The red-haired clown. A novel

“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.

“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 are your parents?”

“I am an orphan, who has grown up among the homeless children,” I replied. “Now I work as the red-haired clown in the circus Chapiteau.”

“You have manners of an aristocrat,” he smiled. “You made you final speech so wonderful that I wanted to get up and bow. Let me shake your hand.”

I held out my hand. He shook it with both hands and ran away, having whispered that fortune would smile upon me. It became easier for me. I wanted to make something sort of clownish. I whistled loudly, slid down the railings, and pushed the front door with my foot. A gaggle of girls flew in different directions with a deafening screech. I bowed them and walked away.

“That’s it. I am done with academies!” I decided.

“Maybe, you should try again.” Lele asked hesitantly.

“No way,” Charles cut short.

“I understand everything from the first time.”

“That’s for sure,” she smiled.“Bebe and I have never had such a smart disciple, and we will never have. Why do we need new disciples if we have Benosh?”

“Why don’t you have children?” he asked.

Lele waved away, grabbed an empty bucket and ran out of the show-booth.

“Ah, I am such a dummy. I forgot to warn you not to talk about children,” Bebe knocked his forehead. He closed the door, took a stack of yellowed photographs from the box, and handed them to Charles.

“This is Lele. She used to be a trapeze artist. The incomparable Marie Kalish was written on the posters,” the voice of Bebe became gentle, his eyes moistened. “Dancing on the wire, flying under the dome of the circus, dizzying pirouettes on the trapeze… She was shining. She was loved. She was admired. Rich gentlemen showered her with flowers and precious gifts. And she loved the stupid redhaired clown Bebe, who was coming out to the circus arena in his down-at-heel shoes and tattered clothes. She loved the clown, whom nobody called by name. No one but Marie did not know that the clown’s name was Michael.”

Bebe sat down on a stool in front of Charles and sighed.

“You have a beautiful name,” Charles smiled.

“Yes. Lele also likes it. The conversation is not about me but about her,” he began to whisper. “Once a rich gentleman appeared in the van of Lele.”

They were talking long about something, and then he opened wide the door, and shouted:

“I will not let it go. You will pay for your impudence.”

Three days later, Lele fell from the trapeze. Someone had cut the harnesses… Bebe got up and turned away to the window. His voice became dull.

“We thought she would not survive. And she…” Bebe turned and wiped away a tear. “She showed all of us up. Lele is a good woman. She is a real fighter, a hero. That’s just… she will never be a mother. We gradually got accustomed to this. Then you came along. Lele proposed to consider you our son. I agreed. Benosh, you are our son. We will not have other children. We are ready to give you everything we have. So you better not let us down, son.”

“I will not let you down, Bebe,” having hugged him, Charles said. They hid the photographs inside the box and sat down by the window.

“Tell me, Bebe, haven’t you thought that the Director of the circus cut the harnesses?” Charles asked.

“Rudolf? No. He is too cowardly, “Bebe shook his head. “Moreover, he is madly in love with Marie. He is still in love. Still madly,” Bebe began to laugh. “Did you think I do not know? I know. I know everything, everything, everything, son. Marie and I have no secrets from each other.”

“I will wash the floor,” Lele said aloud, having opened wide the door. “I am tired of your mess.”

“My dear, the mess should always be in our show-booth, otherwise, it cannot keep its sonorous circus name the Show-Booth,” Bebe said in a good-natured voice. “Leave your bucket, let’s go for a walk among sunflowers. Benosh, will you go with us?”

“No, I will stay and wash the floor. That’s why Lele dragged this heavy bucket,” Charles said. Lele kissed him on the forehead and winked: “Don’t get the drum wet.”

“And then what?” Charles asked, having looked at the bellied drum with polished chopsticks in the corner.

“And then the grenadiers will come and take you to the battle,” she said, leaving.

