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covered with linoleum, made the dancers' feet burn like fire, where the surfaces of these same stages were perilously uneven, where the subterranean dressing-rooms disclosed themselves as evil-smelling kennels with broken window-panes, and where the audiences were still primitive enough to insist that the abbreviated skirts of the dancers were a sign of Parisian indecency. At first, until she grew accustomed to the one-night stands, they nearly killed her.

But always, wherever they were, in whatever strange and ugly town, in whatever primitive theater, she danced with all her heart and soul. These rustic conquests, often so awkwardly expressed, seemed odd indeed after the luscious adulation of European balletomanes, but she had trouped for twelve months with a traveling circus and understood instinctively, as Rosing never would, the mentality of the people for whom she was dancing.

"It is the hotels," Rosing sometimes complained, "the hotels and the food. These, I confess, defeat me. Ah, what barbarians!"

"The trains are worse," Lina insisted.

But she was so tired at night, when she boarded these same trains, that often she dropped off to sleep, like a collapsed doll, not even waking when her maid undressed her. She was frail and white and strained, but those who knew her best insisted that she was a creature of steel, tireless when they themselves were almost unconscious with fatigue.

Indeed, when the American tour was finished it was she herself who insisted upon accepting the offer made by Hiram P. Adams for a six months' whirlwind tour of Canada. Here conditions were, if anything, worse than those prevailing in the United States; in the big cities the arrangements made for the troupe were admirable, in the more remote regions there were hardships un-

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