“I have touched you with my fingertips, and you…’ she began to laugh loudly.

“Wow! What a surprise! This will be our new number… Da-ad! Dad, come quickly. Look how I have dumped the admirer”

Rudolf Welzer appeared in the doorway as fast as if all this time he was listening behind the door and was waiting for an opportune moment to reveal his radiant face.

“Prostrate Hector,” he grinned, looking at Charles, who was sitting on the floor.

“Matilda, you are a genius. We can show this to the public. You will become the most, most, most famous amazon. We will create a suitable attire for you, and we will dress Hector in the skins. What do you say?’

“I can only shout bravo! Bravissimo, Matilda!’ Charles began to clap his hands.

“Enough,” the Director frowned. “You do not look like Hector. You are a soap bubble filled with arrogance. Plop, and you disappear, and you are gone. And nothing. Get up. Why are you sitting here? Go get dressed in your rags, put on your enormous red nose, whiten your face, and put makeup on your eyes and mouth to make our people laugh. Remember, I do not pay money for nothing. You have already received more than enough from me today. That’s it. Tell Lele not to come for a fee tomorrow. I will not give it.”

“Good night,” Charles said and went out.

The door behind him slammed. He smiled.

“So, the ending of our romance dots. Let’s see how this action, acting will be developing further. We will be laughing afterwards if we feel like… Well, we will forgive fools for their hasty laughter.”

Monday was the day off in the circus. Charles could do whatever he wanted on this day. He was lying in bed for a long time. He was hearing noises outside the window, tinkling of dishes, quiet conversations of Bebe and Lele, but he did not want to get up. He was basking in the soft space of dreaminess and reality, where everything was different. There was everything from birth to today’s Monday. The thought about the girl Simone made him open his eyes.

“Visit me in the boarding house of Madame La Rouge,” her voice began to sound in his mind.

“I wonder what is she like, this Madame La Rouge?” Charles thought and got up. He had breakfast, put on his new suit, and went to the boarding house to visit Simone Stowasser. The road was winding among the green hills, on which the houses with tightly closed shutters appeared like white spots. The absence of people. Ringing silence. Even birds were not singing. Only the sound of footsteps of Charles breaks the silent peace of these places, the quietest silence of the scenery, flooded with sunlight. Charles began to think that the girl had made fun of him, that there was no the boarding house of Madame La Rouge, that it was time to go back to the usual world of polyphonic cacophony. But the road swerved sharply to the right and ran into bronze, wrought gate, behind which there was a house. It was not a house but a tower, covered with ivy. At a little distance, there was a low building with deep night eyes of windows and an open terrace. Someone came out the door to meet Charles a very beautiful, very tall lady with huge brown eyes rimmed in dark lashes on the swarthy face with terracotta blush. Her voice is the sound of the cello: “Good afternoon, Monsieur. Did you come to visit your cousin?”

“I have come to see you,” Charles almost blurted out but bethought in time.

“I would like to see Simone,” he smiled.

“Paula, call miss Stowasser,” the lady said, looking at Charles. He, accustomed to the army of eyes aimed at him, was confused by her gaze, blushed, and looked down.

“I should warn you, Monsieur…”

“Charles,” he introduced himself.

“Monsieur Charles, we do not allow our pupils to leave the boarding house on Mondays,” her voice reached his ears like gentle music.

“Keep talking, keep talking,” Charles mentally begs her, not daring to raise his eyes. He sees a long chocolate dress, from under which sparkling elegant shoes with rounded noses appear.

“On the last Sunday of each month, we allow pupils to go to town. But they must come back by six o’clock. We are responsible for our pupils. They live here until they turn twenty years, and then they marry. But it is early for Simone to think about it… She is still so young,” the lady went to the window. She paused for a moment. She turned.

“I am glad you havecome. Mr. Schtanzer seldom visits Simone,” the lady took Charles by the arm and led him through the long green corridor.

“Simone is my best pupil. She is a very talented girl. She remembers all the works of Shakespeare by heart, plays music beautifully, embroiders, draws, and plays the piano. You should be proud of your cousin, Monsieur Charles. And here she is.”

