azure. Then, dropping from her shoulders her outer robe, with snapping fingers in lieu of castanets, she gave the dance.