d
hiss furiously the next.

As she stood alone, waiting, she glanced instinctively towards the
place where Emile always sat, and wished he had been there. He would
be angry with her if she failed, but she felt somehow that he would be
sorry for her as well. Perhaps he might even make excuses for her, for
he was the only person who knew about the episode of the previous
night, and her injured hand. Sometimes she had loved the swaying crowd
of human beings for whose amusement she risked her life and limbs. Now
she hated the eager watching faces. They only wanted to see her fall,
she told herself.

She ran blindly across the open space. The next instant she was on her
feet on the ground again and Don Juan had stopped short. Her upward
leap had carried her on to his back, but she had not been able to keep
her balance.

There was dead silence and then the hissing in the audience broke out,
vehement and unrestrained.

That she had pleased them hitherto went for nothing in her favour now.
She had been clumsy, ungraceful, had failed--that was enough.

Arithelli herself scarcely heard the sounds of execration, as she stood
swaying with one hand over her eyes to shut out the horrible glare.
She was conscious only of that and the strident noise of the band, and
the sensation of choking she had felt once before. The instinct of all
animals to hide themselves in the dark when ill, was strong upon her.

The fat little ring-master who alone had the sense to see there was
something wrong, advanced and spoke to her in an agitated whisper. She
gave him her hand and he led her out, leaving her hurriedly to go back
and apologise to the irate spectators, and to claim their indulgence on
the score of her sudden faintness.

* * * * * *

Would she ever get to her room, Arithelli wondered, as she struggled
down the passage. It had never seemed so long before. Her hand went
up to her throat again. She longed for something cool to drink to
relieve the aching and dryness. It must be caused by the heat and dust
of the ring, she thought.

A man's voice sounded behind her, and then hurrying footsteps. She
pulled her long blue cloak round her and went on without answering or
turning her head. It could only be the Manager coming to upbraid her.

An arm was flung round her protectingly and she turned with the face of
a hunted animal, and looked up into the wild dark eyes of Vardri.

"What has h