The dancer, dazzling behind the footlights, may in ordinary living be so dull, so unkind, so fractious, that her smooth limbs and lovely face are lost in the immediacy of her spiritual unloveliness.
Abandoning his position, clearing the footlights without the aid of his wings, and, clambering up to the right–hand gallery, he fell at the feet of one of the spectators, crying, " Ah, my master! my master" !
Behind footlights it would have been irresistible, but somehow it did not touch the one spectator, though she had neither time nor skill to discover why. For all their ardor the words did not ring quite true.