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Show grew restless. One night the box was empty. The next day the boy came to rehearsal with lilies of pain about his eyes and lips. ... "I have made her angry," he said simply sim-ply to his father.,' "She was not in the Px)is." ' V . ! ! ; But at night she was again in her i place; beside her a man of her own world. "But," thought Little Sterling, "an old man, as old as my father and with I gray hair." Shaking his golden curls from his brow he dashed into the ring, turning his. joyous, joy-ous, laughing eyes upon the woman he adored. She answered with a quick smile, but her companion frowned and questioned her. ' ' Then she shrugged her shoulders indifferently. in-differently. And that night no flowers fell at the feet of Little Sterling. James took the boy's head between hii hands. "Cry, my little one!" he said, tenderly. "Dost fear to show me thy tears? And what sorrow shall touch thee that I may notshare?" - - - " - The lad, unable to keep back the tears, flung himself, on his father's breast. Then his face flushed. "What have I done?" he questioned, fiercely. "What right has she to cast me off like a glove, to be thrown aside aa soon as worn? Did she not seek me of her own accord? Dost thou not remember?" remem-ber?" And Mamma Sterling listened patiently, patient-ly, for the hundredth time, to the story of the first smile, the flowers, the handkerchief, hand-kerchief, which the boy still wore over, his heart, the dainty, perfumed note telling tell-ing his ravished eyes that the carriage her carriage waited for him I Then the short drive beside her, the enchanted wines he drank, the delicate plate, the happy after meetings. . And it was all so young, so innocent, so pathetic in its simplicity, that Mamma Sterling could only keep back the tears because it was necessary to be brave and gay to comfert the lad. What could he say, the older man, who knew the world so well, who, in the heyday of his own yonth, had seen a duchess of the Faubourg Fau-bourg St. Germain make a goose of herself her-self for the space of one week because of his handsome eyes? And he had recov- "MAMMA STERLING, j i circuit rider, yes! But the finest rider and the handsomest man Paris has jver seen. Ah, I remember him well! In his costume cos-tume of postillion of the Eighteenth century cen-tury scarlet coat, white wig, booted to j the knee, spurred with silver gay, gallant, gal-lant, unconcerned ! Riding that devil of a black horse of his without saddle or bridle and at a pnee to make one's head wiro; driving three, four, five white horses before him, the reins gathered Hghtly in one gloved hand, in the other cigar -a cigar, if you please, held now and again to his lips! He was an Eng- j lishman. Sterling was his name James Sterling. And Paris ador.ed him, idolized him. First for his beauty, then for his talent, always for his audacity. He was at the Tery height of favor when a little Zin-f Zin-f ira joined the troupe, then playing at the Cirque d'Ete. She was scarcely more than a child, Hot 17, and beautiful dear heaven, how beautiful! Dark, like La-Caroly, the Creole dancer, but finer, more delicate, with a slender, reed like body, a royal color beneath her dusky velvet skin, and hair which. swept the ground. Eyes, like the eyes of dumb things, dark, soft, large, appealing, and a tender mouth. They met Sterling and the gypsy Bacha and -it seemed but a glance, a clasp of 'the hand, and the two loved. Thev were married, for Sterling was an honest fellow, and after that, let the nan look to himself who gave a glance too long or a smile too broad or spoke without respect of Mrs. James Sterling! Well, it was one short year of love and happiness, and truly no lady of the hant inonde was cherished more tenderly, eared for more daintily, than this gypsy Bacha, wife of aoircus rider. Then there came a night in the Provinces while they were on the road, when the dark eyes were closed, and the sweet lips silent, and the little, firm, fearless hands folded, and Bacha was gone, leaving a little child for whom James Sterling must pay this earful price. They thought at first that he would kill it; the helpless little one! But there was something in its great dark eyes which spoke to his heart, and, looking into them, he suddenly fell to weeping and afterward cared for the child himself him-self and let no other go near it. No woman wo-man could have been more tender, more gentle or shown such maternal patience' and self abnegation, and so it came about that his comrades "spoke of him as "Mamma Sterling." And the little one caught the word and gave it to him, too, in innocent, baby fondness. The child grew to be a fine little fellow, fel-low, with his mother's dark eyes and his father's golden hair, and the strength, talent and daring of both. He was trained by Sterling hiinsnlf for the profession, and his debut at Franconi's was the talk of half Paris. He was so beautiful, so erect, so elegant and delicatoly fashioned, and even then made his bow to a great audience with a little disdainful smile on his lips, which spoke the artist who loved his art. , ' Each season brought fresh triumphs to father and son. Sterling lived again in his boy.' He had returned to the ring with him and Paris saw again the English En-glish rider in his costume of postillion of the Eighteenth century. But it was only that ho might ha,ve more to lavish on his son, Tlje old dash was gone even in the ring one saw ".Mamma Sterling." Well, one night, the opening of the aeasnn at the Cirque d'Ete, little Sterling Sterl-ing surpassed himself. And his marvellous marvel-lous performance over, he stood, his strong young chest scarcely stirred by the effort, not a drop of moisture dampening damp-ening the coronet of golden curls on his brow, superbly handsome in the flush of his triumph, and the glory of his seventeen, seven-teen, years. - The house shook with thunderous thun-derous applause, bravos filled the air, aricl a woman in one of the boxes leaned ered from that what he had then believeid to lie the tragedy of his life. "So will the dear child," he thought. But he forgot the