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 society he met through Alveg Dahl. "It is not at all like your going out with other men. These women are interested in my art. They could become patronesses for our recital."

He had thought her jealous when all she felt was surprise that he believed such patronage natural. It seemed unprofessional, amateur. Still, if as he said they did it like that in Europe, maybe it was all right; in a way it was like having an angel for a Broadway show.

"Careful of my makeup," she said, evading a kiss. "Here's our cue."

The screens were folded by two slaves recruited from Harlem's Lafayette Theatre and the first person she saw, sitting straight up with monstrous fig breasts draped in plum crepe like some weird Empress next to Figente on his throne, was Horta Cornwallis. I hope that awful woman isn't always going to turn up in my life, she thought uneasily, and turned into the safety of Ranna's embrace.

The well-rehearsed duet wove and flowed, even the full gauze skirt collaborating to incite the audience.

The faces reminded her of those at the Bison Ball. Anything sexy sure goes big. How did Clem get here, and looking as though she had hurt him? A stage was better than being on the same level with the audience because then you were separate and could keep your mind on the dance. Was she more of an artist now than in the show? She hoped so fervently and tried to pretend she really was a Princess, no a Queen, so that while doing sort of a grind she did it in a refined way. This got an unexpected laugh, though no one was supposed to laugh. Anyway, there was a big hand at the end.

"What did you do, that they laughed?" Ranna said crossly.

"I just did what you told me, pretended I was a Queen," she said indignantly and went to dress.

"What a charming couple they make," Horta Cornwallis said tentatively to discover Figente's attitude toward the girl.

"Lucy enhances anyone she's with," Figente said, speculating on the possibility of bisexual talent in Ranna, as the idea of sharing a lover with Lucy appealed to him.

"I am sure of it," Horta agreed quickly.

"Aside from her beauty," he went on, "what is enchanting is that she has retained her individuality and Western manner of speech—which you probably recognize, Horta So many provincials think they must ape New Yorkers."

The Marqués de Mendez y Avila nodded. "One is captivated to 312