“Oh, human nature, I suppose; they saw I had only one hand that I could hit back with. They're a mangy, half-caste lot; negroes and Zambos mostly. And then those horrible coolies! So at last I got enough of that, and set off to tramp the country at random; just wandering about, on the chance of something turning up.” “To tramp? With that lame foot!” He looked up with a sudden, piteous catching of the breath. “I--I was hungry,” he said. She turned her head a little away and rested her chin on one hand. After a moment's silence he began again, his voice sinking lower and lower as he spoke: “Well, I tramped, and tramped, till I was nearly mad with tramping, and nothing came of it. I got down into Ecuador, and there it was worse than ever. Sometimes I'd get a bit of tinkering to do,--I'm a pretty fair tinker,--or an errand to run, or a pigstye to clean out; sometimes I did--oh, I hardly know what. And then at last, one day------” The slender, brown hand clenched itself suddenly on the table, and Gemma, raising her head, glanced at him anxiously. His side-face was turned towards her, and she could see a vein on the temple beating like a hammer, with quick, irregular strokes. She bent forward and laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Never mind the rest; it's almost too horrible to talk about.” He stared doubtfully at the hand, shook his head, and went on steadily: “Then one day I met a travelling variety show. You remember that one the other night; well, that sort of thing, only coarser and more indecent. The Zambos are not like these gentle Florentines; they don't care for anything that is not foul or brutal. There was bull-fighting, too, of course. They had camped out by the roadside for the night; and I went up to their tent to beg. Well, the weather was hot and I was half starved, and so--I fainted at the door of the tent. I had a trick of fainting suddenly at that time, like a boarding-school girl with tight stays. So they took me in and gave me brandy, and food, and so on; and then--the next morning--they offered me----” Another pause. “They wanted a hunchback, or monstrosity of some kind; for the boys to pelt with orange-peel and banana-skins--something to set the blacks laughing------ You saw the clown that night--well, I was that--for two years. I suppose you have a humanitarian feeling about negroes and Chinese. Wait till you've been at their mercy! “Well, I learned to do the tricks. I was not quite deformed enough; but they set that right with an artificial hump and made the most of this foot and arm---- And the Zambos are not critical; they're easily satisfied if only they can get hold of some live thing to torture--the fool's dress makes a good deal of difference, too.