Monday, 20th
Carnival is almost over and the city is very lively.
A shed for selling art. There was also a cloth shed under our window, a circus class from Venice, with five horses to sell here. The shed was set up in the middle of the square, and three horse-drawn carriages were parked on the side. The sellers slept and dressed up in this car, as if three houses were just wheels attached. Each carriage had windows and chimneys, and smoke was constantly rising.
Between the windows were the clothes of the babies, and the women sometimes held the babies to feed, sometimes cooked, and sometimes had to walk the ropes. wretched! Usually, it seems that people who sell art are not people, but in fact, they bring entertainment to people and live a life with integrity! yes! How hard they are! On such a cold day, he wore only a thin piece of clothing all day long and ran around the cloth shed and the horse workshop. Stand and eat one or two bites of food, waiting for a break. After the audience in the shed is full, if the wind blows for a while, blows the rope off or blows out the lamp, everything is over! They had to pay the audience back, apologize to the audience, and fix the shed overnight. There are two children in this circus class. One of the younger ones, when he was walking in the square, my father saw him, and he knew that it was the son of the head of the class, who performed equestrianism in the square of Vittorio Emanuele last year, and we had seen him, and he was much older, about eight years old. He had a clever round face, his jet-black hair exposed on the outside of his conical hat, dressed as a clown, with white sleeves and black embroidery on his clothes, and cloth shoes on his feet. It was a happy kid and everyone liked him. He could do anything, get up in the morning and put on a fence to get milk, pull the horses out of the temporarily rented stables in the alley, manage the babies, carry the iron rings, the stools, the sticks and the ropes, clean the carriages, light the lights, and do it. In his free time, he still wrapped himself around his mother. My father used to look at him from the window and just talk about him. His parents did not seem to be inferior and were said to love him very much.
In the evening, we went to the shed to watch the play. It was a cold day and there weren't many spectators. But the child tried very hard to please this few spectators, either by jumping from a height, or pulling on the horse's tail to perform riding, or walking alone on the rope, and singing with a smile on the cute black face. His father wore a red coat and white pants. Foot in boots, took the whip, watched his son perform, and seemed to have a sad look on his face.
My father was very poor for the little boy, and the next day he talked to the visiting painter Delisman: "Their family is really working hard, but the business is not good, it is very difficult!" Long Qi is the little boy, I like him very much, but is there any way to help them? ”
The painter clapped his hands: "I have thought of a good way!" Please write an article and send it to the Gazeda Daily. You can make a fuss and skillfully describe the masterpiece of that little artist. I'll paint a portrait of the kid. The Gazeda Daily is not read by anyone, and their business will surely flourish at once. ”
Father then wrote an essay, which was interesting and moving to see from the window, and the painter drew a beautiful portrait that appeared in the Saturday newspaper. Unsurprisingly, the next day's circus, the audience increased dramatically, and there was almost no place to stand in the field. The audience was holding the Gazeda Daily in their hands, and some showed it to the child. The children jumped around with joy, and the class was happy because their names had never been reported. Father sat next to me. There were many acquaintances in the audience, and near the entrance to the stable, there was a gymnastics teacher standing, who had been a subordinate of General Garibaldi. Opposite me, the little mason leaned against his tall father with his small round face 0 holes. As soon as he saw me, he immediately put on a rabbit face. Further down, Carlofi stood, his fingers counting the number of spectators and tickets. Near us, poor Robertie, leaning on his father, the artillery captain, with a cane in his lap.
The show opened. The little entertainer performed all kinds of stunts on horses, on stools, on ropes. Every time he leapt to the ground, the audience applauded, and some touched his little head. Other artists also take turns to dedicate various skills. However, the audience's mind is only him, and when he does not appear, the audience is disappointed.
After a while, the gymnastics teacher standing near the entrance to the stable approached the head of the class, did not know what to say, looked around as if looking for someone, and finally looked at us. He was probably telling the class who the contributors were. My father, as if afraid to be thanked by them, said to me, "Enrico! You see here, I'll wait for you outside. "Went out of the way.
The boy spoke to his father for a while, and then came to offer all kinds of skills. He stands
On galloping horses, pretending to be pilgrims, sailors, soldiers, and rope walkers, he always looked at me every time he passed me. As soon as he got off the horse, he walked in circles with the clown's hat in his hand, and the audience invested some money in it, and some cast candy. I was preparing two Soldo to wait for him to come, but when he came near me, instead of sticking out his hat, he retracted and watched me walk over. I was very upset and thought, why is he like this?
After the performance, after the head of the class thanked the audience, everyone got up and squeezed out of the field. I was squeezed into the audience as I was playing when I felt someone touching my hand. Looking back, it turned out to be the little entertainer. The little black face with black hair hanging down on it smiled at me, holding candy in his hand. I saw him like that, and only then did I understand what he meant.
"Won't you take a little bit of candy?" He said in his native voice.
I nodded and took two or three.
"Please let me kiss you!" He said again.
"Please kiss me twice!" I looked up. He wiped the white powder from his face with his hand, grabbed my neck with his wrist, kissed me twice on the face, and said, "Here's one, please bring it to your father!" ”