The red-haired clown. A novel. Elena Fedorova

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “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.

      “I do not want people to see me as a clown,” Charles frowned. “I must look like a young aristocrat, who decided to get married. Today, I am playing a new role.”

      “Ooh-la-la! Have our Benosh decided to marry?“thick eyebrows of Bebe soared.

      “The boy is thirty years old. It is time to think about the family,” Lele smiled.

      “I said that I play a role,” Charles raised his voice. “Are you deaf or something?”

      “Yes,” Bebe and Lele exclaimed in unison. Charles began to laugh to hide the lump in the throat. There is no use of all these sighs, moans, sentiments. There is no use of words that time has been lost. Who has lost it? Charles? No, he believes that it is never too late to step forward. However, he has been slightly mired in everyday life, in habitualness. He has become a sliver floating downstream. And he needs to go up. He needs to change everything. But… easy to say, hard to do.

      “How will I make money if I leave the circus?” Charles said, having become serious.

      “You can find any job,” Lele said. “The question is, do you want to find it?”

      “Yes, Lele, as always, you are right,” Charles sighed. “If you have a goal then you should follow it.”

      “If you went to drama school seven years ago, things could have been different,” she said, having remembered how upset Charles was after exams. He was not accepted. They said they needed distinctive actors-villains, and he looked more like a jester. He was recommended to try his luck in the circus.

      “Though, I cannot guarantee that you will be accepted,” the chief examiner said.

      “It is not easy to make people laugh. It requires talent.”

      “I was looking in his pig eyes and was barely restraining myself from shouting to all of them that I was an idol of a public, Benosh! I have been making people laugh for thirteen years without any diploma. People know and love me not only in our town but far beyond it,” Charles was measuring the show-booth with wide steps, resenting the situation.

      “Everything inside me was boiling. Everything was bubbling. The fiery lava was ready to erupt. But I remembered that I was playing the role of the aristocrat, who decided to find out everything about theatre. To find out this just out of boredom. I smiled with a clownish smile, looked down at the people sitting at the long table, and said:

      “Thank you for the audience, ladies and gentlemen. All are free to go. Goodbye. I do not dare to delay you any longer,” he turned and left, having quietly closed the door. The gray-haired man, who was sitting apart from the other examiners, caught me up on the stairs.

      “You are a very intelligent young man,” he said. “I liked you a lot. You have something elusive, something…”

      “Clownish,” I suggested.

      “No, no,” he shook his head. “You have charisma, attractiveness that are drawing people to you. You will always look better than your partner. Always. That is your trouble.”

      “Will you order me to disfigure my face?” I got angry.

      “No,” he said with a sigh. “I understand your frustration. I forgive you. You should understand, young man, I am trying to comfort you, to explain that you have not been accepted due to the fact that you are too extraordinary personality. And they, “he waved in the direction of the selection committee, “need the gray mass, the clay, from which they will sculpt same gray people like themselves. You do not fit. You are special. Who СКАЧАТЬ