The stablemen and helpers were all delighted to see her again, and in token of their satisfaction presented her with a hideous and unwieldy bouquet, in which all colours were arranged together so as to give the effect of a kaleidoscope. They liked her for her sweet temper and invariable courtesy, and respected her for her knowledge of horses.
Estelle came and embraced her and was voluble over the failings of her "bon ami," the sardonic manager.
Arithelli received a hearty round of applause as she rode into the ring on her favourite "Don Juan," whose wavy tail and mane were decorated with turquoise ribbons that matched her habit.
At least she was happy on horseback, and she loved the animals and they her.
Even the performing sheep and monkey, and the toothless lion came in for a share in her affections. She had a new and difficult trick to go through that night, but this particular sort of danger only made her feel exhilarated.
Emile's stories of blood and horrors had sickened her, but the chance of breaking her neck over a high jump held no terrors.
She made her exit, gaily waving her silver-handled whip, and Vardri, who was standing at the entrance of the ring, came forward quickly to lift her off her horse before the groom could reach her.
"You're wanted to-night in the Calle de Pescadores," he whispered, as she rested her hand on his shoulder to jump down. "As soon as possible, and go in carefully—there's a scare about spies."
He felt her body stiffen and the little smile that came so rarely died in an instant, leaving her once more "Fatalité."
She nodded by way of assent and bent down to gather up her habit.