her bar the gilded rail of a circus wagon. Here, with solemn concentration, she devoted such time as was her own to fouettés and arabesques and entrechats.
"Silly," said Nurdo with disdain.
"What do you want? To be a dancer? There is no place in the circus for dancers. You are very silly. Why not learn the bar or the flying rings?"
But here her physique, always misleading, was against her. Her narrow body, her thin slight arms and legs gave an impression of delicacy altogether incongruous in an aspiring athlete. Old Rambert said to Nurdo in German:
"That girl of yours will never make an acrobat—why not leave her alone? One breath of wind and she would be blown off the trapeze. She has arms like sticks, and no muscle. She is a pretty dancer; let her dance."
And so she danced, and nobody paid much attention to her, and she continued to make friends with the animals in the menagerie, and shared a house on wheels with Nurdo, the juggler, and was scolded for coldness when he feit amorously inclined, and mended his soeks, and understood very little indeed what it was all about.
The circus dragged its way through Italy into France. In Lille a clown's wife drew her aside and said:
"You should watch that man of yours. He is so strange lately that one can only think he is drinking. Why do you not look after him?"
There was nothing strange to Paulina in the fact of any one drinking too much. It did not seem to her to be worth mentioning. She said as much, and added:
"It is because of his new trick. He won't teil me about it, but he practises all the time, even at night. He wouldn't listen to me, although I begged him not to."
The clown's wife laughed.
"You are very ignorant of the circus, ma petite. A