"What has made you suddenly become so anxious about your end?" Emile looked at her keenly.
The wide eyes raised to his were tragedy incarnate. The long nervous fingers were tightly locked together.
"I'm a coward to-night," the soft hoarse voice went on. "I've never grumbled before, have I, Emile? I seem to have suddenly realised how hopeless everything looks for me in the future. I've had time enough to think it all out since I've been lying in bed. When I first came here I thought I was going to do all sorts of wonderful things, but now I see that this life leads to nothing, and I may go on being just a circus rider for years. When I get well and finish out this contract I shall have to try and get another engagement in Paris or Vienna. The English Consul and all the other men wait to see me come out, and throw me flowers and rings, but when they see me driving with you in the Paséo de Gracia, they look the other way, especially if they are with their wives and families. They like 'ARITHELLI OF THE HIPPODROME' in her proper place,—the ring. Gas and glare, paint and glitter! That is my life. And they always hope that I shall fall off. I can feel it. It's the Roman arena all over again. For a long time before I had that accident I didn't know how to get through the rehearsals. I nearly fell off two or three times, but there was no one there to see. The more I practised the more cold I got, and I used to have horrible shivering fits. It's so queer. I don't believe I'm made like other people. Estelle gets hot and scarlet when she practises."
"Poor little child!"
"Why are you so nice to me? You've never said anything like that before."
"Because if when you first came here I had begun to pity you it would have made you realise your position sooner than need be. You were like one in a dream. It was not my place to awaken you. I left that for Life, 'la vie' that you were so anxious to experience. You made yourself 'Chateaux en Espagne.' We all do that at some time or other."
"Nobody really cares what becomes of me except—" she broke off the sentence and continued steadily. "My people don't mind whether I am here or not. They won't like it if I come back a failure."
In his heart Emile cursed the Fates. Her awakening had been a complete one. At first novelty and excitement had served as merciful anaesthetics, but they could not last for ever.
He was not in love with her, he still told himself, but he would miss her. Women like the Roumanoff were the women to whom men made passionate love, but Arithelli was unique. She had become part of his life in Barcelona. Their lives had touched and mingled till it was impossible to believe that he had only known her for a few short months. A future without her would be one without interest. For her he could see no future. She would have to go to the devil some way or another eventually, and there would be plenty of people ready and willing to provide her with an escort.
He threw away his cigarette, and came across the room to her, and his hands fell heavily upon her shoulders.