Madcap Part 36

"O Hermia,--what a frolic you've had! I feared--" He paused.

"What?"

"Anything--everything. You had no right--"

She raised a warning finger.

"We'll speak of it no more, Philidor," she said quietly.

His anger flared and died; for her eyes were soft with friendship, gentleness and compa.s.sion, and her bent head begged forgiveness. She had been unreasonable and would make him unhappy no more. All those things he read. It was quite wonderful.

She led him through the bushes to the fire where the Signora and Stella made him welcome with their kindest smiles and the _bambino_ cried l.u.s.tily. Cleofonte and Luigi presently emerged from the forest where they had gone in search of wood and deposited their loads by the fireside. They all made merry as befitted good comrades of the road, once more reunited, and when Philidor suggested going back to Verneuil for the night the jovial strong man would not have it, nor would Yvonne. So Luigi was dispatched on the gray horse to the town for Clarissa and the pack, but not until Philidor had privily given him some instructions and a piece of money which opened his sleepy eyes a trifle wider and increased the dimension of his smile.

When he returned later with both animals laden with packages deep was the joy and great the astonishment of the caravaners. With an air of mystery Luigi proudly laid his packages out in a row beside the fire and Yvonne opened them one by one, disclosing a chicken, a ham, three loaves of bread, b.u.t.ter, two cheeses, some marmalade, a quart of milk, a pound of coffee, a pound of tea, a tin of crackers and two bottles of wine.

"_Jesu mio!_" said Cleofonte, his eyes starting from his head. "It is beyond belief."

"To-night you dine with me--with us," laughed Philidor with a glance at Yvonne. They all took a hand in preparing the meal, which was to be magnificent. Luigi built another fire for the chicken which was to be roasted on a spit, and the coffee pot was soon simmering.

Yvonne made toast, Philidor cut the ham, the Signora made vegetable soup, and Stella hurried back and forth from the wagon, bringing the slender supply of dishes and utensils.

When all was ready they sat and ate as though they had never eaten before and were never to eat again. The wine was pa.s.sed and drunk by turns from two broken tumblers and two tin cups, the only vessels available for both the wine and coffee, and healths were merrily pledged. Cleofonte swore an undying friendship for Philidor. Were they not both great artists--of different _m?tiers_, but each great in his own profession? The world should know it. He, Cleofonte, would proclaim it. And the Signora Fabiani--she and the Signora were already sisters. They must all travel together. There was enough food for an army to eat. It would last a week at the very least.

Philidor was content. And when the others had cleared away what remained of their feast and brought out the blankets, Yvonne sat for a long while by the fire with Philidor, who smoked and talked of many things. But the train to Paris no longer interested him.

CHAPTER XIX

MOUNTEBANKS

They reached Alenon at the end of the third day. Soon after leaving Verneuil their road mounted a rocky country of robust wooded hills, cleft by gorges and defiles, the uplands of the Perche and Normandie, from the crests of which the pilgrims had a generous view of the whole of the Orne. On the first day the company had dined at St. Maurice and supped and slept near Tourouvre, in the heart of a primeval forest of oaks and pines. Philidor and Yvonne had followed close upon the steps of Toma.s.so the bear, keeping, so to speak, under the shadow of Cleofonte's protecting wing. There was a difference in their relations, indefinable yet quite obvious to them both, a reserve on Philidor's part, marked by consideration and deference; on Yvonne's a gentleness and amiability which showed him how companionable she could be. Indeed, her docility was nothing short of alarming, and Philidor was ever on his guard against a new outbreak which, he was sure, was to be expected at any moment. But she cajoled him no more.

Perhaps she understood him better now. Who knows? He spoke no more of love, nor were the roses of Pre Gu?gou again mentioned.

At Mortagne, which they had reached upon the second day, Philidor and Yvonne had a first view of a public performance of the Fabiani family, for, the conditions being agreeable, Cleofonte had pitched their camp within the limits of the town, and a crowd, augmented by Yvonne and her orchestra, had made their visit profitable. Yvonne had slept that night at a small _auberge_, her bed and board paid for with money she had made, and Philidor, who complained of a lack of sitters, slept quite comfortably near Clarissa in a stable.

In the morning Yvonne had made some purchases in the town--and later they had caught up with their friends near La Mesle, along the Sarthe, down which their road descended by easy stages to their destination.

Alenon was in holiday garb and the tricolor flaunted bravely from many poles, though the beginning of the fte was not until to-morrow.