Charles raised his head. A strange creature, dressed in a floor-length black skirt, black blouse with cuffs that reminded grips, the trap of the collar that was squeezing the thin neck, emerged from the depths of the green room to meet him. Black blunt toes of crude shoes could be seen from under the skirt. Her hair was smoothly combed and tied at the back of her head in a tight knot. It was hard to figure out the colour of her hair, whether it was dark gray, dark brown, or black. The face was pale. Her eyes were frightened. She looked surprised.

“You?” her mouth was half-open. She wanted to add something but changed her mind.

Charles is looking at her without blinking. He does not recognize her. She is not that girl angel with huge cherry bows, rosy face, and clear merry eyes. It is not Simone. This girl looks older. She looks much more serious than that little girl. She looks different. He sees her for the first time. He has not come to visit her. Charles does not have time to say anything, the lady pushes him forward.

“Why are you, Monsieur Charles, so confused? I thought you were a brave man,” she said ironically. “Didn’t you expect to see the girl in such a strange attire? I can’t help, as this is a frightening fashion for the pupils of the boarding house.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Charles Benosh,” the girl slowly pronounces, holding out her hand. The hint of a smile appears on her face. The voice was dull. It sounded strange, distant.

“Simone, you can go for a walk in the garden,” the lady says and leaves, rustling her chocolate skirt.

“Simone, is that really you?” Charles asked in a whisper.

“And is that really you, Charles?” she whispers. He nods. She smiles.

“I did not think you were coming. Or rather, I was thinking about you but I was sure that you would never come. And you arrived…”

“I did not arrive but came,” he smiles. “Where does a poor actor get money for the carriage?”

“You look like a real dandy,” she said.

“I did not recognize you right away. I was waiting for the red-haired clown, and you… At first, I thought that uncle Schwartz sent one of his clerks. I got confused. I got angry. Why did he do this? Why are strangers here? What will I do with a stranger? What can we talk about? I wanted to send you away, that is, that another clerk, but I did not manage to do this when Madame La Rouge called your name. I felt relieved. Can I hug you?”

He did not manage to answer when she pressed herself against him with the whole body, froze, pushed him away, and whispered:

 
“Hugs are the contact of the souls.
To your chest I cherish,
And to unknown for me your world,
Along the secret path, I vanish.
Let’s go for a walk to the garden,”
 

she smiled, took Charles by the hand, and led the way. The path, on which they were walking, led to the mountain. A delicate summerhouse was hiding there, in the foliage of lush willow greenery.

“Look how beautiful it is here,” Simone said, smiling. “There is a tiny brook with ice water down there. It is always ice, even in the heat. Once I dived into it right in a dress. I did it on purpose. I wanted to check whether it was really ice water.’

“How was it?” having curiously looked at her, Charles asked.

“It was ice. Even my teeth were aching,” she said, having shivered. Simone looked different in the light of the sun. Black colour was emphasizing the pallor of her face with subtle features. And her hair seemed neither gray, nor brown, but golden. Back then, in the circus, he could not see it because of the huge bows. Now, she did not have bows but a tight knot at the back of her head, which made Simone look older.

“When I happily emerged from the water I was punished,” Simone smiled. “I spent the whole week in the tower covered with ivy. I was sitting by the window and wa imagining myself an enchanted princess, who must be saved by a knight on a white horse. It certainly should be a knight, he certainly should be on a white horse,” she began to laugh, having slightly thrown back her head.

“I was fantasizing so much that I even got disappointed when Paula said that I was free, that I could go downstairs to my room. I just did not feel like going downstairs. I felt so good at the top next to the clouds that I decided to do something forbidden. I ran here and…” she looked at Charles. “And I realized that here, on the hill, it was not worse than in the tower. It was even better because here was freedom. And one can see things that cannot be seen from the tower. There, on the right the crucifixion. The bronze crucifixion, polished by the hands of the pupils. Everyone wants to touch the feet, the hands and the body of the Saviour. But I like the fat Angel most, who is hiding among apple and cherry trees. No one ever goes to him. He is very, very old, although, he looks quite young, younger than us. He is a plump three-year-old baby. And yet, he is completely lonely. He is the same lonely as I am. Do you want to see him?”

