Presently the hunchback, receiving a kick from one of the clowns, turned a somersault and tumbled in a grotesque heap outside the ring. A dialogue between two clowns began, and the Gadfly seemed to wake out of a dream. “Shall we go?” he asked; “or would you like to see more?” “I would rather go.” They left the tent, and walked across the dark green to the river. For a few moments neither spoke. “What did you think of the show?” the Gadfly asked presently. “I thought it rather a dreary business; and part of it seemed to me positively unpleasant.” “Which part?” “Well, all those grimaces and contortions. They are simply ugly; there is nothing clever about them.” “Do you mean the hunchback's performance?” Remembering his peculiar sensitiveness on the subject of his own physical defects, she had avoided mentioning this particular bit of the entertainment; but now that he had touched upon the subject himself, she answered: “Yes; I did not like that part at all.” “That was the part the people enjoyed most.” “I dare say; and that is just the worst thing about it.” “Because it was inartistic?” “N-no; it was all inartistic. I meant--because it was cruel.” He smiled. “Cruel? Do you mean to the hunchback?” “I mean---- Of course the man himself was quite indifferent; no doubt, it is to him just a way of getting a living, like the circus-rider's way or the columbine's. But the thing makes one feel unhappy. It is humiliating; it is the degradation of a human being.” “He probably is not any more degraded than he was to start with. Most of us are degraded in one way or another.” “Yes; but this--I dare say you will think it an absurd prejudice; but a human body, to me, is a sacred thing; I don't like to see it treated irreverently and made hideous.” “And a human soul?” He had stopped short, and was standing with one hand on the stone balustrade of the embankment, looking straight at her. “A soul?” she repeated, stopping in her turn to look at him in wonder. He flung out both hands with a sudden, passionate gesture.