BOUM-BOUM

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 7, 3 October 1907, Page 11

BOUM-BOUM

[Jules Cinretio, whoso real names is Arseno Arnaud, is a contemporary French' dramatist, .critic, fictionwriter, and theatrical manager, born December 3, 1840.. He first attracted tlio attention of tho public as a newspaper correspondent during tho war joiveen .Franco and Germany, though ho had already written a number of novels and had acted as a dramatic critic. • .Cinretio has produced several plays, and in 1885 he was mado director of. tho Theatro Francais, in which offico hu did inUch to attain tho high standards of tho famous semiolhtial playhouse. In 1838 ho was elected to tho Fronclr Academy. Claretio has, on the whole, bpen much more successful as a manager and critic than as a novelist. His works of fiction do "not talco remarkably, high rank. Nevertheless, he is a practised writer who may always bo road with pleasure. Tho most successful of his' productions are his short stories, somo of which.show a ■ very offectivo combination of humour and.:pathos. Perhaps tho best of them all ,is tho little taio selected for reproduction • here. Its simplicity and tenderness givo it a charm which is eT5c5 lacking in his more pretentious

The child lay strctchcd out, so pale, on ; his; little white bod, his wide-open eyes -gazing .straight beforo him, with : that' strange fixed expression of the sick who already perceive that which the living cannot see.

Tho mother, at the foot of-the bed, biting her nails so as not to cry out, marked, in an agony of griof, tho picgress of the malady on the poor pinched face of tho little one, and tho father, a sturdy labourer,' forced back-into his red eyes tfie tears that burned their lids. -

The day was breaking clear and sweet, a/beautiful, morning in June, coming into the narrow chamber or tho. Rue des Abesses, where . little i'Tancois was dying, the child'of Jacques' Legraiid and of Madeleine Legrand, his wifo.

Ho was seven years old. All white and pink, and so strong; lively as a cricket "he had been, the little ono not tliree weeks before. But he had caught a .fovor, and one evening they brought him homo from school with his head heavy and his hands very hot. And - since then ho had been there, on that bed, and he kept saying, ■ in his delirium, looking at the -uio shoes, so- carefully 1 blacked, which his mother had placed in tho corner— . '

"You can throw thorn away now, little Francois's shoes! Little Francois will not wear them! Little Francois will not wear them! Little Francois will not go to school any more — nevor, never!" ■ ' ! • Then the father cried, moaned — "Hu3h, hush,''little ono!" and, the mother, all pale, hid. her. golden head in :his pillow, so that littlo Francois might not hear her crying. That night, the child-had not been delirious; but for two days tho doctor had been'anxious about a strange depression that resembled a giving way to" death,' as if, at seven years, tho little one liad jio longer any desire to live. Ho was worn and silent mid sad; moving his thin face from side to side on the pillow, the smile gcr.e from : his pinched -lips, and his hoggard oyes searching, seeing no cue knew'what, off there, very far i,ft. "In Heaven, perhaps!" thought Madeleine, trembling. "When they tried to ,get: him to't'ak'o some tea, somo syrup, a littlo bouillon, lie refused. Ho refused everything. • ; ; , "Do you want anything, Francois?" ' • "No, I don't want anything." "He must :be got out of it," the doctor had said—"this terrible stupor !;-' You aro tile'father and mother; you know your own child. Try to-find something that will put now life into thi little body, that will call back.;to earth the spirit that is already hovering among tho clouds!" And lie went away. ' "Try!". .''Yes,;without doubt, they knew him well, , their Francois! They knew how .he loved to take a walk in the country 'on Sunday. 'afternoon, and to come back to Paris on his father's shoulders • laden : with hawthorn flowers, or'to see Punch and Ju:ly on tho - Champs Elysees with,the little rich, children. Jacques * Legrand had bought toys for Francois, a kaleidoscope,' gilded soldiers; he took them oiit and set them up on the child's bed,-lie made them dance' before tho wandering _ eyes, and, near to tears himself, tried to make the little ono laugh. • ; < "See, herb is a big fight going on —bang; Boom! And this is tho general. ' We saw a general one time, m 'the Bois de Boulogne, do you remember?, If you are a good boy and drink your tea I will buy you a real general with a cloth coat and gold epaulets. Would you like that—tell general?" "No," replied the child, in the hard voice-caused by the fever. . "Would you like a pistol, some new marbles—a bow and arrows.? " "No," repeated the little voice, shott and almost-cruel. : And to everything they said, to all the dolls and balloons they promised, tho little voice—while the parents looked at each other in despair— BUBwered—" No, no, no ! " "But isn't there something you wa.nt, baby-childi?" asked his mother. "Why, you -used to want a lot of things. Tell ine —tell your own mamma," and she:,put hencheek-down in his pillow and whispered it in .his ear, softly, like a secret. Then the childji with a strange look,-sat upright in'his bed, and' stretching an 1 eager little-hand towards some invisible object, answered, all of a sudden, his voice at'.the same timo pleading and commanding— "I want Boum-Botrm!" . Boum-Boum! Poor Madeleine cast a terrifiod look at.'her husband. What was the little oni> saying? Could it*be.the delirium, again—the droadful delirium—that haiL come back? Boum-Boum! s)he did not understand it, and she; was afraid-of. the strange words that 1 tho. child kept repeating, as if, not having.dare'd his dream before, he now'clung>to'it»with an. invincible obstinacy. Yes, Boum-Boum! Boum-Boum! Boum-Boum! I want Boum-Boum!" The mother seized her husband's, hand frantically, saying, in a low voice, liko a madwoman — _ "What can it mean, Jacques? He ls-gone! He is gono!" But tliero was a smilo on tho toilhardened features 01 the father—a smile'almost happy, and yet dazed, likci that of the condemned man who hears of tho possibility of his freedom. Boum-Boum! Ho remembered well the, morning of Easter Monday, wlicn ho had taken Francois to tho circus. Ho could still hear the child's shrioks of delight when the clown, tho beautiful clown'covered with gold spangles and with a groat resplendent butterfly on the breast of his black domino, came dancing on to the stage, went about on all-fours' with a littlo rider on his back, stood, straight and stiff, on his head waving his feet in tho air, or caught big felt caps 011 his head, ono after tho other, till they formed a pyramid, and. at each round, at each teW 'trick, like a gay refrain,- with a droll smile lighting up his face, ho