Then sunflowers, which were in the bucket and exuded a sweet-spicy aroma, appeared in the show-booth. Bebe was peeling seeds, praising the Director, who chose this wonderful place for the circus tent. A field of sunflowers seemed to follow them everywhere. Charles always saw sunflowers in the window of his show-booth. Always…

Lele chose two suits for Charles: light purple and light golden. She ordered to try the golden one first.

“Yes,” she nodded approvingly when Charles came out from behind the screen.

“A lovestruck young man should look like that.”

“Do you think I am madly in love with this girl?” Charles frowned.

“Not madly,” having folded her arms on her chest, she said. “But you are in love. My woman’s intuition have never let me down. Will you say I am wrong?”

“I like Simone,” Charles said. “I like her a lot but… She grew up right in front of my eyes. I was playing dolls with her. I considered her my sister. Yes, yes, yes, she is my younger sister, whom I have no right to love like a man. But…” Charles lifted his hands in dismay, “the trouble is that I cannot cope with my feelings, although I am honestly trying to get rid of them.”

“The trouble is not in this,” Lele shook her head. “Your trouble is that you are trying to destroy the best, the brightest, not thinking about that you are destroying yourself. What for?”

“That’s because I do not want to be responsible for anyone but myself,” Charles replied, having turned to the mirror.

“Well done,” Lele tapped him on the shoulder. “It is easier, free to live like you. Tell me, why do you need this suit then? Why are you going to the house of the banker? Do you want to spank the shameless girl?”

“Lele, you always ask questions that lead me up a blind alley. I am confused, I do not know what to answer,” Charles admitted.

“I prepare you for surprises,” she smiled, having flicked him on the nose. “Go, do not waste precious minutes. Remember, you are a person, worthy of respect. Even Simone said that she owed you, Charles Benosh, a lot.”

“Thank you, Marie,” having kissed her hand, Charles said. She hugged him and pushed to the door.

“I will pay for everything myself. Go.”

The porter opened the door and smiled: “Come in. You have been long awaited. Go downstairs.”

The servant, dressed in an expensive livery, bowed, passing Charles to the mirror room-hall with a gleaming parquet.

“I am glad to see you, Mr. Clown,” a demure and cold voice sounded. The banker Schwartz Schtanzer was reflected in several mirrored corridors at the same time. Charles was looking distractedly at the reflection, not knowing which one was the main.

“I am glad you came today,” the banker said, coming from behind Charles. He was confused. The banker smiled, pointed to a white armchair in gilt.

“Have a seat. I have something to tell you. I have to reveal the secret, which I had been keeping for twenty years,” he sat down in front of Charles in the same armchair-twin and clapped his hands. The servant, who emerged from the mirror, gave him a red velvet folder with a large emblem and left. The banker looked at the concentrated Charles, opened the folder, and said:

“This is the last will of George Stowasser the husband of my sister Eugenia, the mother of Simone. George was a seer. He made this will when Simone was five years old. And two years later, there was a terrible tragedy. Two trains collided. Three hundred and fifty people died.”

“The tragedy occurred on the sixth of November,” Charles said, looking at the banker. He remembered that date because the tragedy occurred on the day of his birth. Lele and Bebe decorated the show-booth with balloons, made a fire from firecrackers. Seventeen times for the seventeen years. And when the volleys died down, a tragic voice was heard from the loudspeaker: “Today…”

“You have an excellent memory,” Schwartz Schtanzer said. “Yes, it happened on the sixth of November. The parents of Simone, George and Eugenia Stowasser, were among the dead people. We had been keeping secret the reason of the absence of parents from Simone for a long time. On the eve of the tragedy, the girl was very ill. Her body was so weakened that the doctor recommended delaying the sad news. But the maid forgot to hide the portraits of George and Eugenia, placed in the mourning frame. Simone distractedly looked at me, pressed both palms to her lips, closed her eyes, and fell backwards. She came to her senses in two hours. All this time, I was in a vacuum of hopelessness…” he closed his eyes with his hand and sighed.