The streets were gay with people, the market-place showed a number of booths, tents and canvas enclosures within which performances were already in progress. The Fabiani family was late in arriving, but a spot was found, between the sword-swallower and the Circa.s.sian lady, which suited Cleofonte's purpose. So the _routlotte_ was backed into place and Cleofonte, his coat off, his brows beading, directed the erection of the canvas barrier within which the performances were to be given. For let it be understood the Fabianis were no common mountebanks for whom one pa.s.sed a hat. There was to be a gate through which one only pa.s.sed upon the payment of ten sous, and within were to be benches upon which one could sit in luxury while he beheld these marvels of the age. Philidor and Yvonne helped, too, getting out the canvas which had been rolled and fastened beneath the wagon, and the uprights which supported it. Not satisfied with the sign which was to be fastened over the entrance, Philidor sought out a paint shop and before dark painted two great posters three mtres in height;--one of them depicting Cleofonte with bulging muscles (real pink muscles that one felt like pinching) in the act of breaking into bits with his bare hands a great iron chain; the other showing the child Stella being tossed in the air from Cleofonte to Luigi, her heels and head almost touching. By sunset the paintings were finished and fastened in place, and when Cleofonte lit the torches upon either side of the entrance gate, the folk who were pa.s.sing stopped in wonder to gaze. There were to be no performances to-night, Cleofonte explained, the company was weary; but to-morrow--! He pause and the magnificence with which his huge fist tapped his deep chest were eloquence itself.

Their work done for the night, Philidor set off post haste in search of quarters for Yvonne; but the inns were full and it was too late to search elsewhere. So he bought a truss of straw and one of hay (for Clarissa and the s.h.a.ggy phantom) and brought them to the _roulotte_ upon his back. The night was mild, and so he made Yvonne's bed and his own within the enclosure, and amid a babel of sounds, above which the barrel organ of the carousel near by wheezed tremulously, they dropped upon the blankets, dead tired, and fell asleep at once.

The sun was not long in the heavens before the barrel organ, silenced at midnight, renewed its plaint and the business of the day began.

After an early breakfast Cleofonte and Luigi retired to the dressing tent, emerging after a while in gorgeous costumes of pink fleshings and spangles, their hair well greased with pomatum, their mustachios elaborately curled. The Signora and Stella soon followed, their hair wreathed in tight braids around their heads. The _bambino_, neglected, was howling l.u.s.tily, so Yvonne took him in her lap upon the straw and soothed him to slumber while the carpet was laid and the impediments of the athletes brought out and placed near by for the day's work.

More than anything else in the world, Yvonne longed for a bath, but she suppressed this desire as unworthy of a true vagabond and washed in a bucket of water which Philidor had brought from the pump, sharing at the last in the suppressed excitement which pervaded the arena. There was no doubt in the minds of any that the Troupe Fabiani was to be the great success of the occasion. The duties and destinies of all its members had already been explained and decided. A girl was hired to care for the _bambino_. Yvonne was to beat her drum and play her orchestra on the platform outside, and this would attract the people, already anxious to behold the wonders within, a foretaste of which would be given, when the crowd gathered, by Cleofonte, who would life a few heavy weights and introduce the Signora, the Child Wonder, and Toma.s.so, the bear. Philidor was to keep the gate and between the performances was to make portraits of those who desired them. Their organization was perfection. Cleofonte was at his best when in the executive capacity.

At nine o'clock Hermia mounted the platform (a piano box turned on its side) and began to thump the drum and cymbals. Her position was conspicuous and she began a little uncertainly, for it was one thing to choose one's audience among the simple folk of the countryside, another to face the kind of crowd which now gathered to gaze up at her--peasants, horse-fanciers, shop people, clerks on a holiday, with here and there a person of less humble station, but she bent to her work with a will, encouraged by the example of the Circa.s.sian lady next to her who was selling in brown bottles an elixir which was a cure for all things except love and the goiter. The sword-swallower next them was already busy, and the _Homme Sauvage_, a hirsute person, whose unprofessional mien was both kind and peaceable (as Yvonne had discovered unofficially last night), was roaring horribly, at two sous the head, in his enclosure near by.

The wooden horses of the _mange_, upon which some children and a few soldiers from the garrison were riding, were already whirling on their mad career.

While Yvonne played, Cleofonte and Philidor "barked." That is, they proclaimed in loud tones the prodigies that were to be disclosed and that the performance was about to begin; to the end that, in a little while, coppers and centime pieces jingled merrily in Philidor's coat pocket, the benches were filled and a crowd two deep stood behind.

This augured well. Cleofonte beamed as he counted noses, and the performance began.

Yvonne played a lively air while Toma.s.so was put through his paces, walking with a stick and turning somersaults, and at the end Cleofonte put on a heavy coat to keep himself from being torn by the savage claws of the beast and wrestled for some minutes with Toma.s.so, making the act more realistic by straining from side to side and puffing violently while Toma.s.so clung on, his muzzle sniffing the air, to be finally dragged down upon his master and proclaimed the victor. The applause from this part of the program was allowed to die and a dignified pause ensued, after which the signora appeared in her famous juggling act, unmindful of the cries of the _bambino_ from the _roulotte_ in active rebellion against the subst.i.tute. During Stella's performance, which followed, the orchestra played jerkily and then stopped, for Yvonne had never yet succeeded in looking on at the child's contortions without a pang of the heart. But the act went smoothly enough, and the entertainment, which lasted nearly an hour, concluded with Cleofonte's exhibition of prowess and the stone-breaking episode of which he was so justly proud.

