I am not sure whether the spectators regarded
the tableau as I did, but to me it seemed an
allegorical representation of man and his master.

The hard breathing of a person close behind
me now made me turn my head, and I saw the
gaoler, who had come with my supper. A
thought flashed suddenly across me. "Go
down to those mountebanks and ask if they will
sell that cream-coloured pony," said I.
"Bargain as though you wanted him for yourself—
he is old and of little value, and you may
perhaps secure him for eighty or ninety florins,
and if so, you shall have ten more for your
pains. It is a caprice of mine, nothing more,
but help me to gratify it"

He heard me out with evident astonishment,
and then gravely asked if I had forgotten the
circumstance that I was a prisoner, and likely
to remain so for some time.

"Do as I bade you," said I, " and leave the
result to me. There, lose no more time about it,
for I see the performance is drawing to a close."

"Nay, nay," said he; " the best of all is yet
to come. The pretty Moorish girl has not yet
appeared. Ha! here she is."

As he spoke he crept up into the window
beside me, not less eager for the spectacle than
myself. A vigorous cheer and a loud clapping
of hands below announced that the favourite was
in sight long before she was visible to our eyes.

"What can she do" asked I, peevishly
perhaps, for I was provoked how completely she
had eclipsed poor Blondel in public favour.
"What can she do? Is she a rope-dancer, or
does she ride in the games of the ring?"

"There, there! Look at her—yonder she goes!
and there's the young prince—they call him a
prince, at least—who follows her everywhere."

I could not but smile at the poor gaoler's
simplicity, and would willingly have explained
to him that we have outlived the age of
Cinderellas. Indeed, I had half turned towards
him with this object, when a perfect roar of the
crowd beneath me drew off my attention from
him to what was going on below. I soon saw
what it was that entranced the public: it was
the young girl, who now, standing on Blondel's
back, was careering round the circle at full
speed. It is an exercise in which neither the
horse nor the rider are seen to advantage; the
heavy monotonous tramp of the beast, cramped
by the narrow limits, becomes a stilty, wooden
gallop. The rider, too, more careful of her
balance than intent upon graceful action,
restricts herself to a few, and by no means
picturesque, attitudes. With all this, the girl
now before me seemed herself so intensely to
enter into the enjoyment of the scene, that all
her gestures sprang out of a sort of irrepressible
delight. Far from unsteadying her foot, or
limiting her action, the speed of the horse
appeared to assist the changeful bendings of her
graceful figure, as now, dropping on one knee,
would lean over to caress him, or now,
standing erect, with folded arms and leg
advanced, appear to dare him to displace her.
Faultlessly graceful as she was, there was that
in her own evident enjoyment that imparted a
strange delight to the beholder, and gave to
the spectacle the sort of magnetism by which
pleasure finds its way from heart to heart
throughout a multitude. At least, I suppose
this must have been so, for in the joyous cheering
of that crowd there was a ring of wild
delight far different from mere applause.

At last, poor Blondel, blown and wearied,
turned abruptly into the middle of the ring, and
with panting sides and shaking tail came to a
dead halt. The girl, with a graceful slide,
seated herself on his back and patted him
playfully. And to me this was by far the most
graceful movement of the whole.

It was really a picture! and so natural and so
easy withal, that one forgot all about her spangles
and tinsel, the golden fillet of her hair, and the
tawdry fringe of her sandals; and, what was
even harder still, heard not the hoarse-mouthed
enthusiasm that greeted her. At length, a tall
man, well dressed and of striking appearance,
pushed his way into the ring, and politely
presented her with a bouquet, at which piece of
courtesy the audience, noways jealous, again
redoubled their applause. She now looked round
her with an air of triumphant pleasure, and
while, with a playful gesture, she flung back the
ringlets on her neck, she lifted her face full to
my view, and it was Tintefleck! With all my
might I cried out, "Catinka! Catinka!" I
know not why, but the impulse never waited to
argue the question. Though I screamed my
loudest, the great height at which I was placed,
and the humming din of the crowd, totally
drowned my words. Again and again I tried
it, but to no purpose. There she sat, slowly
making the round of the circus, while the
stranger walked at her side, to all seeming
conversing as though no busy and prying multitude
stood watching and observing them. Wearied
with my failure to attract notice, I turned to
address the gaoler, but he had already gone and
I was alone. I next endeavoured by a signal to
call attention to me, and, at last, saw how two
or three of the crowd had observed my waving
handkerchief and were pointing it out to others.
Doubtless they wondered how a poor captive
could care for the pleasant follies of a life of
whose commonest joys he was to be no sharer,
and still greater was their astonishment as I
flung forth a piece of money—a gold Napoleon
it was—which they speedily caught up and gave
to Catinka. How I watched her as she took it
and showed it to the stranger. He, by his
gesture, seemed angry, and made a motion as though
asking her to throw it away; and then there
seemed some discussion between them, and his
petulance increased; and she, too, grew
passionate, and, leaping from the horse, strode
haughtily across the circus and disappeared.
And then arose a tumult and confusion, the mob
shouting madly for the Moorish girl to come
back, and many much disposed to avenge her
absence on the stranger. As for him, he pushed
the mob haughtily aside and went his way,
and though for a while the crowd continued to