A RECORD COLLECTION.
When the parade was over, and it attracted so much attention that
Cæsar predicted a bumper house for the evening, the Tambys made a very
good dinner upon what was still left in Madame Pradère's bountiful
basket, and then Nadine and Cæsar gave the finishing touches to the
arrangements for the performance.
What the little mountebanks called somewhat grandly their theater, was
really but a few planks placed upon trestles not more than a yard high.
The stage was about three yards long by as many deep, and there was a
drop-curtain of calico sadly the worse for wear, while the back was
closed in by a bit of canvas upon which had been painted some trees
with the idea of conveying the notion of a forest.
It was all pathetically simple and shabby, yet Nadine somehow managed
by dint of her ingenuity, aided by her excellent taste, to make it look
better than one would imagine, by adding sundry little decorative
touches such as only a woman's hand could bestow.
Half-past seven came, and already not only small boys but grown-up
people also began to secure their seats upon the planks, the chairs in
front being of course all reserved for Madame Pradère and her guests.
A few minutes before eight the soldiers appeared in great number, and
the young Tambys would have had a difficult job keeping them out of the
reserved seats but for the presence of the gendarme, who called out at
the top of his big voice:
"You cannot take those chairs. They are reserved for certain
distinguished patrons as you will soon see. Let me tell you, then, not
to sit on them."
"Oh! we're not deaf. We can hear you all right," retorted the soldiers,
making haste to settle themselves in the best places that were still
available.
When eight o'clock struck and neither Madame Pradère nor the other
guests put in an appearance the spectators commenced to shout:
"Curtain! Curtain!" and to utter shrill cries of impatience.
It was the soldiers that called out "Curtain!" after the fashion
of the "gods" in the galleries of the real theaters which they had
attended in the cities.
Nadine and Cæsar got very nervous, but they did not dare to begin
before the arrival of Madame Pradère.
At this juncture their good friend the gendarme came to their relief.
"Stupid that I am!" he exclaimed. "Haven't I forgotten to tell you
that Madame, the Mayoress, will not be here until half-past eight, in
time to hear you sing. You can therefore give the first part of your
performance."
This information removed all their difficulties. The regulation three
knocks were given and the curtain rose.
Cæsar, clothed in a long red gown, and wearing a hat shaped like a
sugar-loaf after the usual manner of magicians, was revealed standing
beside a table covered with a Turkish table-cloth, on which were
arranged the glasses and double-bottomed boxes which are indispensable
to sleight-of-hand performers.
Cæsar's tricks went off very well indeed, and, encouraged by the size
and hearty interest of the spectators, he quite eclipsed himself.
There were several hundred gathered, and among them a number of
children who were especially eager to see the different acts in which
Nalla, Steady, and Vigilant appeared.
The soldiers, too, who often behave like a lot of children, grew
impatient, and began to shout for the animals. They even attempted to
imitate them, one grunting like the elephant, another neighing like the
horse, and the third barking like the dog.
But the animals were tethered out of sight behind the van, and did not
make their appearance.
When the clamor became too insistent Cæsar came to the front of the
stage, and held up his hand to ask for silence:
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said with remarkable composure for a mere
boy. "We are now about to show you some _tableaux vivants_. For these
we ask of you complete silence, and a little patience. The exhibition
of the animals will be given very soon. We will carry out the entire
program as announced, and we beg of you in return, if you are satisfied
with our performance, to be no less liberal with your money than with
your applause."
This little speech quite took the fancy of the crowd, who cheered
it heartily, and were about to settle down again to look and listen
attentively when the sound of approaching carriages made itself heard.
Nadine's heart leaped for joy. Here at last were Madame Pradère and her
guests. The performance would be honored with their presence after all.
A moment later they appeared, Madame leading the way, her comely
countenance covered with smiles, and accompanied by several of her lady
friends, while Monsieur Pradère and a dozen of the officers followed
in her train, among them being the Colonel, who had thus fulfilled his
promise.
This was a great surprise to the rest of the spectators, for certainly
it had never been known before that ladies should be present at an
open-air performance by mountebanks, while the soldiers were not less
surprised to see their officers patronizing such an affair.
This, then, was the explanation of the reserved seats, and for a brief
space the first-comers found it more interesting than the items on
the program. By so happy a hit the little Tamby family had advanced
wonderfully in the estimation of the spectators, who said to themselves
that in order to attract such distinguished patrons as the Pradères
and their friends they must have some very unusual acts in their
repertoire, and no doubt deserved to be called the little artists.
Nadine at once went forward to bow to Madame Pradère, and to thank her
for the honor of her presence, and her kindness to the orphans.
Madame Pradère made light of that, but went on to say with an
encouraging smile:
"My child, I came especially to hear you sing, for I believe that you
can tell us pretty things that we do not yet know. So proceed, my
little girl. We are here to listen to you."
Nadine courtesied gracefully, and disappeared behind the curtain. When
the curtain rose again she was disclosed in the middle of the stage
with her little sister seated near while Cæsar stood ready to accompany
her with a mandolin.
A perfect silence fell upon the audience. The girl looked so pretty and
modest that she won all hearts, and everybody was in the mood to listen
to her with appreciative attention.
She began with a curiously rhythmical prelude, about which there was at
the same time something sweet, sad, and strange that gripped the hearts
of her hearers. Then in a superb contralto voice, and with exquisite
taste, she broke forth into song.
As Madame Pradère had expected, Nadine's singing was out of the usual
order. She was telling in song the pitiful story of a mother who had
lost her reason after the death of her only child.
