Part 18 (2/2)
”At your service.”
”Well, we've been waiting for you. Take a seat; you'll have coffee with us.”
The man took a seat. His appearance was decidedly comical,--a blend of humility, braG.o.doccio and sad arrogance. He gazed at the place that Roberto had just abandoned, in which remained a sc.r.a.p of roast meat.
”Pardon me,” he said to Roberto. ”You're not intending to finish that sc.r.a.p? No? Then.... with your permission--” and he took the plate, the knife and the fork.
”I'll order another beefsteak for you,” said Roberto.
”No, no. It's one of my whims. I imagine that this meat must be good.
Would you kindly let me have a slice of bread?” he added, turning to Manuel. ”Thanks, young man. Many thanks.”
The man bolted the meat and bread in a trice.
”What? Is there a little wine left?” he asked, smiling.
”Yes,” replied Manuel, emptying the bottle into the man's gla.s.s.
”All right,” answered the man in ill-p.r.o.nounced English as he gulped it down. ”Gentlemen! At your service. I believe you wished to ask me something.”
”Yes.”
”At your service, then. My name is Alonso de Guzman Calderon y Tellez.
This same fellow that's talking to you now has been director of a circus in America; I've travelled through all the countries and sailed over every sea in the world; at present I'm adrift in a violent tempest; at night I go from cafe to cafe with this phonograph, and the next morning I carry around one of these betting apparatuses that consists of an _Infiel_[1] Tower with a spiral. Underneath the tower there's a s.p.a.ce with a spring that shoots a little bone ball up the spiral, and then the bone falls upon a board perforated with holes and painted in different colours. That is my livelihood. I! Director of an equestrian circus! This is what I've descended to; an a.s.sistant to Tabuenca. What things come to pa.s.s in this world!”
[Footnote 1: i.e. Faithless. A pun on Eiffel.]
”I should like to ask you,” interrupted Roberto, ”if during your residence in Cuco's hostelry you ever made the acquaintance of a certain Rosita Buenavida, a circus acrobat.”
”Rosita Buenavida! You say that her name was Rosita Buenavida?... No, I don't recall.... I did have a Rosita in my company; but her name wasn't Buenavida (i. e., Goodlife); she'd have been better named Evil-life and evil habits, too.”
”Perhaps she changed her name,” said Roberto impatiently. ”What age was the Rosita that you knew?”
”Well, I'll tell you; I was in Paris in '68; had a contract with the Empress Circus. At that time I was a contortionist and they called me the Snake-Man; then I became an equilibrist and adopted the name of Don Alonso. Alonso is my name. After four months of that Perez and I--Perez was the greatest gymnast in the world--went to America, and two or three years later we met Rosita, who must have been about twenty-five or thirty at that time.”
”So that the Rosita you're talking about should be sixty-odd years old today,” computed Roberto. ”The one I'm looking for can't be more than thirty at most.”
”Then she's not the one. Caramba, how sorry I am!” murmured Don Alonso, seizing the gla.s.s of coffee and milk and raising it to his lips as if he feared it were going to be wrested from him. ”And what a sweet little girl she was! She had eyes as green as a cat's. Oh, she was a pretty chit, a peach.”
Roberto had sunk into meditation; Don Alonso continued his chatter, turning to Manuel:
”There's no life like a circus artist's,” he exclaimed. ”I don't know what your profession is, and I don't want to disparage it; but if you're looking for art.... Ah, Paris, the Empress Circus,--I'll never forget them! Of course, Perez and I had luck; we created a furore there, and I needn't mention what that means. Oh, that was the life.... Nights, after our performance, we'd get a note: 'Will be waiting for you at such and such a cafe.' We'd go there and find one of your high-life women, a whimsical creature who'd invite a fellow to supper... and to all the rest. But other gymnasts came to the Empress Circus; the novelty of our act wore off, and the impresario, a Yankee who owned several companies, asked Perez and me if we wanted to go to Cuba. 'Right ahead,' said I. 'All right.'”
”Have you been in Cuba?” asked Roberto, roused from his abstraction.
”I've been in so many places!” replied the Snake-Man. ”We embarked at Havre,” continued Don Alonso, ”on a vessel called the Navarre, and we were in Havana for about eight months; while we were performing there we struck it big, Perez and I, and won twenty thousand gold pesos in the lottery.”
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