he 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 "Fatalite."

She nodded by way of assent and bent down to gather up her habit.

The ring-master was only a few feet away, and they could never be
certain as to who was to be trusted.

Vardri stood looking after her as she walked away with her head well up
and her shoulders thrown back as usual.

The two had become good friends with the comradeship induced by the
similarity in their misfortunes.

Both were young, reckless and without money beyond what they earned,
though, whereas Arithelli had been more or less tricked into her
present position, Vardri had been infatuated with the Cause from the
time he was old enough to take an interest in anything. The worship of
the goddess Liberty had left with him room also for the adoration of a
human being, and in a boyish chivalrous way he had tried to make things
easier for Arithelli.

He managed to bring her occasional flowers and music out of his
starvation wages, and was always jealously careful of the way in which
her horses were groomed and turned out. They had a curious resemblance
to each other, and when Arithelli was dressed in boy's clothes for her
journeys up in the mountains, they might have been two brothers. One
was dark and the other fair, but both had the same haggard,
well-modelled faces, the same pale skins, and thin, supple figures.

They were exactly of a height, too, and when Arithelli disguised
herself, she pushed her red hair under a sombrero and black wig.

Even Sobrenski's lynx eyes had been at fault in the semi-darkness of
the hut, and he had sworn at her in mistake for Vardri. As the dresser
took off her habit, she asked the woman whether Monsieur Poleski had
been behind the scenes during her turn, and was there a note or message?

It appeared that there had been no sign of Emile, and she hesitated for
a moment, hardly knowing what to do.

The order for her presence in the Calle de Pescadores, which of course
had been sent by Sobrenski, had told her to come at once.

On the other hand, Emile had always told her to wait for him in her