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 "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.
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