gavo tho samo cry, repeated the samo word, accompanied each time by a Vang from tho orchestra — BoumBoum!

13oum-Boum I And each timo ho said it tho whole circus rang with apphuiso aiu\ tho little ono gavo his delighted laujw. Boum-Boum! It was this iiou\i-Bouin, it was tho clown Gf the circus, it was tho ar.iusor of all that part of the town, that, little Francois wanted to see, that ho wanted to have, and that he could not have and could not sec because ha was lying thero so ill on his littla white bed.

That evening Jacques Legrand brought tho boy a jointed clown, all coverod with spangles, which ho had bought in a shop, very dear —tho pricc of four of, his days of toil! But ho would have, given twenty, thirty—he would have given tho price of a whole 'year—to bring & smile to the palo lips of his darling.

Tho child looked at tho toy a moment as it lay glittering on the white sheets; then, sadly—

"That isn't Boum-Boum I I want to see Boum-Boum! "

Ah, if Jacques could have wrapped hint up in tho bedclothes and carried him to tho circus, and showed him tho clown dancing beneath tho bright lights, and said to him, "Look!" But he did hotter, Jacques, ho v.'ont to the circus and asked the address of tho clown, and timidly, his knees shaking with emotion, ho ■mounted ono by one tho stairs that led to the artiste's apartment, at Montomartro. It was a bold tiling for him to do, Jacques. But, after all, comedians were very, willing to sing, to give recitations, at tlia houses of tho great. Perhaps the clown—oh, for anything ho liked— would consent to como and bid Francois good morning. Never mind; how was ho received there, Jacques Legrand, at Boum-Boum's house? It was no longer Boum-Boum! It was M. Morens, and the beautiful room, with'its books and pictures and objects of art, gavo just tho right setting to a charming man, who too!: Jacques into a little study, liko a physician's.. ... ' •

Jacquos looked at him, not recognising the clown, and turned and'twisted his felt cap in;his hands. Tho other waited. Then the father excused his coming. It-was unusual, what lie had coino to ask ho would never have done it—pardon, excuse —but, after all, it v;asfor the. little one, "Such a darling, monsieur! And so intelligent! Always the first in his class, except in arithmetic, which ho couldn't , understand. ,A dreamer, tho littlo one — yes, a dreamer; and the proof—listen —the proof."

