retty broken
English. "Monsieur, may the good God in heaven forgive me if I wrong
her; but--but---- Ah, Monsieur Cleek, sometimes I feel that she, my
stepmother, and that man, that 'rider' who knows not how to ride as the
artist should, monsieur, I cannot help it, but I feel that they are at
the bottom of it."

"Yes, but why?" queried Cleek. "I have heard of your father's second
marriage, mademoiselle, and of this Signor Antonio Martinelli, to whom
you allude. Mr. Narkom has told me. But why should you connect these two
persons with this inexplicable thing. Does your father do so, too?"

"Oh, no! oh, no!" she answered excitedly. "He does not even know that we
suspect, Jim and I. He loves her, monsieur. It would kill him to doubt
her."

"Then why should you?"

"Because I cannot help it, monsieur. God knows, I would if I could, for
I care for her dearly, I am grateful to her for making my father happy.
My brothers, too, cared for her. We believed she loved him; we believed
it was because of that that she married him. And yet--and yet---- Ah,
monsieur, how can I fail to feel as I do when this change in the lion
came with that man's coming? And she--ah, monsieur, why is she always
with him? Why does she curry favour of him and his rich friend?"

"He has a rich friend, then?"

"Yes, monsieur. The company was in difficulties; Monsieur van Zant, the
proprietor, could not make it pay, and it was upon the point of
disbanding. But suddenly this indifferent performer, this rider who is,
after all, but a poor amateur and not fit to appear with a company of
trained artists, suddenly this Signor Martinelli comes to Monsieur van
Zant to say that, if he will engage him, he has a rich friend, one Senor
Sperati, a Brazilian coffee planter, who will 'back' the show with his
money and buy a partnership in it. Of course M. van Zant accepted; and
since then this Senor Sperati has travelled everywhere with us, has had
the entree like one of us, and his friend, the bad rider, has fairly
bewitched my stepmother, for she is ever with him, ever with them both,
and--and---- Ah, mon Dieu! the lion smiles, and my people die! Why does
it 'smile' for no others? Why is it only they, my father, my brother,
they alone?"

"Is that a fact?" said Cleek, turning to young Scarmelli. "You say that
all connected with the circus have so little fear of the beast that even
attendants sometimes do this foolhardy trick? Does the lion never
'smile' for any o