Summary

Portrait of H. C. Bunner H. C. Bunner Stories by American Authors, Volume 1

I held the rope loose—held George with my eyes—One!
I saw his lips move: he was counting with me.
Two!
His eye wandered, turned to the stage-box.
Three!
Like a flash, I saw the white upturned faces below me, the posture-girls' gestures of horror, the dark springing figure through the air, that wavered—and fell a shapeless mass on the floor.
There was a moment of deathlike silence, and then a wild outcry—women fainting, men cursing and crying out in that senseless, helpless way they have when there is sudden danger.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of H. C. Bunner H. C. Bunner Stories by American Authors, Volume 1

The sympathy of the world is generally upon the side of the unsuccessful lover. He is considered to have been defrauded of happiness which should by right have been his. But is it fair? Because her face is sweet, her manners are amiable, her form is slender and graceful, and her hair has a golden shine, and Barwood or Brown or Travers, as the case may be, in common with all the world, recognizes it, does that establish a claim upon her? Just as likely as not he has a snub nose and only fifteen hundred a year, and cannot dance the Boston.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of H. C. Bunner H. C. Bunner Stories by American Authors, Volume 1

I asked, pushing up. "Balacchi? My partner?"
Mr. Lloyd turned away directly, but the surgeon told me civilly enough that if George's life could be saved, it must be with the loss of one or perhaps both of his legs.
"He'll never mount a trapeze again, then," I said, and I suppose I groaned; for to think of George helpless—
"God forbid!" cried Mr. Lloyd, sharply. "Now look here, my good man: you can be of no possible use to Mr.—Balacchi as you call him. He is in the hands of his own people, and he will feel, as they do, that the kindest thing you can do is to let him alone."
Source: Gutenberg

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