he Spanish beauties, who promenaded there in an endless
stream, with waving fans and rustling draperies, carnations and roses
burning in dark, elaborately dressed hair. Tziganes made wild, witch
music. At the _cafes_ people laughed and drank.

Suddenly Arithelli leant across the little table, raising her glass.
"To the Cause!" she whispered under her breath.

For an instant the two pairs of eyes flamed into each other; then those
of the man, hard and steel-grey, softened into something like
admiration. Their glasses clinked softly together. "To the Cause!" he
repeated. "_Mon Camarade_!"

CHAPTER IV

"These were things she came to know, and to take their measure,
When the play was played out so for one man's pleasure."
SWINBURNE.

A few days later, Arithelli was duly initiated, and given the badge of
the Cause, a massive buckle with a woman's figure, and on either side
the words _Honneur et Patrie_. At the suggestion of the leader Emile
had been made responsible for her behaviour. If she betrayed them in
any way his life was to pay forfeit. There was a fellow conspirator
working with her at the Hippodrome, a young Austrian of high rank named
Vardri. His father had turned him out of doors, penniless, because of
his political views; and he was now, half-starved, consumptive and
reckless, employed in harnessing the horses and attending to the
stables. There were two men under thirty, but the majority were
middle-aged. They all seemed to Arithelli to have the same wild,
restless eyes. They called her "_Camarade_," and "_Amigo_," and
treated her not unkindly, but with an utter indifference to her sex.
All their sayings showed the most absolute disregard for human life.

"If a vase is cracked, break it. If your glove is worn out, throw it
away."

If they heard that some member of the band had found his way to the
fortress of Montjuich there was callous laughter and a speculation as
to whose turn it would be next.

Their meetings were held in divers places. Sometimes they would engage
a room at the Hotel Catalonia and hold what were supposed to be classes
for astronomy. Sobrenski was the lecturer, the rest posing as
students. If anyone came in unexpectedly it all looked beautifully
innocent--the big telescope by the open window, the books and papers
and charts, and Arithelli at the desk at the end of the room taking
shorthand notes of the lecture.

There were seldom more than