In this circus, where he lifted the heaviest weights, and held the little boy and his own little girl straight out with his hands quite a long time, it was very wonderful indeed. But there was never anything after, to show it had been done, except a great deal of clapping and calling from the people. And this was partly for the children, who had such round, pleasant faces, and ran away just as soon as the father put them down. The strong man was always thinking of this when he walked beside the wagon and looked off over the fields where the men were working. And it was so with all of them; but as no one spoke of it they were thought to be a very gay company, for they laughed quite often. And after all, it did seem to them a very grand thing when they entered the village. The people ran to the doors and windows, and streamed out of the inn; and the children ran after the wagon, looking at them with the greatest wonder. Whatever sadness they may have felt about their life, they forgot it entirely when they stood before the people in their spangled suits. Then it seemed to them quite the greatest thing to make a whole village stare. They walked about very proudly, and talked in very deep tones. Sometimes they allowed one or two of the largest boys to help make ready for the show. In one of the villages, the shoemaker's lame Charlie had helped lay the carpet on which the strong man stood when he did his part. Among these people who went about there was a child. Her name was Mignon; and when the tumblers had leaped over the high rods and stood upon each other's shoulders for the last time, and the strong man had bowed and gone away amid the greatest applause, this Mignon danced for the people. When it was very still, and the strange, beautiful music had sounded, she would come slowly forward, and placing her hands on her breast she would bow very low, and begin to stir and sway in time. How beautiful it was! It was like a flower in the wind, and all the people stood still and looked with wonder. Sometimes she sang; it was the strangest song that ever was sung by a child. It was always about far-off lands, where it seemed to her the real joy was. Tears shone in the eyes of all the people as they listened, and when it was over and they were again at their work, a deep sadness seemed in everything. They too had begun to think that the real joy might be a long, long way off from them. And Mignon went on from village to village, singing and dancing and seeking. Always she was thinking, "Who knows but tomorrow, in the next village or the next, I will find the real joy? it will come to me as I sing or stir with the beautiful music!" But, children, Mignon never found it. The feet that were meant to fly on loving errands only danced, and though it was so beautiful it was really nothing, and the real joy was not in it.