mother's gypsy blood. Two weeks crept by and all the while the box at the cirque was empty. Once Little Sterling dared to seek entrance at the gates of. a certain hotel in the aristocratic aristo-cratic quarter, but while he waited, like a lackey, in the court, the concierge returned, re-turned, and giving him back his card, said, with an insolent smile: "Monsieur has doubtless made a mistake." mis-take." Then indeed he gave up hope. Each night he went through his part with perhaps per-haps more of reckless daring than before, but the smile was no longer on his hps, and Tommy Pears, the clown, ventured to tell Mamma Sterling that his handsome hand-some chick wag going off on his looks. James struck the fellow a blow full on his painted lips. But that night he watched beside the boy, tossing restlessly restless-ly on. his bed, watched with aching, sleepless eyes and a dull pain at his heart. At last she came again! Not alone, but with a gay crowd of men and women, and among them the gray haired aristocrat, who hung devotedly about her chair. Still not even this could stifle the joy in the'bby's heart." . "She is here!" he whispered excitedly to his father. The woman in the box turned an indifferent in-different glance on Little Sterling as he sprang into the ring; then, as indifferently indiffer-ently pawing him over, she raised her lorgnette and studied some face in the audience beyond! The boy shrank as from a sudden blow, then the blood tingled hotly in his cheek, and raising his handsome, haughty head, he leaped lightly forward and seized the ropes. But as he swung upward and reached his trapeze he watched that one face steadily. Not once did he surprise her glance. Again and again, as he accomplished accom-plished some perilous feat, he sent down from his eyrie under the great dome that shrill, sweet cry of triumph. Not once did her eyes respond. What mattered it, then, that all the house shrieked "Brava! Bravissima:" ' Now ah, impossible! Yes! she was rising, her companion was gathering the folds of her long cloak tenderly about her graceful shoulders she was leaving the cirque! And in the midst of his scene! ' 1 With that shrill cry, still sweet on the air, with his lips curved in that smile, half tender, half disdainful. Little Sterl- ing rose to his full height on the swaying sway-ing bar of his trapeze. Balancing himself him-self surely, with his arms folded over his chest, his slim body erect, as if in the proud consciousness of some new victory vic-tory to be achieved, he swept the house with ono electric glance. Then swift, straight as an arrow sent by an unerring hand, the tinsel of his dress gleaming in the air like a single ray of vivid light, he shot downward from that immense height and lay prone in the dust of the ring. ' A cry of horror as from a single throat rose from the great audience, but ere a I single hand could be outstretched to I raise the poor, crushed form in all its 1 blood stained bravery of silk and tinsel a figure clad in the gay scarlet of a postillion pos-tillion of the Eighteenth century dashed into the ring, a white, desperate face bent over the lifeless body of the lad, and fiercely, hungrily, jealously spurning spurn-ing the aid of a hundred willing hands, Mamma Sterling gathered to his breast all that was left him of his boy, and, never swerving beneath his burden, carried car-ried him away in his arms. Half the house, men and women, were in teare, and for a moment there was not a sound! Everything seemed silenced, hushed, in the presence of that grief. There was a movement in one of the boxes. A beautiful, dark woman had risen. She shivered a little as she clung to the arm of her gray haired escort and her lips were white, very white and set, but she only said: Ah bah! One comes to the cirque to be amused!" Adapted from the French of Rene Maizemv. for Current Literature, Litera-ture, by Alice Ballard-M;xdonr.ld. forward and threw the roses slm had worn straight at his feet. Something white fluttered out from the flowers, a filmy bit of lace and cambric, and the lad bfent swiftly and lifted both the roses and the handkerchief to his lips. After that, any one who cared to take the trouble might have seen the dark, beautiful face each night, in the same hox, during Little Sterling's scene, and every night she threw him her flowers and gave. him the same tender smiles. And the boy had eyes for no one else. His glance sought hers as he entered the ring, fell on her from the dizzy heights when he swung on his silk covered rope?, Implored her smile as'he bowed before her box, and flashed love and gratitude in return for the floral message sent by, her gloved lingers. Little Sterling loved 1 with the terrible ardor of his gypsy blood, with the fierce, impetuous passion cif youth. She was a woman of the gay Parisian world. Like Sardou's Countess Olga, he had married before 17, been divorced before 30, was bored before everything! ! The lad's infatuation amused, his beauty ! charmed-her. One night her carriage ; waited for him, and Bhe took him with ; her to' Bupper. She knew Well how to . fckanago the affair correctly, eo that no candal should cloud her small diversion. This, was the beginning. -Then the hard earned salary was spent for flowers, matrons, even a costly bit of . bijouterie found its way to my lady's I boudoir, to be laughed over by my lady ' and the friends who quietly shrugged ! their shoulders over this questionable j preference for a circus performer. Still j she was rich, young, beautiful, popular, j free, nd there was no scandal. No, not ! even when Little Sterling rode his mag- ; nificent black horse beside her Victoria in the, Bois, or bent tenderly ver her. ' little hand in the A'enue des Acacias, in j full sight of all Paris. ; ; ' "Mamma Sterling looked on with anxious anx-ious eyes. And yet the boy was deliri- j ously happy, and after all how much j better, since ho must have his education, ! that the first lesson should come from the hands of a real grandee dame and Mamma Sterling felt a faint thrill of pride rather than from some heartless . fuwn of the half world, i A month passed, and Little Sterling j |