the movement formed a circle pattern and they began to whirl faster and faster, their arms outstretched like whirling dervishes. Nothing else happened. They whirled and whirled until one thought they must drop.
Then one wraith of a girl staggered and fell, and a stocky man with enormous handlebar mustachios appeared off in the wings and stood quietly. I heard some people say "There he is" and the girl, her face taut with anguish, struggled to her feet and after a while got back into time with the other spinning tops.
By now it seemed far past humanness and the only signs of cracking were visible in some of the audience. I thought of a revivalist tent meeting I had seen once in Congress but this was even more frightening—and ludicrous, for I wanted to laugh too, as a few were. I looked at Lucy, expecting that she surely would be wanting to laugh but to my surprise she was seriously intent, though her face did not have that expression of dedication on Ilona's and most of the audience. After what became for me a harrowing endless time the tops wound down and stopped as so many Trilbys. They did not seem breathless or tired and left the stage as they had come.
Since the curtain was not lowered there was some indecision as to whether the show was over and even when someone backstage finally cut off the stage lights most of the audience stayed on for a discussion among themselves—and hoping for a better view of Pergov who seemed to interest them more than his pupils. He left shortly thereafter and we saw quite close by his square powerful body and deep black eyes to say nothing of the mustachios which bristled like live wires beyond his ears. There were four women with him—one whose face was a lavenderish white mask of makeup with black outlined eyes and who wore a beautiful wig of fine silk thread to match and which was knotted in a large chignon at the nape of her neck. Cynski and some others tried to stop them unsuccessfully.
Damon, who goes in for anything that appears occult despite his Broadway profession, was fascinated, but Tessie only said vaguely it was interesting, that he should hurry and get a taxi.
I was exhausted and wanted to get away too and was glad Ilona didn't stop and left as in a trance—but Mary Doyle came to talk to us. She told us about Pergov's miracles at Rambouillet. How people who no longer could bear the unhappiness of