The desire of the eyes does not take long to flame up and flare, and Marmaduke felt quite dizzy as he joined in the burst of applause when, with a final pirouette, the _danseuse_ kissed her hand to the audience. Or was it to him? "Never saw La Fantine dance better, Drum," remarked a thin old man, a relic of the past youth when he and the bridegroom expectant had roystered about together, "except, perhaps, that time, you remember, when she danced the _fandango_ with that South American fellow she----" He paused, remembering that this incident in Mdlle. Le Grand's career had best not be mentioned under present circumstances. "The _fandango?_" put in Marmaduke, afire. "I should like to see her dance that. It's the finest dance in the world. I learnt it in Cuba." "Hullo, Drum," said the old buck, "here's a chance! Your son says he can dance the _fandango_. Here's a chance. Let's have it. They'd make a handsome couple." Marmaduke blushed up to the ears; why, he knew not. Then he said stiffly-- "I'd rather not, Sir John." The refusal was opportune for the _fandango_; it roused the old man's arrogance. "Why not, sir?" he asked angrily. "You'd never get a better partner. Here, Fantine, my dear," he added, raising his voice, "this oaf of a boy of mine says he can dance the _fandango!_ Show him he can't, there's a good girl!" "I will do my leetle best, milor," she replied, with a maliciously provocative smile that would have incited anyone of spirit to action. "I am at mademoiselle's command for tuition," said Marmaduke, with a fine bow. His head was ringing, his pulses bounding. He was divided between anger and delight, between a desire to teach the little devil and his father a lesson, and keen pleasure at the thought of the coming dance. A minute after he stood making his bow beside La Fantine. "Do you really know it?" she had whispered. "Better than you do," he had whispered back brutally. "I've danced it in the pot-houses of Habana." Then it would be a trial of skill between them! She nodded to the zither player to begin, striking the strings with loud full-blooded notes that vibrated and thrilled through the little theatre and came back to aid the growing clamour of the music. It was grace and grace, suppleness and suppleness at first; then by degrees something fiercely beautiful, profoundly, almost overwhelmingly, appealing to the senses. The audience sat spellbound, while to those two there grew an absorbing forgetfulness of all save that they two, man and woman, were playing each with the other. Suddenly, when that reckless forgetfulness seemed to have reached its climax, the woman faltered for a second, turned to her companion. "Don't you know the rest?" he whispered softly. "Come on, I'll teach it you."