“But, thank God, it is over. It is in the distant past. And now we are more interested in the future. So. The will of George Stowasser, which he left fifteen years ago, shocked me. But now, it does not seem to me folly. This will is quite reasonable, as well as everything that George was doing. I bow before him, before his ability to come out any situation with honour. I am proud of this man. I try to be like him, as much as possible. George was a man of his word. His ‘yes’ was always ‘yes’. His ‘no’ meant an uncompromising refusal. He never teetered on the brink of ‘yes’ and ‘no’, never acted meanly, never lied, never bustled.”

“What is the use of titles? What is the use of ranks? Simple sound. If you take them away there will be only emptiness,” George grinned. “I will never go to the court tailor. I will not overpay him because of the word ‘court’. I would rather go outside and look for a self-taught tailor, a master by vocation, and not by pleasing the court!”

“This statement sounds like the one by Madame La Rouge,” Charles thought with a smile. The banker also smiled and said:

“George Stowasser wanted to give Simone good education. He spent a lot of time in order to find a good school. He found the boarding house of Madame La Rouge accidentally. You know, it happens in life: you get lost and end up in the destination place,” Schwartz grinned. “George found the boarding house, called me, said that he could entrust the education of his daughter only to Madame La Rouge, and then took me to an amazing place the boarding house La Rouge,” Schwartz closed his eyes, paused for a moment, and said:

“Madame Aspasia charmed me from the first minute. I was totally blown away. I was ready to throw the whole world at her feet.”

“Oh, dear Schwartz, my dear banker,” she sang with her soft voice. “I do not need your wealth. Give them to your wife…”

“Yes, Mr. Clown, I was married. I was married, much to my regret, “he sighed. “I asked Aspasia permission to be her friend, a friend of the boarding house, a philanthropist, a helper, to be anyone she would deem necessary for me to be.”

“I will assume you are a good man,” she smiled and after a pause added: “Maybe, we can be friends. When I brought Simone to the boarding house, Aspasia took her as her own daughter, surrounded her with care. George left enough money so that Simone could get a decent education… For thirteen years, which Simone spent in the boarding house, Aspasia did not accept a single gift from me. The boxes and parcels, addressed to her, came back not even unpacked. The only thing that we had with Madame La Rouge – letters,” he smiled.

“Aspasia a master of words. Two or three sentences sometimes have so much sense, which a wordy statement does not have. I know that sometimes I am too chatty. But you, Mr. Clown, should forgive me this sin. I have been waiting so long, I have been keeping the secret so long that words just flow from my mouth like water from a spring. So… George wanted Simone to be brought up in the boarding house until she turns twenty. He made a list of required sciences, which she must learn. We fulfilled all his wishes, everything he asked for. Yes, yes, he asked. You heard it right. George Stowasser never demanded. He never yelled, never ordered. He slightly changed his tone and said: “I am asking you to do this.”

He even talked like this to the servants. He scolded the guilty ones in a low voice:

“You should be ashamed. I asked you, hoping for your honesty, and you… After such lessons, people did not dare not to comply with his requests commands. I promised George to do whatever he asked me for. I am keeping it… He bowed his head and delved into reading of the will. He was reading slowly, placing emphasis on the right words. Charles imagined that George Stowasser himself was reading the will.”

“In the case of our death, our daughter Simone Stowasser becomes the direct heiress of the whole fortune. Prior to the twentieth birthday of Simone, the right to dispose of property is given to the brother of my wife Eugenia Stowasser, Schtanzer Schwartz. On the twentieth birthday, Simone must bring home the red-haired clown from the circus Chapiteau. But it is not a simple clown for entertainment but a person, who fell in love with her as a little pupil of the boarding house in a simple black dress-trap. A clown should not know that Simone is a rich heiress. He should not be older than forty years. If such a person is not found, then you, Schwartz, have been searching badly. Simone gets the right of inheritance of the fifth part of the fortune when the red-haired clown will enter the house. Three parts of the fortune I leave to Schwartz Schtanzer.