The receipts were four hundred sous--twenty francs--and there were to be six performances a day! Well might Cleofonte wring Philidor by the hand and pay him over the five francs which he and Hermia had earned!

There were no portraits to do, so Philidor sat at the entrance with Yvonne until the time for the next performance. It was tiresome work and the breathing s.p.a.ce was welcome enough. To Philidor his companion seemed already weary. But when he suggested that perhaps they had better take to the road again she shook her head.

"No, no. I've reached the soul of things--felt the pulse-beats of humanity. I delight with Cleofonte, suffer with Stella. I'm learning to live, that's all."

"I thought you looked a little tired," he said gently.

"I am tired--but not mind-tired, heart-tired, spirit-tired as I once was. My elbows ache and there's a raw place on my shoulder, but it's an honorable scar and I'll wear it. And I sleep, O Philidor, I never knew the luxury of sleep such as mine."

"I don't want you to be ill."

"I can do my share," she finished steadily, "if Stella can."

Toward three o'clock of the afternoon Yvonne mounted her piano box.

The Fabiani family had been so well received that once it had been necessary for Philidor to draw the flap at the gate because there was no room in the enclosure for more people. As the time for the beginning of the fourth performance drew near, a crowd had again gathered, listening to the _Femme Orchestre_ and moving in groups of two and three toward the entrance where Philidor in the intervals between announcements pocketed their coins and watched Yvonne. This last occupation was one in which of late he had taken great delight.

Her costume, as Monsieur de Folligny had also discovered, became her admirably, the sun and wind had tanned her face and arms to a rich warmth, and this color made the blue of her eyes the more tender. The lines he had discovered in her face were absent now, for it was the business of a _Femme Orchestre_ to smile.

Cleofonte had come out and was looking over the crowd with an appraising eye, adding his own voice to the din as Philidor paused for breath, when in the midst of a lively air the music stopped--stopped so suddenly that Philidor turned to see what the matter was. Yvonne gave one startled glance over the crowd, then jumped down behind the box and, unslinging her orchestra as she dropped, literally dove under the canvas flap and disappeared. Philidor, who was in the act of making change, called Cleofonte to take his place and went inside, to find that Yvonne had fled behind the wagon.

"What is it?" he asked, alarmed. "Are you ill?"

"No, no," breathlessly. "Olga! I saw her. She's out there."

It was Philidor's turn to be perturbed. "Olga Tcherny! You must be mistaken."

"I'm not. I wish I was. I saw her plainly--and the Renauds, Madeleine de Cahors and Chandler Cushing. O Philidor, they mustn't see me here!"

She seized his arm and looked up into his eyes appealingly.

His brows drew downward and he glanced toward the entrance.

"They wouldn't come in here."

"They might--"

He glanced irresolutely about him and then opened the door of the _roulotte_ and helped her up the steps.

"Stay there-and lock the door."

He paused a moment, his hand on the doork.n.o.b, looking over the head of the audience toward the entrance flap, where Cleofonte, oblivious of the tragedy which threatened the newer members of his family, still shouted hoa.r.s.ely. Philidor stopped in the dressing tent and spoke a few words to the Signora, made his way across the arena, peering over Cleofonte's shoulder, and then, his course of action chosen, slipped quickly into his accustomed place outside.

"_Dix sous, Messieurs et Dames!" he shouted. "The greatest act of this or any age--the _Famille Fabiani_, the world renowned acrobats, jugglers and strong man! Six great acts of skill and strength, any one of which is worth the price of admission! _Entrez, Mesdames_, and see the fight between Signor Cleofonte, the strongest man in the world, and the savage bear captured from the forests of Siberia! A contest which thrills the blood--for in spite of the great strength of the Signor--which has been compared to that of Samson, who once fought and conquered, single handed, a lion (smiles of approval from Cleofonte at the eloquence of this comparison), in spite of the great strength of the Signor--I say--the danger of his destruction is ever present, as any one who has seen the contest can testify. Come one, come all, _Messieurs_, only once in a lifetime does one have a chance to see the Signorina Stella Fabiani, the child wonder, Queen of the Mat and Queen of the Air, in her extraordinary acts of flight and contortion--"

During this harangue Philidor had felt rather than seen the figure which had slowly wedged through the crowd at one side and now stood beside him. He knew that it was Olga Tcherny, but he had not dared to look at her, though he was quite sure that her head was perched on one side in the birdlike pose she found effective, and that her eyes, mocking and mischievous, were searching him intently. But he went on extravagantly, searching his wits for Barnum-like adjectives.