Part 3

Soon he had a rich and thoroughly equipped wardrobe, from a frock-coat to a bull's skin and horns, a costume which he wore to act the bull in a mock bullfight in which young dwarfs figured as matadors and teased him.

5

THE RETURN HOME

Meantime Clown was growing tired of his popularity. The fame, the applause of the friendly public, the pleasure he felt in knowing that Reine and her father were doing a fine business, the liberty he enjoyed, the honors paid him daily, all these worldly vanities flattered his pride, but neither success nor his pleasant relations with the members of the troupe could make him happy.

He was always longing for his dear mistress Bertha. Often in the night, overtaken by a horrible nightmare, he would wake with a start, not knowing where he was. Like many other artists, comic on the stage, he was silent and gloomy away from it.

After three big performances, given one after the other, without counting rehearsals, some of the most important members of the menagerie became ill, owing to the heat and their hard work. It was the animals who suffered most. For two days Sultan, whose appetite was usually hard to satisfy, had refused his food--a thing hitherto unheard-of.

One of the white bears complained of terrible colic; the llamas sneezed continually; Hercules, the giant elephant, with trunk rolled up like a snail, could hardly stand upright; a giraffe trumpeted; the hippopotamus, "Poivro," stung by mosquitoes, scratched himself till his cage shook. From the hyena-cage came forth dismal howls; two of the poor creatures, down with toothache, were rolling about in agony. Several horses, a zebra, and a rooster all felt very far from well.

The truth was the whole troupe was worn out. The manager, too, felt that a rest was absolutely necessary for all of them. Everybody agreed that the director should announce to the public, giving any reason he chose, that for the next forty-eight hours there would be no performances.

No one was allowed even to visit the menagerie. It was only after much delay and because he begged so hard that one stranger was admitted. This was a reporter from one of the important Paris newspapers, who, having heard by the many-tongued mouth of rumor of the queer tricks of Dog-Clown, was most anxious to see the dog for himself, and if possible to learn all about him, for he wanted his paper to be the first to tell the people of Paris the true story of this wonderful dog.

At the time Clown was resting on a pile of blankets; although he seemed to be asleep he was listening to the conversation, for like a policeman, he always slept with one eye open. As soon as he realized what it was all about, he got up on his hind legs and went straight to the reporter, understanding probably how much what the newspaper said might help Bertha to find him.

He was polite as he could be to this reporter and took great pains to show off before him, and--this was really a flash of genius--succeeded three different times, using as his letters the print on a rolled placard lying near him, in putting together the word "B-E-R-T-H-A," by placing his foot on the letters in the right order.

Greatly puzzled as to what it could mean the reporter wrote down on his tablet the word Clown had spelled. He could not help being surprised by this strange sign of intelligence. He bowed respectfully to this strangest of all subjects for interview, and as he left him he said gravely:

"Delighted to have met you, my dear sir."

Clown returned his bow, no less politely. He felt a trifle proud, perhaps, but he was charmed to have made himself understood by a human being.

I leave you to imagine, dear friends, what a stir was caused by this article which appeared on the front page of the paper. It was headed:

DOG-CLOWN, OR THE DOG WITH A BRAIN

It gave details of Clown's wonderful tricks--it described them as simply beyond belief--and ended by calling upon men of science to come and see for themselves this curious, this strangely gifted dog.

That day Bertha, who since the moment of Clown's disappearance had not ceased to mourn for him and to seek him everywhere, was even sadder than usual, having at last given up hope of ever seeing him again, now that all her attempts had ended in failure.

At noon her father came home to lunch as he generally did. She ran to meet him and was struck by his jovial manner. She guessed something pleasant was in the air.

"You have good news, father dear?" she said.

"Well, I think so, but don't make too sure yet. I really do think though that we have found your dog."

Bertha turned pale and nearly fainted for joy. Her father read her the article and when he came to the part where the journalist told how the dog had spelled, without a doubt, the name "Bertha," she cried:

"There's no doubt about it! It is--it is my dog. Let's go--let's go at once and get him!"

Two hours later the express train going at its fastest to Fontainebleau, bore Bertha and her father and mother.

