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There were so many new faces always on the road; why suppose that hers should be more vivid than the rest?

As she turned away, humbled by these inevitable reflections, she realized that her future memories of the Cirque Rambert would not include beauties of scenery, hardships of the road, the gay pageantry of the show or even the strange half-resentful love of Nurdo the juggler. No. Whenever she heard the name of the Cirque Rambert she would think instinctively, enviously, of the steaming vegetable soup ladled out to the members of the company on Saturday nights. And she wished fervently for a bowl of this soup, for she was by this time very hungry indeed.

She walked away, quite forgetting her belongings, which were still presumably scattered all over the circus.

"After all," she said to herself, "I was always the stupid one of the troupe. I had no talent for that sort of thing. What has a dancer to do with acrobats?"

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