rived. It will be less trouble,
Fatalite, _ma chere_. With the other thing there are always
complications. No, I'm not accusing you of falling in love with Vardri.
I only say, be careful. Even an elf-child can develop suddenly into a
woman once she arrives at a knowledge of the fact that there is a man
ready to make love to her. Perhaps you do not know it yourself, but you
have changed lately. You are losing your fearlessness, your
indifference. I have watched you sometimes when you have not known, and
have seen your eyes soften, your face change. You started when I spoke
just now."

"How did you learn things about women? From books?"

"Books? _Ma foi_, no! I liked them well enough at one time, when I
hadn't studied _la vie_. Now they're _fade_."

Arithelli was silent for a little while. She knew only too well that
Emile had spoken the truth, had put into blunt words what to herself was
only a vague, half-formed idea. Her illness had been Vardri's golden
harvest time, for it had given him the chance of being often alone with
her. He had read to her, waited upon her, served her with the utmost
chivalry and devotion. He had made of her a Madonna, a goddess, she who
was fair game for all other men in Barcelona.

Emile's voice broke in upon her meditations.

"You shouldn't worry, Fatalite. It's not becoming. Have a cigarette to
make yourself a little distraction."

She shook her head.

"No, thank you, Emile. I never wanted to smoke, and any way it would not
give me a distraction to-night."

"Then what are you worrying about?"

"I've only been wondering what will be the end of me."

"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,