The poor woman, wandering among the mountains of Bohemia, confides her
grief to the passing winds, to the echoes murmuring unintelligible
things, to the flowers nodding and smiling in response to the caresses
of the evening breeze.
In her madness she imagines that the soul of her child has taken refuge
in one of the flowers which bestrew her pathway, and she goes from one
to the other of them repeating her touching refrain:
"Tell me, O flower! is it you that hides the soul of my child which
was taken away from me by death?" Then realizing the futility of her
inquiries she breaks out into sudden and terrible imprecations: "O
death, you merciless monster! Why did you take my child from me? You
are a foul fiend!" and more after the same fashion.
But presently her mood changes, and, forgetting her sorrow, she begins
to sing to the same flowers that she had been cursing, in words of
infinite tenderness, such as mothers use to their darling babes.
When Nadine ceased singing instead of a burst of applause there was
absolute silence. So completely had she taken possession of her
audience by the pathos and beauty of her song that they were unwilling
to break the spell, and not until she bowed, and withdrew, did the
applause break forth.
Then it was simply thunderous. From every side came cries of:
"Bravo! bravo! encore! encore!"
Blushing and smiling and with her heart throbbing joyously Nadine,
looking more charming than ever, returned, and repeated the last verse
of the song, putting into it such profound expression and such winning
tenderness that many eyes were filled with tears.
At this moment Madame Pradère called little Lydia to her and said,
smiling through the tears that brimmed her beautiful eyes:
"My pet, you should now take up the collection. It is just the right
time for it. Nadine has touched the people's hearts and they will
not refuse to put their hands in their pockets. Will they, Colonel
Laurier?" turning to the officer who sat upon her right.
"No, indeed!" he responded warmly, slipping his own hand into his
pocket whence came the significant jingle of coin. "This crowd will
give a fine collection I am sure."
"Very well, Madame, I'll run and tell Nadine," responded Lydia, bowing
prettily, and she darted off behind the curtain, which rose the next
instant showing Cæsar ready to announce the remainder of the program.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said with quite a grand air, as if fully
appreciating the importance of what he had to tell them. "We are now to
have the honor of presenting to you the famous trained elephant Nalla
in his wonderful acts of intelligence and skill. He is the wisest and
kindest elephant in captivity. He understands everything we say to him,
and he can talk a little to us in his own way. There is no other such
elephant on the continent. We call him our breadwinner because he is
the chief attraction of our little show. Before he appears Mademoiselle
Lydia will pass amongst you, and will be pleased to receive whatever
you may see fit to give in return for the amusement we have provided
this evening, and while she is doing this, if you have no objection, I
will play a few tunes upon my mandolin. If any one present desires a
particular air I shall be very happy to play it if I know how."
Having made this clever little speech with exceeding good grace, Cæsar
took up his instrument and in response to the request of one of the
officers, began the solo of the Toreador from "Carmen," which he gave
with great spirit.
Meanwhile Nadine accompanied Lydia, who, holding a wooden bowl in her
hand, began the round of the spectators.
Now on ordinary occasions this was the critical stage of the
performance for the young mountebanks, as upon what it yielded depended
the grave question of the morrow's bread, and too often, alas! the
results were pitifully meager! Many a time had poor little Nadine, upon
whom the chief burden of responsibility rested, found it hard to keep
back the tears when, as Lydia set out with her bowl, the majority of
those who had been watching the performance turned their backs upon the
children who had been doing their best to amuse them. Ah! yes, many a
time had Nadine, who had learned by experience to gauge her audience
pretty accurately by one glance at them, felt her heart sink at the
critical moment.
But this time nobody slipped away. They all remained in their places,
and seemed eager to respond to the appeal about to be made.
Nadine first led Lydia up to Madame Pradère, who had called for her
that she might be the first to drop a coin into her bowl.
Lydia, as was her custom, repeated in her childish quavering voice, the
words:
"For the little Tambys, ladies and gentlemen, a trifle if you please."
But it looked as if she would be more than taken at her word, for Madame
Pradère set a fine example by dropping a gold piece into the bowl!
When Nadine saw this the color rose in her charming face, and she
murmured in a voice that trembled with feeling:
"Oh, Madame, thank you! thank you!"
"Never mind thanks, continue your round," laughed Madame Pradère giving
Lydia a gentle push towards the Colonel. Then, turning to Nadine,
she added: "You have given me a great deal of pleasure, my sweet
one, I assure you, and we shall want you to sing something more for
us--another song about a child, if you can, you can do it with such
expression. It goes right to one's heart."
"I shall be glad to do as you desire, Madame," responded Nadine, and,
with a graceful bow, she followed Lydia, whose little cries of joy
showed that her mission was proving successful beyond precedent. In
fact she was receiving white money--nothing but white money--no dark
coins at all. She had never before had such good fortune, and in her
joy she forgot her sister's admonitions, and danced about exclaiming:
"Another, Nadine, and another! and still another!"
But Nadine did not attempt to restrain her, for she saw that the people
were amused with the child's artless demonstrations.
When she had been to all the reserved seats, she turned to the soldiers
and workmen who were in the rear, and none of them failed to put in a
few sous, although, of course, they gave no silver.
Twice did Lydia empty her bowl into Nadine's lap. It was the first time
the Tamby family had taken so much at a performance, and their hearts
glowed with joy and gratitude, while the spectators awaited the second
part of the program with lively interest.