It was summer in England, but it was like winter here, a bland and mild winter, with, fortunately for Bloxford's circus, no rain--at any rate, at present--and all through the day the scene had been lit up by a brilliant sun which, shining through a singularly clear atmosphere, seemed to destroy distance and to bestow sharp outlines on every object. There was something exhilarating in the air, and the bustle and excitement, and Derrick, having rested, went to his canvas quarters feeling his blood stir within him, and his past life stretching away behind him as if it had belonged to another man. They opened to a big "house," comprising an audience of all classes, and it might be said all nationalities; for in the din that arose from the crowd Derrick caught scraps of Italian, Spanish, and French, the thick, soft tone of the Mexican, the brogue of the Irishman; it was a veritable Babel. As he passed behind the opening through which the performers entered, Isabel Devigne stepped out from the women's dressing-room, and Derrick could not suppress a start of surprise and admiration. As a kind of compliment to the country, she was made up to represent a queen of the Incas, and was the personification of barbaric splendour. Her superb figure glittered and scintillated with silver and gold tinsel, which, in the garish light, would look like a plate of precious metal. A scarlet cloak partially draped her. The effect of her height was increased by a head-dress of waving plumes, and her dark brows and the natural scarlet of her lips were intensified by her make-up. Of course, she saw him start and the frank admiration in his eyes, and she smiled as she drew herself up with a proud consciousness of her beauty. "Shall I do?" she asked, knowing well what the answer would be. "You're simply splendacious," Derrick assured her. "That costume suits you down to the ground. You're magnificent." She flushed beneath her paint, and her lids drooped. "I'm glad you like it," she said. "Yes, I think I shall knock them." "You'll knock them silly," said Derrick, confidently. Then Alice stepped out from the dressing-room, a very different figure, in her conventional short skirt and silk-clad legs. She looked very slight and fragile, very fairy-like, against the gorgeous figure of Isabel, and she glanced down at herself deprecatingly, then raised her eyes appealingly to Derrick, who responded promptly. "You look too beautiful to be real, both of you," he said. "If the rest are as good as you are, this show's going to be the biggest success on earth."