SIR BOOUM CALLS UPON MOTHER ETIENNE
Just about this time placards were posted about the whole village,
announcing the arrival of a Great American Circus, bringing in its
train the most wonderful spectacles. Menageries,--curiosities of
all kinds, such as had not been seen since the time of the
Caesars.
Incredible things were on show. Nobody, however small their purse,
could resist the pleasure of witnessing these sights. Nobody, that
is, except the people in and around this village.
The menagerie prepared for its performance by splendid
processions. Caparisoned in gold the elephants marched around.
There were horses of all colours and of all sizes, dromedaries,
rhinoceroses, black men and white monkeys, bands of musicians,
fairy chariots.
The inhabitants saw the gorgeous procession pass with
indifference, with a superior kind of air and without the least
enthusiasm.
On the evening of the first performance, in spite of the placards,
processions, bands, notices, and illuminations, nobody appeared at
the ticket-office of the theatre and they played to an empty
house.
"What," cried the impresario, tearing his hair. "Crowds flocked to
me in London, Paris, St. Petersburg, and New York. I have been
congratulated by the Shah of Persia, invited to lunch by the Grand
Turk, and this little hole despises me, mocks at me, considers me
a failure."
The lights out, Sir Booum spent a terrible night, wondering what
evil genius could thus attack his laurels. At dawn, worn out by
his sleepless night, he set out, eager to learn the cause of his
failure.
All those whom he met winked knowingly, laughing in their sleeves,
and courtesied to him without giving him any information. At last
one, touched by his despair, answered:
"Why should we come to you? We have here in this very place, where
we can see it for nothing, a marvel beside which yours are
commonplace. Have you in your menagerie a curly-haired hen?"
"A curly-haired hen!" cried Sir Booum. "Gracious, goodness me!
What are you talking about? Three times have I been round the
world and have never heard of such a thing."
"Go to the big farm down yonder and you can see the one I am
telling you about. You will be ashamed to think how uninteresting
in comparison are the things you show."
A few minutes later, a magnificent equipage, driven by an elegant
gentleman and drawn by two light bays, entered the courtyard of
the big farm.
"Does Madame Etienne live here, please?" he asked Petit-Jacques,
who was busy grooming Coco.
"Yes, sir."
"Will you kindly give her this card and ask if she will see me?"
"Certainly, sir, at once."
Petit-Jacques returned a few minutes later with Mother Etienne.
The gentleman got down from his seat, handing the reins to his
groom.
"Excuse me, Madame. I am Sir Booum. It was my circus which gave
its first performance here yesterday as announced on the placards
posted on the walls throughout the village.
I have heard, Madame, that you have a most extraordinary hen, and
I have come to beg you to show it to me. If it is really such as
it was described to me, I will buy it at once."
"Sir," said Mother Etienne, "I am very pleased to meet you; I will
show you Yollande as you ask, but sell her to you?--never. I love
the dear thing far too well to part with her."
"But, Madame, if I give you a large sum? How much do you ask? Name
your figure."
Mother Etienne, without answering a word, went off to fetch the
Cochin-China hen to show to her visitor.
American as he was, he was astounded and was soon convinced that
there had been no exaggeration. This was indeed the curly-haired
hen.
"Well, Madame, how much is it to be?--$1,000, $2,000, $4,000?
Can't you make up your mind?"
"No, sir, please don't insist. I do not want to part with dear
Yollande," and Mother Etienne, distressed and trembling, covered
her hen with caresses.
In vain the American urged. His eyes shone with the desire to
include this marvel in his collection. He could do nothing, and
was finally obliged to retreat.
"Night brings counsel, Madame. I will return tomorrow to visit
you, and I hope you will then decide in my favour. Until tomorrow,
then, Madame."
The gentleman bowed politely and got into his carriage. The
equipage left the courtyard, turned onto the high road, and was
lost in the distance in a cloud of golden dust.