She was at a corner
of a booth covered with flags, where the shows are given. Her
comrades, all in Polish costumes, were making a horrible racket. I
watched her standing there, silent and dumb, and I thought I saw a
melancholy expression in her face; in truth there was enough about her
to sadden a girl of twenty. That touched me."
The countess was sitting in a delicious attitude, pensive and rather
melancholy.
"Poor, poor Thaddeus!" she exclaimed. Then, with the kindliness of a
true great lady she added, not without a malicious smile, "Well go, go
to your Circus."
Thaddeus took her hand, kissed it, leaving a hot tear upon it, and
went out.
Having invented this passion for a circus-rider, he bethought him that
he must give it some reality. The only truth in his tale was the
momentary attention he had given to Malaga at Saint-Cloud; and he had
since seen her name on the posters of the Circus, where the clown, for
a tip of five francs, had told him that the girl was a foundling,
stolen perhaps. Thaddeus now went to the Circus and saw her again. For
ten francs one of the grooms (who take the place in circuses of the
dressers at a theatre) informed him that Malaga was named Marguerite
Turquet, and lived on the fifth story of a house in the rue des
Fosses-du-Temple.
The following day Paz went to the faubourg du Temple, found the house,
and asked to see Mademoiselle Turquet, who during the summer was
substituting for the leading horsewoman at the Cirque-Olympique, and a
supernumerary at a boulevard theatre in winter.
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