Jacques hesitated 'and stammered; then, recovering his courage, ho finished in a breath— -

"Tho proof is that he wants to sco ;you, that he thinks of nothing but you, and that you are thero, beforo him, like a star that ho; wants to have, and" that ho looks at I "

When the father had finished he was very, pale, with groat drops of perspiration on .his forehead. He •did not da-re look at the clown, who was standing with his eyes fixed .in the labourer. And what would tho great Boum-Boum say ? Would ho dismiss him, would he take him for a madman, would ho show him tho door ? " Where do you live ? " asked Boum-Boum. " Oh, very near ! Rue des Abbesses I " . ' ' " Come ! " said the other. "Ho wants to see Boum-Boum, your littlo boy. Very well, he shal! see BoumBoum !" . When the door opened for the clown Jacques. Legrand cried joyously to his son —"Francois, you're in luck, rascal I Hero ho is—here' 3 Boum-Boum!"' A smile of joy;, came over the child's face. -Ho raised ''hiiiis,elf on his mother's arm and turned hi? ■ head towards the two 111011 who wore entering. For a moment ho tried to .think who tho gentleman was at his father's side in the long coat,'.-who was smiling at him, .hut whom he did not know, and y, lien they told him, " It's Boum-Boum I " he let -himself fall back • slowly,. sadly, with his forehead ' against tho pillow. Tliero 110 lay, his eyes .fixed; "hir. beautiful big blue eyes that looked beyond the Vails of tho littlo chamber and sought for the spangles and the butterfly of Boum-Boum as a lover seeks for his idol. "No," said the child, in a voice that was 110 longer t harsh, but so sad—" 110, it's not Boum-Boum." Tho clown, standing near tho little bed, looked down at the sick baby gravely, tenderly; then, saying with a glance at tho anxious father, at the heart-broken, mother "Ho ''3 right; it, isn't Boum-Boum!" 110 went out. . " I shall never see Boum-Boum any more ! I shall never . see BoumBoum any more I" repeated tho child, and already tho little voice talked to, the angels. Perhaps BoumBoum was off tiiere—off whero tho little Francois was soon going. And suddenly—it was not so. much as a' halfrhour since the clown disappeared—the door was thrown open just as beforehand there, in his black' spangled tights, a little yeibw tuft 011 his head, a golden butterfly on his breast, and another on lii's back, and a great smile spreading from ear to ear on his beautiful powdered face, was Boum-Boum, the real Boum-Boum, tho Boum-Boum of the circus, the people's Bo'uniBoum, little Francois's Boum-Boum, Boum-Bonm! <• . And 011 his littlo white bed, tho joy of life in his eyes, laughing, crying, happy, saved, tho child clapped his little thin hands, cried bravo, and said, with the gaiety of a seven-year-old, which flashes out all of a sudden liko. a lighted match— "It's Boum-Boum! It's BoumBoum this timo! Hero's Bourn-' Boum ! Hurrah for Boum-Boum ! How d' y' doj Boum-Boum'? " When tho doctor came hack thatday he.found, seated by littlo Fran■cois's pillow, a clown, with whitened face, who made the child laugh again; and who said, stirring";! lump of sugar in his cup of tea— "You know, if you'don't drink your tea, littlo Fiancois, liko a good boy, Boum-Boum woii't come back any more." ■ And the child obeyed. " Isn't that good ? " " Very good ! ~ Thank you, BoumBoum !" • . " Doctor," said tho clown to tho physician, "you iimsivt bo jealous, but I cortaiiily think that my tricks have done him as much good as your medicines !" The father and mother wept, but thin time it was with joy. And until little Francois was out of bed a carriage from Montmartro stopped every day at tho labourer's door 011 tho Ituc des Abbesses and a man got out, enveloped in a great coat, with tho collar turned up, and, underneath, dressed for tho -circus, with the spangles and tho great gold butterfly. " How much do I owe you, monsieur ?" said Jacques Legrand, at the end, to monsieur the clown when tho child sat up for-the first tima; because I must owo you something I" The clown held out to the parents the two largo hands of a gentle Herculos— " A hearty hand-shake," ho said. Then, pressing two big kisses 011 the baby's cheeks whero the roses v/oro coming back, 110 added, laughing—• "And permission to' have 011 my visiting cards, ' Boum-Boum, medical athelte arid physician-ordinary littlo /rancois !' " —Translated from tho French of Jules Clarctio for the "Scrap-Book."