blown in upon her by a sudden wind. "Now I remember too. Ze good
Moretti. She ride old Arabesque. 'E 'ave white spots all over 'im--on
'is chest and what you call 'is paws, and every evening she 'ave to
paint 'im like she paint 'er face. Madame Moretti--that was a good
sort--_bonne enfant_--what you say?--domestic--not really of ze Circus
at all. She like to wash up and cook leetle _bonnes-bouches_ for
supper. She was a German--Fredechen we call 'er--and she could make
Sauerkraut--_eh bien_, I--_moi qui vous parle_--_une bonne
Francaise_--I make myself sick with 'er Sauerkraut. Afterwards she
grow too stout and marry ze _proprietaire_ of what you call it?--a
public-'ouse--'Ze Crown and Garter' at some town where we stop a week.
By now, I think she 'ave many children and a chin for each."

Cosgrave laughed noisily.

"Didn't I tell you, Robert? A barmaid!"

"Yes--you had better taste." But he was hot with anger. "And then you
came at her heels, Mademoiselle. You rode--what was it--a donkey, a
fat pony? I forget which. Perhaps I was thinking too much of Madame
Moretti. But I remember you were dressed as a page and wore coloured
tights that didn't fit very well, and that everybody laughed because of
your thin long legs. And you threw kisses to us--even Cosgrave got
one, didn't you, Cosgrave? And then I'm afraid I forgot you
altogether. You see, there were camels and elephants and a legless
Wonder and I don't know what, and it was my first circus."

"It must 'ave been a donkey," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I 'ave
ridden so many donkeys."