The Countess Misbehaves. Nan Ryan

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      Eight

      Soon Lady Madeleine had regained her strength, had pushed Armand de Chevalier and her guilt to the back of her mind and was eager to get out and enjoy the many pleasures of New Orleans.

      Lord Enfield, delighted that the roses were back in her cheeks, said at dinner, “My love, I will take you anywhere you wish to go this evening.”

      “You won’t laugh if I tell you where I really want to go?”

      “I would never laugh at you, Madeleine,” was his gallant reply.

      Her emerald eyes lighted and she said, “To Le Circus de Paris! I saw handbills posted that the circus is in town and Avalina said the show is drawing huge crowds every night. I want to go. Say we can, Desmond, please.”

      Lord Enfield was indulgent. “The circus it is,” he said and smiled warmly at her.

      Moments later the handsome pair stepped down from Lord Enfield’s chauffeured carriage and onto the banquette at St. Ann’s. They crossed the street to Jackson Square where a large gathering had assembled to watch the circus.

      Sword swallowers. Fire eaters. Jugglers. Trained animals. Colorful clowns. All delighted the spectators. Madeleine applauded like everyone else, fully enjoying herself.

      Midway through the performance, the red-coated ringmaster stepped into the center ring and raised his hands for silence.

      “Mesdames et Messieurs, ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted loudly enough for all to hear, “our next performer is a man of great strength.”

      A ripple of excitement swept through the crowd and they began to chant, “Big Montro! Big Montro! Big Montro!”

      The ringmaster again signaled for silence and announced, “The moment you’ve been waiting for has arrived, my friends. It is with great pleasure that I present to you the amazing Big Montro!”

      A gigantic man stepped into the center ring amidst loud applause and whistles and admirers shouting his name. He wore nothing but a low-riding pair of loose white linen trousers. His massive chest was bare, as were his feet.

      Like everyone else, Madeleine stared in awe at the imposing giant. Knotted muscles rippled in his gargantuan arms and across his mammoth chest. He slowly turned round and round to afford everyone a good long look at him.

      Ironically, his face was round and smooth—a baby face at complete odds with his powerful body. And his dark-brown hair had a little boy’s cowlick at the crown. He was smiling shyly, as if embarrassed by all the attention.

      He went immediately into his act when a quartet of laughing, tumbling clowns joined him in the ring. The clowns circled the strong man, taunting and teasing him until he reached out and plucked one off the ground. Gripping both the clown’s feet in one hand, Montro lifted the laughing man high over his head, extending his long, muscled arm full-length.

      The crowd roared.

      In minutes Big Montro had scooped up all four clowns and held them easily on his outstretched arms, turning slowly about as the crowd screamed its approval.

      For the next half hour the strong man demonstrated his astounding strength and Madeleine applauded as enthusiastically as all the others. She was so caught up in the amazing spectacle, she never noticed that Lord Enfield was not particularly enchanted by Montro’s crowd-pleasing act.

      At breakfast the next morning, Madeleine excitedly told her Uncle Colfax and the attentive Avalina about the circus and how thrilling it had been.

      She took a sip of freshly squeezed orange juice and said, “The very best part was the strong man. Big Montro. You wouldn’t believe the things he did!” And she proceeded to tell them of the many incredible feats he had performed.

      Colfax smiled and nodded as she spoke. She was, in many ways, still quite childlike, a trait he found most engaging. But she possessed another trait, one that concerned him.

      She was a strong-willed woman and so she ignored the frown of worry that immediately crossed her uncle’s face when she announced, “I’m going down to the French Market this morning to…”

      “Oh, child, I’m afraid a visit to the market will have to wait,” Colfax interrupted. “Unfortunately, I have an important business engagement that I simply cannot break.”

      “And why should you?” she replied. “I never expected you to go with me.” She glanced at the black woman pouring another cup of coffee for Colfax. “Avalina will accompany me to the market,” she stated in tones that brooked no argument.

      Colfax’s СКАЧАТЬ