ehold! at the Sunday performance a great crowd
rushed to the circus. The announcement was made: _Performance for the
Benefit of the Little Harlequin_, as he was styled in the _Gazette_. The
circus was crammed; many of the spectators held the _Gazette_ in their
hands, and showed it to the little harlequin, who laughed and ran from
one to another, perfectly delighted. The proprietor was delighted also.
Just fancy! Not a single newspaper had ever done him such an honor, and
the money-box was filled. My father sat beside me. Among the spectators
we found persons of our acquaintance. Near the entrance for the horses
stood the teacher of gymnastics--the one who has been with Garibaldi;
and opposite us, in the second row, was the little mason, with his
little round face, seated beside his gigantic father; and no sooner did
he catch sight of me than he made a hare's face at me. A little further
on I espied Garoffi, who was counting the spectators, and calculated on
his fingers how much money the company had taken in. On one of the
chairs in the first row, not far from us, there was also poor Robetti,
the boy who saved the child from the omnibus, with his crutches between
his knees, pressed close to the side of his father, the artillery
captain, who kept one hand on his shoulder. The performance began. The
little harlequin accomplished wonders on his horse, on the trapeze, on
the tight-rope; and every time that he jumped down, every one clapped
their hands, and many pulled his curls. Then several others,
rope-dancers, jugglers, and riders, clad in tights, and sparkling with
silver, went through their exercises; but when the boy was not
performing, the audience seemed to grow weary. At a certain point I saw
the teacher of gymnastics, who held his post at the entrance for the
horses, whisper in the ear of the proprietor of the circus, and the
latter instantly glanced around, as though in search of some one. His
glance rested on us. My father perceived it, and understood that the
teacher had revealed that he was the author of the article, and in order
to escape being thanked, he hastily retreated, saying to me:--

"Remain, Enrico; I will wait for you outside."

After exchanging a few words with his father, the little harlequin went
through still another trick: erect upon a galloping horse, he appeared
in four characters--as a pilgrim, a sailor, a soldier, and an acrobat;
and every time that he passed near me, he looked at me. And w