Blanche turned her head away. "If anything should happen," she said
quietly, "the--the little one--I should like my mother to take her."
Mrs. Tate began to breathe hard; but she burst out laughing. "You silly
child! Of course; I shall look after Jeanne anyway. Don't you worry
about _her_. Now I must hurry out to that husband of mine. He'll be
furious with me for keeping him waiting so long."
A few moments before Blanche appeared in the ring, Jules returned to the
dressing-room, resplendent in his evening clothes, with three diamonds
gleaming on his shirt-front, and carrying a bouquet of white roses.
"These are just like the roses I bought for you the night I met you. I
selected them this afternoon, and they've just come. You must wear them
in your belt, as you did then," he said, as she flushed with pleasure
and thanked him. "I remember how tickled I was when I saw them; and oh,
how I hated Pelletier when you took them out and gave them to him to
hold, while you were going through your act."
Then, as she adjusted the flowers in her belt, he went on: "It's the
biggest house of the season! Marshall says you're the best attraction he
ever had. Ready?" he asked, surveying Blanche as she stood in her white
silk tights. "You look just as you did when I first saw you," he added,
putting one hand on her cheek and kissing her lightly on the other.
"Come along."
Then he threw over her the robe she always wore on her way to the ring,
and they hurried from the room. As Blanche ran out on the net and heard
the applause of the vast audience, she felt a thrill of joy and an
intoxicating sense of her own power. All fear seemed to leave her, and
she laughed as she climbed hand over hand to the trapeze. From trapeze
to trapeze she shot with delight; she had never felt so sure of herself,
so exultant. When she returned to the net, Jules, who had taken his
place at the rope, whispered to her: "You're in great form to-night.
Keep it up."
She was smiling as she started on her long climb to the top of the
building. But when she had taken her place on the beam from which she
was to make her plunge and looked down at the black mass in the
distance, her strength seemed suddenly to leave her. Her fingers
tightened on the beam, as if she felt afraid of losing her balance. Then
she heard her husband's voice ring through the place, crying the
familiar warning. She knew the moment had come for making the plunge;
but she continued motionless. She felt as if her will had become
suddenly paralyzed, and a moment later, as if her body were frozen.
The black mass below seemed to dance before her, then to beckon to her,
and in her ears she kept hearing the voice of little Jeanne and the
sound of her laughter. Oh, she had known that this moment would come
some time; she had known it ever since Jeanne was born. But she could
not sit there forever; the crowd below was waiting to see her fall. If
she did not make an effort she should lose her self-control and go
plunging into the blackness. She must lift her hands and gather herself
together, and hurl herself out as she had always done. But she had no
strength; she could only lift her arms weakly. Then she tried to give
her body the necessary impetus, and she plunged wildly into the air.
There was a cry of horror from the crowd, and a moment later the white
figure lay motionless in the net. The people rose from their seats and
rushed toward the ring. The police tried to drive them back as Jules
leaped into the net and seized the prostrate body in his arms.
"Keep them back," he cried frantically, not realizing that he was
speaking French. "She must have air." Then, turning, he said: "Blanche!
Blanche! Can't you speak? Open your eyes so I may know you aren't dead."
He was terrified by the way her head fell back from her shoulders. "We
must get her out of this," he said desperately, to two of the circus men
who had followed him on the net, as he glanced down at the struggling
mass beneath him. "Bring her to her dressing-room. Make those people get
out of the way."
With difficulty they bore her through the crowd. Some one threw her
cloak over her as she passed. She gave no sign of life, but the
expression in Jules' face showed that he still hoped. When they reached
her room, they placed her on the floor, and Jules closed the door to
keep out the crowd. Madeleine, who had been ringing her hands and
moaning, quickly loosened the tight bodice. Then the door was forced
open again, and Marshall entered with a physician, who quickly bent over
the prostrate figure and listened for the heart-beat.
"She's dead," he said quietly.
Jules threw himself on the body in a paroxysm of despair.