ne a mile or
two out of the way, and one of the men had been thrown off and twisted
his ankle, and made another halt and delay. She drew the curtains
closely and lay down without undressing.

Before she slept she put her hand into her breast, and felt the rustle
of the thin paper on which Vardri's letter had been written.

It was not until the landlady had nearly battered down her door that
she stirred four hours later, and then she unfastened her blouse and
drew out instead of the original two sheets, only one.

She did not feel particularly alarmed; supposing it had been put with
the envelope that she had left about in the morning. Her things so
often got lost, and it was Emile who generally found them.

CHAPTER XIX

"Must a man have hope to fight?
Can a man not fight in despair?"
"A Polish Insurgent," JAMES THOMPSON.

How he lived through his last day in Barcelona Emile never quite knew.
A strong will, strong tobacco, and plenty of work were all aids in
helping him to preserve his sanity.

He soon arranged things with Sobrenski, and found no difficulty in
obtaining the post of messenger in the St. Petersburg affair.

He walked to the Hippodrome while the _matinee_ performance was in
progress, and left a message for Arithelli at the stage door.

Then he went back to his rooms in the Calle San Antonio, and began to
make the few necessary preparations for departure. He was not
encumbered with worldly goods, and his wardrobe was not extensive, so
there remained only to look through and destroy all documents, books,
or letters that could not be carried about or that might involve the
safety of others.

Certain songs and pieces of music he put together in a pile, the rest
he tore across and threw into a corner. He would have no need of these
amusements now. Cultivation of the fine arts is not encouraged in the
political prisons.

At five o'clock Arithelli entered the room, her clothes put on
carelessly, the grey pallor of intense weariness upon her face. She
had been working early and late during the past two days, and the
thought of the missing letter worried her from time to time. Sometimes
she felt almost certain that she had dropped it in changing from her
circus clothes, and that it had been appropriated out of curiosity by
one of the women who shared the dressing-room. As it was written in
English, they would probably throw it away at once in disgust, annoyed
at being de