Her charm grew on him, stirred his pulses to a faster beat. For
it was his favorite sport, and this warm, supple young creature,
who was to be the victim of his bow and arrow, showed herself
worthy of his mettle.
The clock downstairs struck the half-hour, and Bannister,
reminded of what lay before him outside, made a move to go. Her
alert eyes had been expecting it, and she forestalled him by a
change of tactics. Moved apparently by impulse, she seated
herself on the piano-stool, swept the keys for an instant with
her fingers, and plunged into the brilliant "Carmen" overture.
Susceptible as this man was to the influence of music, he could
not fail to be arrested by so perfect an interpretation of his
mood. He stood rooted, was carried back again in imagination to a
great artiste's rendering of that story of fierce passion and
aching desire so brilliantly enacted under the white sunbeat of a
country of cloudless skies. Imperceptibly she drifted into other
parts of the opera. Was it the wild, gypsy seductiveness of
_Carmen_ that he felt, or, rather, this American girl's
allurement? From "Love will like a birdling fly" she slipped into
the exquisitely graceful snatches of song with which _Carmen_
answers the officer's questions.
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