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 small, 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 farther on I espied Garoffi, who was counting the spectators, and calculating 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 clown did wonders on his horse, on the trapeze, on the tightrope; 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 acts; 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 saw this, 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:—
“You may stay, Enrico; I will wait for you outside.”
After exchanging a few words with his father, the
