The night was clear and glittering with stars, and there was a crowd
upon the market-place. They crowded in gaping delight around the tent of
some strolling acrobats, where red and smoking lanterns lighted the
performance which was just beginning. Rolling their muscular limbs in
dirty wraps, and decorated from head to foot with tawdry ruffles of fur,
the athletes--four boyish ruffians with vulgar heads--were ranged in
line before the painted canvas which represented their exploits; they
stood there with their heads down, their legs apart, and their muscular
arms crossed upon their chests. Near them the marshal of the
establishment, an old sub-officer, with the drooping mustache of a
brandy-drinker, belted in at the waist, a heart of red cloth on his
leather breastplate, leaned on a pair of foils. The feminine attraction,
a rose in her hair, with a man's overcoat protecting her against the
freshness of the evening air over her ballet-dancer's dress, played at
the same time the cymbals and the big bass-drum a desperate
accompaniment to three measures of a polka, always the same, which were
murdered by a blind clarionet player; and the ringmaster, a sort of
Hercules with the face of a galley-slave, a Silenus in scarlet drawers,
roared out his furious appeal in a loud voice. Mixed with the crowd of
loafers, soldiers, and women, I regarded the abject spectacle with
disgust--the last vestige of the olympic games.
Suddenly the music ceased, and the crowd broke into roars of laughter.
The clown had just made his appearance.
[Illustration]
He wore the ordinary costume of his kind, the short vest and
many-colored stockings of the peasants of the opera comique, the three
horns turned backward, the red wig with its turned-up queue and its
butterfly on the end. He was a young man, but alas, his face, whitened
with flour, was already seamed with vice. Planting himself before the
public, and opening his mouth in a silly grin, he showed bleeding gums
almost devoid of teeth. The ringmaster kicked him violently from behind.
"Come in," he said, tranquilly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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