There was a matinee that day. When Bertha and her family took places beside the ring the performance had already begun. The wild animals had been shown and the second part of the performance announced the appearance of Dog-Clown. This clever individual kept them waiting a moment or two to enhance the importance of his entry. The audience began to grow impatient, cries of "Dog-Clown, Dog-Clown!" were heard repeatedly.

It was a critical moment.

The father, the mother, the daughter sat motionless, wide-open eyes glued to the door through which he would come.

Like a ball which, vigorously hurled, bounces on the pavement, Dog-Clown in a succession of wild leaps went rapidly round the arena.

It was impossible to see his face, especially as he was all dressed up and powdered.

Having finished his first act, he went to the center of the stage, and there standing on his hind legs made his bow to the audience.

One sniff and he had recognized his owners.

It was like a flash of lightning. Next instant he had hurled off his clown's hat and leaped at them like a mad thing. He bounded over benches and fell, eyes full of tears, whimpering softly, into the arms of Bertha, who held him trembling and sobbing.

For a long time they clung to one another. This performance amazed the public; the circus people thought at first that this was just one of Clown's mad tricks--to which they were growing accustomed--but soon the truth was known when Reine, surprised and anxious, came forward and asked for an explanation.

"Mademoiselle," said Bertha's father, "I am extremely sorry to interrupt the performance, but, as you see, the dog is ours. He was stolen from us. There is no doubt at all that he is our dog, and I demand that the manager give him back to us at once."

His decided tone convinced the young girl.

"As we are honest people," she said in her turn, "and so that you may not think that we stole him, as you seem to suggest, I will tell you how, three weeks ago, he became one of us."

Thus begun, the conversation was continued in a friendly way. True, a policeman was called, but only to inform the audience, at the manager's request, of the adventures of Dog-Clown who had delighted them all.

Reine wept for the handsome poodle who would now no longer be with her on her travels, and there was weeping and wailing in the menagerie, when his comrades heard the news, for all the animals loved Clown.

This last scene was so affecting that the audience itself, moved to tears, made no complaint.

It's a sad thing but true, alas, that what brings happiness to one brings sorrow to others.

Bertha was too happy and this time too anxious, to leave Clown any longer, even in the midst of these kind circus people. She thanked them warmly for the good care they had taken of her dog, Mademoiselle Reine especially, whom she kissed very sweetly. She promised, too, to take Clown to see her as soon as they reached Neuilly, and giving her address, begged the young girl to come to visit her in Paris.

After this Bertha departed in haste, hardly giving Clown time to say good-bye to his best friends and comrades, all of whom wept at the parting.

That evening four joyful travelers took the train for Paris. During the trip, Clown, seated on the cushion between Bertha and her mother, his head against the shoulder of his dear mistress, gazed at her with moist, affectionate eyes. Licking her hands, wagging his pompom of a tail, and uttering plaintive little cries, he tried to tell her about all his past sufferings and his present happiness.

Who could describe Clown's joy when he reached home after his long journey, when he saw his own part of town, his own house, his own room, where once again he would have lovely naps and dream golden dreams?

When he caught sight of Marie, he jumped into her arms like a child. Marie burst into tears and could not utter a word of reproach. He leaped all over the footman, and did not forget even the cook. Then, smiling to himself, he went off to see what they were to have for dinner--and seemed well satisfied.

In a word, he took up once more his happy family life, full of delightful things: pleasant strolls with Marie, delightful wanderings with Bertha, caresses lovingly given and returned.

From this memorable day, Clown, who had learned his lesson, and grown wise by experience, was the first to bring his leash when it was time to go out.

He would carry it triumphantly in his mouth as if to say, "Don't let's forget it!" For nothing in the world could you get him to venture alone upon the streets.

At the present time Clown is perfectly happy. His adventures are all in the past.

Now that he no longer has anything to worry him he is getting fatter and lazier, but he is always ready for a frolic with his beloved mistress, Bertha. I am sure that very few people who meet the contented dog and his devoted mistress have any idea that this is the famous Clown.

As to the moral of this story, you have understood it, I am sure; but don't forget it, dear little readers. If you don't take the wise advice of your parents you are likely to suffer. Just because he didn't obey his little mistress, Clown, in spite of all his intelligence and wit, was very nearly lost forever.

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