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Chapter 10

"No, no," Paulina protested. "You don't understand. I will 'never go back to him. I don't like lnm any more and I'm af raid of him. Next time he will assuredly kill

me." . i , -n

"But my poor child, if you leave the circus, what wüi

you do? How will you earn your bread;

She said confidingly: "I shall be a dancer, as you told

me last night."

He was silent. This was more awful even than he had supposed. He muttered something incoherent to the effect that there was no vacancy at the school in Milan. He added, as she stared at him incredulously:

"And this juggler, this poor fellow who no doubt loves you in his own primitive fashion, are you really preparea to abandon him in this impetuous way?"

She burst into tears, and feil on her knees before him. "I can never go back to Nurdo! I am so af raid of hirrü And he doesn't love me any more, please believe that!"

Rosing again began to walk up and down the room. Paulina continued to sob. At last he turned to her and pointed to a portrait that hung abovetfie mantelpiece. "Look, my child, do you see that picture?"

Paulina looked, blinking through her tears. The portrait, which was painted in oils, represented an oliveskinned young man in fantastic eighteenth-century costume, and silver peruke, who postured daintily, one mincing foot thrust before the other.

"A dancer," she commented, her voice choked with

"Yes, a dancer. Rosing. Myself, when I danced in