The tension relaxed, but did not pass--as though a storm-cloud should turn away, but still lurk, threatening.
My gaze ran back.

This end of the room was draped with the exquisitely coloured, graceful curtains looped with gorgeous garlands.
Between curtains and table, where sat Larry and the nine, a circular platform, perhaps ten yards in diameter, raised itself a few feet above the floor, its gleaming surface half-covered with the luminous petals, fragrant, delicate.
On each side below it, were low carven stools.

The curtains parted and softly entered girls bearing their flutes, their harps, the curiously emotion-exciting, octaved drums.

They sank into their places.

They touched their instruments; a faint, languorous measure throbbed through the rosy air.
The stage was set! What was to be the play?
Now about the tables passed other dusky-haired maids, fair bosoms bare, their scanty kirtles looped high, pouring out the wines for the feasters.
My eyes sought O'Keefe.