And without waiting for a reply she rushed down the hill. Charles rushed after her. He wanted to laugh loudly. He had never had such a good and fun time. The wind was whistling in the ears. The skirt of Simone was rustling like a mouse in the corner. The music of nature was spreading over the garden like the song of a nightingale reaching from far away. Simone froze. Charles was standing next to her. In front of them, there was a white three-year-old baby with wings. He had the white plaster oval face, the searching lifeless eyes, and the plump lips.

“Do you like it?” taking a breath, Simone asked, having firmly gripped his hand.

“For you – yes, for me – no,” Charles replies.

Simone flushed from running fast. Her hair had gotten out the sleek hairstyle, having formed two beautiful curls at the temples.

“Tell me, why did you bring me here?” he asks, looking at her inspired face.

“I thought you were lonely like this Angel, like me,“she turns her head and looks into his eyes. “You, the little red-haired clown, were standing on a big arena, the audience was laughing, and it was not funny to me at all. It seemed to me that you were the Angel, the three-year-old toddler with a strict look of the lifeless eyes, forgotten by everybody. I thought that when the music stopped, the audience left, the circus were empty, you would be all alone. It is easier for me. There are many of us here.”

“I am not lonely,” Charles said. “I have friends-clowns, Bebe and Lele.”

“But, in spite of this, you are a lonely man, aren’t you?” she looked searchingly and released his hand from her hand. Released. Freed.

“Depends on what you consider loneliness,” Charles smiled, marvelling at astuteness of this child. In fact, he feels unbearably lonely among the crowds.

“I am talking about the loneliness of the soul,” she whispered. “Now I do not feel it. And you?”

“Me too,” he answered in a whisper.

“So, you want to come here again,” she said, having smiled.

“I suppose,” he said, having touched the plump hand of the Angel.

“Simone, it is time to go back,” a stern voice peeled from the hill.

“It is time to go back,” Simone sighed. “Paula is calling me.”

“Who is she, this Paula” Charles asked.

“Paula is a teacher. She is watching us, makes us wear these impervious, solemn and funerary attires. Even our legs are black,” Simone lifted her skirt, having shown Charles the leg in a black crude stocking. “I do not like Paula. She is evil and cruel.”

“And what about Madame La Rouge?” Charles asked, having remembered the hazeleyed, penetrating deep into the heart, look.

“I am afraid of her,” Simone confessed. “I am afraid of her beauty, her tender voice, her searching look. Sometimes I think that she is not who she claims to be. It is like she is playing a role, hiding her true face and feelings behind an impenetrable mask of coldness. You also put on a mask of the red-haired clown to be a clown, to hide your noble face from everyone and even from yourself.”

“Simone!” the voice of Paula was heard nearby.

“Let’s go,” Simone said, squeezing the hand of Charles. She captures him again. She wins. They go up slowly. They are silent. At the gate, she looks him in the eye and says softly:

“Come here again, if you can,” she releases his hand. “Oh, I have forgotten to tell you that this attire of a young aristocrat suits you. Goodbye.”

She turns and runs away. Charles opens the gate. He lingers there for a moment, thinking that he does not want to leave this amazing place, this quietest silence for his many-voiced show-booth. But he cannot stay here. Only young pupils in black dresses-traps live here.

“Monsieur Charles, can I ask you to do me a small favour?” the voice-cello was heard from the side. Charles turns around. Madame La Rouge looks at him and smiles mysteriously.

“Please, give this envelope to Mr. Schwartz Schtanzer. This is the report, the financial letter. He has long been waiting for it. A messenger will arrive tomorrow, and you…”

“Of course, I will comply with your request. Besides, I am going to visit my uncle,” Charles said. The lights of curiosity flashed in the eyes of the lady. “Today, we are having dinner in “Tirras”.

“The restaurant ‘Tirras’?! ” Madame La Rouge exclaimed. Charles nodded. She shook her head.

