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at Borek, faltering in the pas de bourré, generally infuriating both her company and her orchestra by erratic, ill-tempered behavior. She was so great an artist that from the front these demonstrations passed unnoticed, but Borek and Weiss and the maitre de ballet were all in turn exasperated by her tantrums.

When the ballet was over and she had taken her call, she went at once to her dressing-room and slammed the door, as though she wished to be rid of them all. She was sullen, then, and would not answer when Marie spoke to her, but ten minutes later she apparently determined to make a scene with some one or other, for she flung on her dressing-gown and left the room without saying where she was going.

She was white, thin-lipped, blazing with exhausted rage. Her frantic feet carried her straight to Borek's dressingroom, and it was there, on the very threshold, that she halted, for the door of Borek's room was open, and inside the room she could hear the soft cajoling murmur of Carlotta Rosa's voice. Lina immediately ceased to be the great, the affronted, the magniücent Varsovina, and became at once nothing more or less than an exceedingly inquisitive woman. She peered curiously through the door, straight into Borek's mirror.

Rosa and Borek stood reflected together in full view of the intruder. Rosa was stretching on tiptoe toward her lover, and her arms were locked about his neck. He was bending toward her, smiling, confident, amorous. As Lina watched, they kissed, clinging together with a kind of clumsy joyous affection that showed only too clearly how intimate they had become. Then Borek laughed and ruffled Rosa's tawny hair. But Rosa was serious; she said in French, evidently resuming an argument:

"Mais ü ne faut pas! The more you give in to her the more impossible she will become! After all, you are