Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 59: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE DANCING DOLL. and struck a few notes while he watched Tina sway and balance her slim young body on the platform. “Play me the same tune that you play for Margot, you know ‘ The Swan.’ ” Once more Tina began to dance. Presently the old man stopped suddenly. “Why are you so gay? Why do you wish to dance? Why are you dressed in white instead of your black and red costume?” ‘““T can confess to you, Father Pierre. It is that Dancing Doll! Yesterday she said: ‘Some day I will go to New York!’ ” ‘““Ah ha! And that pleases you!” “Of course. I thought she was going to stick around here forever!” “And is that why you dance? Is that all?” Tina was embarrassed. ‘‘I guess you'll think I’ve got my nerve but I thought— well, I just thought if I began to practice now—perhaps when Margot has gone, I might do a turn in the café. Of course I’m no raving beauty but I’m not exactly a dried prune, am I?” “Far from it! You’re enchanting with those black eyes and the coral lips and that wild dark hair—but, mademoiselle, you are making a mistake!” ‘““ How so?” “You are trying to be another Margot. You dress like her. You try to dance like her. You ask me to play her melody, ‘ The Swan.’ Now, my child, that is not the way to succeed. You must be yourself. Margot is a snow fairy from the north. You are a gypsy from the south. You are a wild thing. No one has tamed you. And your dance must be wild—a flame! A whirlwind!” Pierre Vigney struck dramatic chords on the piano and then swung into a gypsy air that was all fire and passion. “ Like that!” he exclaimed. “Can you teach me any steps?” asked Tina, her eyes brightening. She swung her slender hips in rhythm to the wild melody. “T have it!” exclaimed the old French- man. ‘‘ What you should do is the dance of the apache. That would suit you per- fectly. Listen!” And he dashed into a wild shivery tune that stretched the nerves. “That’s it! That’s the way they play it 4 A 49 on the Butte Montmartre! How many times in the cellar cafés have I seen them dance to that, those cut-throats and their girls! If you could do the dance of the apache in the café you would make more sensation than Margot.” ‘““T wonder whether George would like it as well as ‘ The Swan,’ ” suggested the girl timidly. “George will like anything that draws trade. He’s a business man,” affirmed Pierre Vigney. “ Aside from that, anybody with fire in his veins will go wild over this dance. It is primitive—of the jungle—yes, the jungle of great cities.” So every morning after that Tina prac- ticed the dance of the thieves’ dens of Paris. And old Pierre found a young Frenchman, a ne’er-do-well from some ship, as a dane- ing partner. Jean Lenoir, he called him- self. A shady young rascal who might have learned something of the apache dance at first hand. In a short black shirt, rolled black stock- ings, a red handkerchief about her bare throat and a scarlet flower in her dark hair, Tina looked the part and played it. It needed little acting for her to fall into the role of a gangster’s girl. It was part of her recent history. And Tina arranged it so that Jean Lenoir was taken on as a waiter in the café so as to be always on hand for rehearsals. It was understood that all this was to be a secret from George until the day when the Dalbys should finish their time and go elsewhere. Tina would fill the gap, dance triumphantly before the patrons of La Scala and bow to the sound of wild ap- plause and the jingle of coins about her feet. As George came late to the café, it was not difficult to keep it a secret from him. But one morning Pierre Vigney said: * Tina, this is good, this little dance of yours, but it is not quite the real thing. People who know Paris will understand that you’ve never seen the real thing.” “Tell me what I shall do?” “It can’t be told. It must be seen. Listen, child! Go some moonlight night to the top of the hill where Louie the apache hangs out. They dance there in the flat COMMICLOOkKsS (E@)