I listened to him almost indifferently, saying that I was very glad for the governor's sake, and continued to wash a deep scratch on my left arm, using salt water to allay the irritation left by Acha's closely pared claws--the vixen.

But the scratch had not poisoned me; I was in fine physical condition; rehearsals had kept us all in trim; our animals, too, were in good shape; and the machinery started without a creak when, an hour later, Byram himself opened the box-office at the tent-door and began to sell tickets to an immense crowd for the first performance, which was set for two o'clock that afternoon.

I had had an unpleasant hour's work with the lions, during which Marghouz, a beast hitherto lazy and docile, had attempted to creep behind me. Again I had betrayed irritation; again the lions saw it, understood it, and remembered. Acha tore my sleeve; when I dragged Timour Melek's huge jaws apart he endured the operation patiently, but as soon as I gave the signal to retire he sprang snarling to the floor, mane on end, and held his ground, just long enough to defy me.

Poor devils! Who but I knew that they were right and I was wrong! Who but I understood what lack of freedom meant to the strong--meant to caged creatures, unrighteously deprived of liberty! Though born in captivity, wild things change nothing; they sleep by day, walk by night, follow as well as they can the instincts which a caged life cannot crush in them, nor a miserable, artificial existence obliterate.

They are right to resist.

I mentioned something of this to Speed as I was putting on my coat to go out, but he only scowled at me, saying: "Your usefulness as a lion-tamer is ended, my friend; you are a fool to enter that cage again, and I'm going to tell Byram."

"Don't spoil the governor's pleasure now," I said, irritably; "the old man is out there selling tickets with both hands, while little Griggs counts receipts in a stage whisper. Let him alone, Speed; I'm going to give it up soon, anyway--not now--not while the governor has a chance to make a little money; but soon--very soon. You are right; I can't control anything now--not even myself. I must give up my lions, after all."

"When?" said Speed.

"Soon--I don't know. I'm tired--really tired. I want to go home."

"Home! Have you one?" he asked, with a faint sneer of surprise.

"Yes; a rather extensive lodging, bounded east and west by two oceans, north by the lakes, south by the gulf. Landlord's a relation--my Uncle Sam."

"Are you really going home, Scarlett?" he asked, curiously.

"I have nothing to keep me here, have I?"

"Not unless you choose to settle down and ... marry."

I looked at him; presently my face began to redden; and, "What do you mean?" I asked, angrily.

He replied, in a very mild voice, that he did not mean anything that might irritate me.

I said, "Speed, don't mind my temper; I can't seem to help it any more; something has changed me, something has gone wrong."

"Perhaps something has gone right," he mused, looking up at the flying trapeze, where Jacqueline swung dangling above the tank, watching us with sea-blue eyes.

After a moment's thought I said: "Speed, what the devil do you mean by that remark?"

"Now you're angry again," he said, wearily.

"No, I'm not. Tell me what you mean."

"Oh, what do you imagine I mean?" he retorted. "Do you think I'm blind? Do you suppose I've watched you all these years and don't know you? Am I an a.s.s, Scarlett? Be fair; am I?"

"No; not an a.s.s," I said.

"Then let me alone--unless you want plain speaking instead of a bray."

"I do want it."

"Which?"

"You know; go on."

"Am I to tell you the truth?"

"As you interpret it--yes."

"Very well, my friend; then, at your respectful request, I beg to inform you that you are in love with Madame de Va.s.sart--and have been for months."

I did not pretend surprise; I knew he was going to say it. Yet it enraged me that he should think it and say it.

"You are wrong," I said, steadily.

"No, Scarlett; I am right."

"You are wrong," I repeated.

"Don't say that again," he retorted. "If you do not know it, you ought to. Don't be unfair; don't be cowardly. Face it, man! By Heaven, you've got to face it some time--here, yonder, abroad, on the ocean, at home--no matter where, you've got to face it some day and tell yourself the truth!"

His words hurt me for a moment; then, as I listened, that strange apathy once more began to creep over me. Was it really the truth he had told me? Was it? Well--and then? What meaning had it to me?... Of what help was it?... of what portent?... of what use?... What door did it unlock? Surely not the door I had closed upon myself so many years ago!

Something of my thoughts he may have divined as I stood brooding in the sunny tent, staring listlessly at my own shadow on the floor, for he laid his hand on my shoulder and said: "Surely, Scarlett, if happiness can be reborn in Paradise, it can be reborn here. I know you; I have known you for many years. And in all that time you have never fallen below my ideal!"

"What are you saying, Speed?" I asked, rousing from my lethargy to shake his hand from my shoulder.

"The truth. In all these years of intimacy, familiarity has never bred contempt in me; I am not your equal in anything; it does not hurt me to say so. I have watched you as a younger brother watches, lovingly, jealous yet proud of you, alert for a failing or a weakness which I never found--or, if I thought I found a flaw in you, knowing that it was but part of a character too strong, too generous for me to criticise."

"Speed," I said, astonished, "are you talking about me--about _me_--a mountebank--and a failure at that? You know I'm a failure--a n.o.body--" I hesitated, touched by his kindness. "Your loyalty to me is all I have. I wish it were true that I am such a man as you believe me to be."

"It is true," he said, almost sullenly. "If it were not, no man would say it of you--though a woman might. Listen to me, Scarlett. I tell you that a man shipwrecked on the world's outer rocks--if he does not perish--makes the better pilot afterwards."

"But ... I perished, Speed."

"It is not true," he said, violently; "but you will if you don't steer a truer course than you have. Scarlett, answer me!"

"Answer you? What?"

"Are you in love?"

"Yes," I said.

He waited, looked up at me, then dropped his hands in his pockets and turned away toward the interior of the tent where Jacqueline, having descended from the rigging, stood, drawing her slim fingers across the surface of the water in the tank.

I walked out through the tent door, threading my way among the curious crowds gathered not only at the box-office, but even around the great tent as far as I could see. Byram hailed me with jovial abandon, perspiring in his shirt-sleeves, silk hat on the back of his head; little Grigg made one of his most admired grimaces and shook the heavy money-box at me; Horan waved his hat above his head and pointed at the throng with a huge thumb. I smiled at them all and walked on.

Cloud and sunshine alternated on that capricious November morning; the sea-wind was warm; the tincture of winter had gone. On that day, however, I saw wavering strings of wild ducks flying south; and the little hedge-birds of different kinds were already flocking amiably together in twittering bands that filled the leafless blackthorns on the cliffs;--true prophets, all, of that distant cold, gathering somewhere in the violet north.

I walked fast across the moors, as though I had a destination. And I had; yet when I understood it I sheered off, only to turn again and stare fascinated in the direction of the object that frightened me.