Chapter III

The Dream of Two Artists

I therefore now will relate Tito’s and Bianca’s story as if they were both characters in a novel. I am sure my readers will imagine if they read until the end, that it’s pure fiction whereas  know that we can trust the circumstances were real and it’s the absolute truth.

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The Baretti circus was a company which earned a lot of money to its owner. Thirty artists and acrobats formed the bas of the troupe; they gave performances in cities as well as villages. In main cities and good society, some boxes were reserved to every night to the elegant public who loved to slum it within a fairground performance. Father Barretti asked even people to come dressed up for those in the front seats. He was a clever fellow who knew how to keep up his circus as well as seat prices. It didn't prevent the circus to come back to its usual good-natured life, once the artist removed their sequined costumes, silk leotards or their well tailored suits, they went back with great pleasure to their usual outfits and enjoyed life. Bianca, glowing with youth and blond beauty, formed with Tito the main attraction of the performance; her grace made her acclaimed even before she started her number, her smile brought her flowers, visits, cards, compliments, invitations to dine out as if she was a star with advertising in the newspapers.

As for Tito, he appeared to the public only under the white-faced mask of a clown, but he contributed a lot to enliven singularly Bianca's number because of his wit and he knew how to improvise with lightness according to the public who filled the seats.

He was liked equally by the elegant public or by peasants; he was a good guitar player, an excellent acrobat, eccentric dancer; he charmed, he made people laughed and nobody knew how to get the best out of any event on the ring and make something new out of it.

Father Barretti called them his two children, which was an affectionate way to keep them at his disposal because the shrewd director had a sensitive heart and knew how to keep those he loved.

Circus work is relentless, the training is daily. For a perfect number, performers have to train constantly and maintain in perfect shape the suppleness of their muscle.

Tito and Bianca spent the whole day in their black cotton singlet full of tears worn indistinctly stars, extras and minor parts. They didn't talk much only to put right their number, to precise a movement, to get an extra effect. They advised each others, one totally submissive to the other, accepting orders and their association had never know any hitch in their friendship.

But, in the evening, they would take advantage of their mutual constraint following the hour of performance.

As soon as the last spectator had left, the lights were turned off; artists recover a freedom which they enjoy to the full. They never think of tomorrow, a tomorrow that seems so remote, at least a year's time away that one will never reach it. They do not think of the daily workload anymore: they are gay when they got applause; sad, a little, when something didn't turn out right; elated when the evening was more brilliant then usual and the director, the only god under the tent, made a compliment.

And, in their childish and romantic souls, it's the time when the moon rises and they think about thousands strange things that wouldn't have occurred to them during the day. Tito and Bianca loved each other: they loved; we can say it, since the first day when they worked together. In the circus world, they belonged to a certain cast: their tastes above the vulgar, their desires above that of the normal mentality of this little people without ideals. Their ambition served them. Not that they wanted to rise above human society, nor to envisage impossible fortunes; but they had the same artistic tastes.

They were shocked by everything commonplace or facile. Naturally – because it wasn't for an unquenchable desire for wealth – they wanted to do better and conquer their rank. They had known each other for already three months when one evening, in a small Mediterranean town with terracotta tiled roofs, a holiday resort, Tito asked Bianca to come with him by the seaside, after the performance. He took his banjo, but that evening it wasn't to study a complex tune, it was only to accompany softly the words that sang in his heart and perhaps he couldn't utter.

Mr Barretti always looked for the most favourable location to set up his camp; if he didn't look at the landscape, he knew nevertheless a set's value, not only for spectators, but also for the artists' mindset. A happy man works better than a sad person, especially if he accomplishes a job that requires eloquence and some nervous excitement. The trailers were lined up on a cliff crowned by huge pine trees and one could hear, from they grassy platform, the sea breaking on the rocks.

Tito and Bianca settled on the small ladder leading to their bedrooms and seating there, side by side, head against head, they whispered affectionate and tender words. Tender, at least, without their knowledge, because they hadn't exchanged any passionate promises which come much later on to the lips of shy and respectful beings.

It started in a pretty unremarkable way.

- The weather is very beautiful tonight, said Tito.

And Bianca who thought of something far deeper, answered:

- Yes, the wind is coming.

Afterwards, there was a silence during which they watched a small steamboat that disappeared on the horizon as if it was running towards the rising day. Its smoke trailed behind him, just a shade darker than the sky, and the white spot of its hull shone strangely in the moonlight. Tito stooped plying his banjo right in the middle of a tune.

- Bianca!

She turned her head a little more towards him.

- Tito!

He looked at the sea, following his far-off but precise thoughts.

- Bianca, do you think we could get married one day?

She must have expected such a conversation, but, still, she quivered a bit; it's usually the words we are expecting the most that causes the greatest joy and sometimes suffering. This time, it filled the young girl's heart with joy. She didn't answer immediately, but, grabbing Tito's hand which was still on the banjo, she held it affectionately.

She whispered very low and softly:

- Yes, Tito! I think we can.

So the die was cast; hearts beat together. The harmony was perfect as their understanding when they were playing to the public, one knowing exactly what the other was thinking even when they were not talking. It was really a glorious night.

- One day, said Tito, we'll live our dream; we'll climb higher and higher.

She joked:

- Are you thinking of a new trapeze number tonight?

- Yes, he said, we'll do the new balancing act we rehearse together. I only wanted to talk about that.

They had a good time together, thinking already of another thing. And, in the dark, their eyes searched each other and their hands clasped each other.

- To this dear finger, said Tito, I'll put a ring.

And he lightly kissed the tip of the ring finger she gave him.

She added:

- One day, we'll have a home that isn't on wheels.

And both, hardly saying one word per minute, built castles in the air. Both believed in Providence, that night and trusted a worthy reward was due to their youthful love. Life will bloom in the sun in the deep joy of their work and rest together. Yes, it was a beautiful night as it saw the decision of Tito and Bianca's wedding.