In five minutes all the population of Saint AmÉ was on the Square, for in these Lorraine villages amusements are rare. They were watching the erection of an enormous shed covered with canvas and strange pictures. An enormous handbill with letters that could be read a hundred feet off, bore most astonishing inscriptions. At the top was Iron Jaws, who held enormous weights with his teeth. The Giantess, who ate raw pigeons, or any other fowl that was most convenient. The wonderful Almanzor (that was Robeccal,) a descendant of the Moors of Spain, crushed glass with his teeth and swallowed swords. Then there was Caillette, the rope-dancer, who charmed the world with her voice, as well as with her aerial lightness. And lastly, in letters of the same length as those which Gudel used for himself, came Fanfar's name.

"FANFAR! FANFAR! FANFAR!
"Strength, Skill, Dexterity.
"He knows everything. He can do everything!"

And finally, there was a representation of a human pyramid, at the top of which was Caillette, all smiles, and a flower in her hand.

The good peasants were naturally delighted with all this.

Iron Jaws, with his hands in his pockets, was marching up and down, giving his orders like a general at the head of an army. Suddenly he called,

"Bobichel!"

Between two pictures, one of which was a lion devouring a crocodile, appeared the clown's head, grinning from ear to ear. He was so utterly grotesque that the crowd shrieked with laughter.

Bobichel's name did not appear on the handbill. It had been omitted to leave more room for that of his friend Fanfar, and Gudel had called him to introduce him, so to speak, to the crowd.

Fanfar and Caillette were alone. He was trying the ropes of the trapeze, while she was giving some finishing touches to the interior decoration. Suddenly, she stopped and looked up at Fanfar, who was swinging from a wooden bar. An artist would have been struck with the beauty of his figure.

Caillette watched him breathlessly as he went through his exercises, and as he dropped at last on the floor, so lightly that his feet scarcely left their imprint, she threw both arms around his neck.

"How bad you are!" she cried, "you frighten me half out of my wits."

"Frighten you, child! Are you not yet accustomed to my exercises, little sister?"

Caillette colored, and half turned away.

"Why do you call me little sister?" she said.

Fanfar dropped her hands, which he had taken from his neck. A cloud passed swiftly over his brow.

"Because we have been brought up together," he answered, slowly. "You were not more than six years old when your father took me into his service. But does it vex you for me to call you sister?"

"No, it does not vex me, but I would rather you did not."

Fanfar understood her, and was disturbed. He had long since seen in the girl a growing passion for himself. Her innocence and purity were exquisite, but at the same time she loved Fanfar. He did not love her. He would have given his life for her, but he did not wish to spend it with her, and at the thought of Caillette as his wife he drew back. He now disengaged himself gently from her clinging arms.

"To work!" he said, "it is growing late."

Caillette took up her needle, as the door opened to admit Gudel. He was not alone, two ladies of aristocratic bearing were with him.

"But, my dear IrÈne, this is a strange caprice," said the elder of the two. "What will the Countess say?"

"My dear Madame Ursula, it would oblige me if you would cease your moans, that is, unless you should prefer to return to the chÂteau alone!"

The dear Madame Ursula was a tall, thin woman, wearing blue glasses. She was evidently a companion or governess.

IrÈne, in her riding-habit, looked about twenty. Her hair was jet black, and curled over a marble white brow. Her hat, Louis XIII. in shape, with curling plumes, gave a haughty expression to her dainty features. She looked as if she might have stepped from out the frame of one of the pictures of Velasquez. Her beauty was striking. Fanfar grasped it, Caillette studied it.

"Pray tell me," said the young lady to Gudel, "if you have no seats where I can avoid contact with the crowd? I am ready to pay any sum you ask."

"Oh! we have but one price, ten sous."

The governess uttered a small gasp, and the young girl shrugged her shoulders impatiently.

She drew out a handful of gold pieces from her bag.

"Take these," she said, "and do the best you can for me."

Gudel was puzzled and troubled.

"Fanfar!" he called, "have you time to construct a sort of private box for these ladies?"

Fanfar advanced, and when Caillette saw the admiring gaze he riveted on the stranger, she clenched her little hands.

"I don't think I quite understand," he said.

IrÈne replied:

"It is a very simple matter. I desire to be present at your exhibition, and I do not care to mingle with the vulgar herd."

Fanfar listened to these words very coldly, and then said:

"What you ask is impossible."

"I don't know about that," interposed Gudel, quickly. "I think a private box could be quickly made with a few boards—"

"Only I refuse to make it," said Fanfar.

"You refuse?"

IrÈne started. Caillette smiled and blushed.

"And may I know why?" asked the stranger, with a disdainful smile. "Why does——" She hesitated for the name. Fanfar supplied it. "Why does Monsieur Fanfar refuse to gain a few louis for his master?"

"Not his master," said Gudel, hastily.

"Let me speak," interrupted Fanfar. "I will explain to the lady. Our public are bourgeois and common folk who support us, and bring us success. Their hands are large, but they applaud well. They are good people, and I do not wish to humiliate them. To do what you ask would wound them deeply."

IrÈne listened, with a frown.

Gudel retreated to the background where he indulged in a silent laugh.

Fanfar waited, calmly.

"This is a lesson you read me?" she said, at last.

"No, Mademoiselle, it is only advice. Make yourself beloved by these peasants. I have much to do, and pray that you will excuse me."

He bowed, and was about to retire.

"Monsieur Fanfar," said IrÈne, "you are right, and I thank you."

Then, turning to Gudel, she asked him with bewitching grace to retain two seats for her.

"Certainly, and the best. Will we not, Fanfar?"

The young man met IrÈne's eyes, and started.

"Will you give these few louis to the poor?" added IrÈne, "and I will accept two seats gratefully."