‘Mr. Schtanzer is so wasteful. But… It is not our business. Simply, the commitment to luxury has always been a mystery to me,” she smiled. “You, Monsieur Charles, may think that I am a stingy woman. But my stinginess is just the saving of time. I am sorry to waste precious minutes, seconds on trendy shops, restaurants, and night cafes. Those who lives a spiritual life, does not need anything. They can make do with a little. They need the unpainted table more than the polished one with lots of drawers, packed with unnecessary things cluttering up primarily their mind… My mind is free from clutter. Goodbye. Bow to Mr. Schtanzer.”

She turned and walked away, rustling her skirt. Charles closed the gate, passed a hand over the cold bronze, and smiled: “Madame La Rouge, you cannot be called stingy. Perhaps, Simone is right, you are an amazing actress. I noticed the shine of your eyes when I told you about a trendy restaurant. You wanted to go there instead of me. But… you found the strength to cope with the shortterm desire. You decided to play the role of an ascetic, who made a choice between a thing and an essence. You coped well with the task. I even believed that you are not the earthly, grounded creature. Bravo.”

The house of the banker Schtanzer was a castle with marble columns, wide porch, many servants, lackeys, porters in expensive liveries and white gloves.

“How can I help you?” the servant bowed.

“I have a letter to Mr. Banker. I need to deliver it personally,” Charles plays the role of a wealthy aristocrat. He looks down on the servant, who rushed with a report to the owner. A minute later, on the top of the stairs, the banker appears. He is dressed in an impeccable black suit, snow-white shirt, neckerchief, fastened with a gold pin.

“What do you want?” the voice sounds surprised. He does not recognize him.

“I have the letter from Madame La Rouge,” Charles coins the words.

“From Aspasia?!” the banker exclaims, easily runs downstairs, puts a bill in the hands of Charles, and takes the letter. “Thank you.”

Charles turns around and walks to the door. He hears as the banker is singing: “My love, my love… As-pa-si-a!”

“Yes, such a woman can charm anyone,” Charles thinks. He looks at money in his hand and smiles. “My daily income! Thank you, Madame La Rouge, that you asked me to serve you. I am ready to become your messenger to…” he raised his head, looked at the clouds, and breathed out: “To see Simone. This girl does not need anything from me except for conversations. And you…” He walked forward, whistling: “the heart of the beauty is inclined to cheat…”

Seven years flew, sped, raced rapidly, with lightning speed. Simone grew up. She got an excellent education. And he, Charles, continued to amuse the venerable audience, hoping that one day a miracle will happen, somebody will see the Prince of Denmark in the red-haired clown. Who will see? Charles got up, threw off the flowers by the toe of the clownish shoe, stepped into the show-booth, and took the letter of Simone. Her handwriting did not change. The letters became thinner and smaller. She was saving paper. She wanted to say a lot. She said even more than she wanted.

“Has the little boy Benosh decided to cover the floor with flowers?” the voice of Lele hit the back of Charles. “Ooh-la-la! In my opinion, you need my help.”

“Yes,” Charles said, having handed her a letter. Lele delved into reading and Charles began to wash makeup off the face frantically.

“Will you help me choose a suit?’ he asked, having looked at Lele through the mirror.

“Certainly,” she replied. “What do you think to do?”

“I will go to the banker’s house,” Charles replied, dropping the attire of a clown.

“What for?” Lele asked.

“You see, Lele,” having taken her by the shoulders, Charles said, “Simone turned twenty. She can no longer live in the boarding house of Madame La Rouge. She will go to the house of her guardian, the banker Schtanzer. And he…”

“He can help her with anything,” Lele frowned. “Do you want us to go with you?”

“I can handle the banker myself,” having kissed her on the cheek, Charles said.

“But I need help with a suit.” Lele began to laugh.

“You wore out the last suit. I wonder, how long will you wear the new one?”

“For the rest of my life,” he said. “But if we talk seriously, I intend to buy not one but…”

“Five suits,” Bebe got in a word. He was standing in the doorway, hesitating to enter, and was waiting for a convenient moment to wedge himself in the conversation.

“Two will be enough for now,” Charles said in a businesslike tone.

“Then we will buy you a black and a white suit,” Lele said.

“No, better buy red and white, so all will see at once that you are a real clown, an idol of a public, Benosh!” Bebe exclaimed.