all at this time subject to her in heart and mind. They could think and
feel nothing except what concerned her, her art, and her fate. She could
and would show to Lienhard, to the Emperor, to all, what they had never
witnessed. They should turn faint with sympathizing anxiety. She would
make then realize what genuine art, skill, and daring could accomplish.
Everything else, even the desire for applause, was forgotten. Though her
performance might be called only a perilous feat, she felt it to be true,
genuine art. Her whole soul was merged in the desire to execute, boldly
and yet gracefully, the greatest and most perfect performance attainable
by a ropedancer. With beads of perspiration on her brow, and eyes
uplifted, she threw the cage aside, swung her Mercury staff aloft, and
danced along the rope in waltz time, as though borne by the gods of the
wind. Whirling swiftly around, her slender figure darted in graceful
curves from one end of the narrow path to the other. Then the applause
reached the degree of enthusiastic madness which she desired; even Loni
clapped his hands from the steeple window. She had never seen him do this
to any of the company. Yes, she must have accomplished her purpose well;
but she would show him and the others something still more wonderful.
What she had just done was capable of many additional feats; she had
tried it.

With fluttering hands and pulses she instantly loosed from her panting
bosom and her hips the garland of roses and leaves twined about the upper
portion of her body, and swung it around her in graceful curves as she
knelt and rose on the rope.

She had often jumped rope on the low rope, turning completely around so
that she faced the other way. To repeat this performance on the one
stretched to the steeple would certainly not be expected from her or from
any other. Suppose she should use the garland as a rope and venture to