Her soft skin, of fine texture, was uniformly tanned over her entire body, as if she were wont to take regular sun baths in Eve’s costume. Powder and rouge were conspicuous by their absence, her complexion being naturally healthy and full of bloom. A beautiful symmetrical face, with a delicate lower jaw, a small, distinctly curved, cupid’s bow mouth; a high finely arched brow added to the beauty of her sparkling eyes. Hers was a gracefully molded head, somewhat high forehead, with a straight, clear cut, slender nose, indicating intelligence. Her dark hair and silk-like skin showed her refinement of birth; her intelligent eyes, gray-blue, were lustrous and brilliant, full of fire, and in size well proportioned to her ruby-lipped mouth. When smiling, slightly pinkish teeth, semi-transparent, looking like two rows of pearls, enchanted the beholder. Her upward curved oval shaped nostrils, and the small wrists and ankles, together with her entire bearing, betrayed that she was, or at least could be, a woman of extreme passion. She could be a vampire, Carl mused, a real one, if once her nature was aroused. He could not tell whether desire had as yet been awakened in her. Young and vibrant, she appeared, off hand, as a rare desert flower, grown up undefiled and now blooming in full glory. Then came reaction. Carl felt himself consumed by an overpowering desire for this girl. To make matters worse, the dancer when passing his table, gave him a glance that caused his bosom to heave and his eyes to shine with that light that clever women kindle in men. To his mind came memories of the many girls he had met and known. None of them, he realized, would ever mean anything to him now. This desert dancer was his ideal. Yes, Grace, Fannie, Marion and the rest were out of the question now. None of them could compare with this girl, either in physical or spiritual beauty. Dorinda was about the only girl whose figure could match that of this dancer. But Carl was not alone in his studies of the girl. The others, too, are gazing intently at her. Not a movement of her lithe form escaped their eager eyes. Not a sound came from their lips, even their breathing seemed suppressed. It was as quiet as Mass at church. Carl could scarcely restrain himself when the dancer came near him, whirling and gyrating her body. And the dance! Carl had never seen anything of its kind before. This was no shimmy of the city dance-hall, no “danse du ventre,” but something wild and free. Wild and free, he reasoned, like the girl herself. Their eyes met, and in her look Carl thought he read mutual understanding. The girl seemed to lose control of herself. Carl feared what would come next, when suddenly the music stopped its wail. The dancer stopped and bowing to the audience sought to return to her tent amidst the applause of the crowd.