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fall of Varsovina, and there was no time to explain these matters to him, for he changed the subject. He said:

"Has she any family?"

"She has a son. Is she then so ?"

"It would be as well to send him a message by telegraph. Yes, she is hopelessly ill. She was never in any condition to stand the climate out here—she's worn out, exhausted, and her heart is failing. It's the heart, in fact, that makes her case so grave. Had it not been for that she might possibly have recovered from the fever. I will send over a Sister from the hospital to nurse her."

But Varsovina did not require any prolonged services of this nature. It was as though, having determined to slip away from life, the will to do so persisted even in her delirium; she could scarcely wait to be free. She fretted for release.

She sank rapidly during the night, and was mostly unconscious. But there were occasional brief interludes of delirium. Once she imagined herself at Fontainebleau, and called for Guy to come and see the chestnut blossom with her. Then she was with Eitel Gustav in the pavilion of the royal castle at Brandenstein. And then, just before midday, she was a ballerina, moving her thin arms in the gestures of the Ondine or the Snow Bird. And thus her wish was realized, for soon after this interval her tired heart quietly ceased to beat, and it was as a dancer, not as a woman, that Varsovina died.

And the members of her company, even those who had hated her, were stunned, dismayed, awestruck like frightened children when they were told by Weiss that her life was ended. Their own world, they feit, was ended too; it was as though a great dark cloud had passed before the sun and dimmed the day.

Lina Varsovina died in 1876 at the town of San Pablo