s a greasy and affable personage, whose temper was
as easy as his morals. He was more soft-hearted than most of his
compatriots, and he honestly liked Arithelli and admired her riding.

"What have you there, Mademoiselle?" he enquired pathetically. "Never
have I seen you like this before. You fear the grand people, is it not
so? You have no heart, no courage! But again! Again!"

In the midst of his exhortation the Manager descended suddenly upon the
scene. As a matter of fact he had been watching for the last ten
minutes from one of the entrances, and he had seen her failure to
accomplish her jumps successfully.

"This won't do for to-night," he said angrily. "We want your best
work, not your worst. Do you suppose I'm going to stand your laziness?"

Arithelli was sitting at ease upon Don Juan's back as he paced slowly
round the ring. She did not look up or answer, which enraged the
Manager still further. Her silence was one of the things about her
that always annoyed him most? She was the only woman he had never been
able to bully into a state of collapse.

He turned on the ring-master, who was grinning to himself.

"_Allez-vous en_! I'll see to this."

Senor Valdez looked uncomfortable. For an instant he felt almost
inclined to expostulate on Arithelli's behalf, but the Manager's rages
were well known to his employes, and the little man had no intention of
losing his present position. He flung down his long whip, and retired
muttering vengeance.

The Manager strode into the centre of the ring, picked up the lash and
drew it through his fingers.

He swore at Arithelli, he swore at Don Juan, and he started the
rehearsal all over again.

Arithelli clenched her teeth and rode doggedly forward. The arena swam
before her, and her limbs felt weak and heavy as those of one who is
drugged, and her lacerated hand added to her difficulties. That she
should presume to be ill, had not entered into the Manager's
calculations. If he had realised the fact he would have said that
people who were ill were of no use in a circus, and the sooner she left
it the better.

The treadmill continued until Arithelli would have welcomed an accident
as a break in the grinding monotony. The exercise instead of making
her hot, had made her shiver as if with great cold. She felt as if she
had been practising for days instead of hours. It was of no use! She
could not go on any longer. She slipped from her standing po