Chapter II

Circus Artists

- They called me King Harlequin, started Tito, I was only twenty and I was very simply a circus clown, a buffoon, if you want. A circus artist, you know, is a man in a constant state of vagrancy, attached to a circus of which he is the ornament and whom on the pretext of earning a living, adores this perpetual travelling, from one country to another, sleeping in caravans or under the precarious shelter of canvas, living in a country only during the time where there is money to earn and moving to other places each time a fair, a local ceremony call him to entertain the crowds.

Bianca stopped him:

- Our director was called Father Barretti, she whispered.

I looked at her, astounded:

- What? Were you there as well, madam?

She looked at me directly:

- If I was there! You bet your life. At this time, I did a bit of everything: equilibrist or dancer according to the occasion, I juggled also with plates and knives. I was the target for an archery number as well.

Tito resumed the conversation:

- Nevertheless, he told his wife, don't forget that you main number was with me. While you did your trapeze exercises, I was in the ring and I played the guitar to amuse the public while you were resting and I must admit I was quite successful.

And I must admit that at that precise moment the married couple were holding hands under the table. I acted as if I hadn't seen anything.

- For heaven's sake, I told Tito, you interest me enormously; please go on with your story. It sounds even better than I thought.

He poured himself a glass of Asti Spumante, drank one mouthful and clicked his tongue.

- It reminds me, he said, of old times, because it's precisely in Italy, near the Mediterranean, that we started our career together, Bianca and I. You see, you shouldn't speak ill of the circus' wandering life: one wanders randomly, one is free without any hindrance or worry. One doesn't even think of tomorrow; the director deals with it better than one would… and I must admit that Father Barretti, whom Bianca mentioned, however old he was, knew his job superbly. He was impervious to the landscape; he went from city to city without any other law than fantasy and his guide was his instinct. He enjoyed his rowdy music. He listened to every piece. He loved his artists and his clowns; he was a nice old man.

- Do you remember how he presented me to the public? Said Bianca, blushing.

Tito started laughing.

- I can still hear him.

And suddenly standing, as if he saw himself as the peddler, he proclaimed, to the great surprise of the innkeeper who brought a tomato omelette:

- Ladies and gentlemen, we have the honour to present Bianca the inimitable, the intrepid queen of the air! Tonight, blindfolded, she will risk her life on the tightrope. As it's the first time she will attempt such an exercise, I ask you for the greatest silence, please don't forget! No exclamations, no bravo, hold your breath; do not applaud until she has gone down: THERE IS DANGER!

Bianca resumed:

- Every night, it was the same pitch and I must admit it worked. I am obsessed by applause, but at that time, I was pleased I managed.

- If you know, at the circus, how we are satisfied to present a perfect number! Added Tito; it's far more difficult than singing a song in public… thus, we had a comrade…

To my great regret, I saw the conversation taking a completely general retrospective turn; I wanted facts more than observations, a story not a commentary.

Tito perhaps understood this, because he stopped and put his hand on his wife's arm.

- If we go on like this, Bianca, our friend will never hear what he wants to know. These memories are just for us, we talk about it often together. He is a journalist and he needs a story. Let's give it to him, on the condition he never writes it… Do you swear?

I swore everything he asked.

Then they talked in a very concise way and I listened to them with all the attention of a listener who discovers suddenly an unknown page of life, a story that, precisely, he would have the greatest pleasure to share with his readers.

This is why, later, I wrote this story. But, I give it to the public only now because Bianca and Tito Formosa have allowed it.

That said, as I don't want to be accused of betraying my friends and I don't want to be charged with any sin on judgement day.