It was nine o'clock and after.

The great show at Olympia was at its height; the packed house was roaring with delight over the daring equestrianship of "Mlle.

Marie de Zanoni," and the sound of the cheers rolled in to the huge dressing-tent, where the artists awaited their several turns, and the chevalier, in spangled trunks and tights, all ready for his call, sat hugging his child and shivering like a man with the ague.
"Come, come, buck up, man, and don't funk it like this," said Senor Sperati, who had graciously consented to assist him with his dressing because of the injury to his hand.

"The idea of you losing your nerve, you of all men, and because of a little affair like that.

You know very well that Nero is as safe as a kitten to-night, that he never has two smiling turns in the same week, much less the same day.