Story of Bali, Indonesia

One of the most beautiful dances I have ever seen was a quartette between two Topeng masks, one 'sweet' and one 'strong', and two comic attendants who seemed to mediate between them, as they wound about, stole towards each other and broke away again, the patih more and more devious and tormented in his approach, the king more brooding and irresolute, spasms of accent shaking his smooth surface. A royal melody accompanied their dance, as they wheeled round each other like birds, the patih always in obeisance, continually bending very low before his master and sometimes sinking completely to the ground on one knee, with the other leg widely extended. And all the time they dialogued mutely with their hands, and the pale and darker face glanced swiftly to and fro, listening to the harsh interpolations of the penasar.

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