"Slap-bang!"
The poor mother looked at her husband with a frightened glance. What was
the little fellow saying? Was the terrible delirium coming back again?
"Slap-bang!" She knew not what that signified. She was frightened at the
strangeness of the words, which now the sick boy, with the perversity of
illness--as if, having screwed his courage up to put his dream in words,
he was resolved to speak of nothing else--repeated without ceasing:--
"Slap-bang! I want Slap-bang!"
"What does he mean?" she said, distractedly, grasping her husband's
hand. "Oh, he is lost!"
But Jacques' rough face wore a smile of wonder and relief, like that of
one condemned to death who sees a chance of liberty.
Slap-bang! He remembered well the morning of Whit-Monday, when he had
taken Francis to the circus. He could hear still the child's delighted
laughter, when the clown--the beautiful clown, all be-starred with
golden spangles, and with a huge many-coloured butterfly glittering on
the back of his black costume--skipped across the track, tripped up the
riding-master by the heels, took a walk upon his hands, or threw up to
the gas-light the soft felt caps, which he dexterously caught upon his
skull, where, one by one, they formed a pyramid; while at every trick
and every jest, his large droll face expanding with a smile, he uttered
the same catch-word, sometimes to a roll of music from the band,
"Slap-bang!" And every time he uttered it the audience roared and the
little fellow shouted with delight.
Slap-bang! It was this Slap-bang, the circus clown, he who kept half the
city laughing, whom little Francis wished to see, and whom, alas! he
could not see as he lay pale and feeble in his little bed.
That night Jacques brought the child a jointed clown, ablaze with
spangles, which he had bought at a high price. Four days' wages would
not pay for it; but he would willingly have given the price of a year's
labour, could he have brought a smile to the thin lips of the sick boy.
The child looked for a moment at the toy which sparkled on the
bed-quilt. Then he said, sadly, "That is not Slap-bang. I want to see
Slap-bang!"
If only Jacques could have wrapped him in the bed-clothes, borne him to
the circus, shown him the clown dancing under the blazing gas-lights,
and said, "Look there!"
But Jacques did better still. He went to the circus, obtained the
clown's address, and then, with legs tottering with nervousness and
agitation, climbed slowly up the stairs which led to the great man's
apartment. It was a bold task to undertake! Yet actors, after all, go
sometimes to recite or sing at rich men's houses. Who knew but that the
clown, at any price he liked, would consent to go to say good-day to
little Francis? If so, what matter his reception?
But was _this_ Slap-bang, this charming person, called Monsieur Moreno,
who received him in his study like a doctor, in the midst of books and
pictures, and all the luxury of art! Jacques looked at him, and could
not recognise the clown. He turned and twisted his felt hat between his
fingers. The other waited. At last the poor fellow began to stammer out
excuses: "It was unpardonable--a thing unheard of--that he had come to
ask; but the fact was, it was about his little boy--such a pretty little
boy, sir! and so clever! Always first in his class--except in
arithmetic, which he did not understand. A dreamy little chap--too
dreamy--as you may see"--Jacques stopped and stammered; then screwing up
his courage he continued with a rush--"as you may see by the fact that
he wants to see you, that he thinks of nothing else, that you are before
him always, like a star which he has set his mind on----"
Jacques stopped. Great beads stood on his forehead and his face was very
pale. He dared not look at the clown, whose eyes were fixed upon him.
What had he dared to ask the great Slap-bang? What if the latter took
him for a madman, and showed him to the door?
"Where do you live?" demanded Slap-bang.
"Oh! close by. The Rue des Abbesses!"
"Come!" said the other; "the little fellow wants to see Slap-bang--well,
he _shall_ see him."