Then came Pantaloon, and Harlequin and Columbine. The old man was funny, but the youth and the girl were exquisite--he, diamond-spangled and lean as a lizard, she in tulle skirts and wreath of flowers. They did all the old tricks of masks and slapping sticks, of pursuit and retreat, but they did them so beautifully that Anne and Christopher sat spellbound--what they were seeing was not two clever actors on a sawdust stage, but love in its springtime--girl and boy--dreams, rapture, radiance. Then, in a moment, Columbine was dead, and Harlequin wept over her--frost had killed the flower--love and life were at an end. Christopher was drawing deep breaths. Anne was tense. But now--Columbine was on her feet, and Harlequin was blowing kisses to the audience! "Let's get out of this," Christopher said, almost roughly, and led Anne down the steps and into the almost deserted outer tent. They looked for the snake-charmer, but he was gone. "Eating rice somewhere or saying his prayers," Christopher surmised. "How could he know about the gods?" Anne asked, as they drove home. "They know a great deal--these old men of the East," Christopher told her, and talked for the rest of the way about the strange people among whom he had spent so many years. V Ridgeley did not come home to dinner. He telephoned that he would be late. It was close and warm. Christopher, sitting with Anne and Jeanette on the porch, decided that a storm was brewing. Anne was restless. She went down into the garden, and Christopher followed her. She wore white, and he was aware of the rose scent. He picked a rose for her as he passed through the garden. "Bend your head, and I'll put it in your hair." "I can't wear pink." "It is white in the dusk--" He put his hands on her shoulders, stopped her, and stuck the rose behind her ear. Then he let her go. They came to the grove of birches, and sat down on the stone seat. It had grown dark, and the lightning flashing up from the horizon gave to the birches a spectral whiteness--Anne was a silver statue. "It was queer," she said, "about the old man at the circus." "About the beads?" "Yes. I wonder what he meant, Christopher? _'What you think is evil--cannot be evil'?_ Do you think he meant--Death?" He did not answer at once, then he said, abruptly, "Anne, how did it happen that you and Ridgeley drifted apart?" "Oh, it's hard to tell." "But tell me."