The Adventures of Hiram Holliday by Paul Gallico Read Free Book Online Page A

American lad y with her two daughters; M. St Cloud, a French racing man and his wife; Schmidt, a German business man travelling alone; Grognolle - ah, that funny man, two nights ago the official had been to the Cirque Antoine, and had laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks, and two Czechs. That completed the list.
    He shrugged his shoulders and looked up, as the noise in the waiting-room redoubled and the crowd clamoured for a glimpse of the great clown.
    It had begun with the arrival of the party in two cars. Some one had said: 'C'est le Grognolle! ’ and the name had run like a fire around the vast steel and concrete hall. Everyone crowded to see, the porters, and the attend ants, and the Customs officers, the passengers and the loiterers.
    'Grognolle, Grognolle!' they cried. ... 'Bravo, Grognolle ... see how modest he looks ... the little dark one with him they say is his sweetheart ... Grognolle, regardez moi. .. see, he never speaks, not even out of the circus. No one has ever heard him speak. Au revoir, Grognolle.... Give us your autograph, Grognolle ... even in real life he looks sad ... but so droll ... come back to us soon, Grognolle ... may we shake your hand, Grognolle. ... Look at us in your funny way, Grognolle ...' and then there would be a sudden wave of laughter ripple over the crowd, and the shuffling of feet on the stone floor as more and more people ran to see him.
    The great clown really was not much to look at, he was even a little shabby, in the way of those of the circus when they don their street clothes, in a too big overcoat and a muffler wound around his neck, and a drab velour hat that seemed to perch on top of his head. He wore spectacles and seemed to be a little bewildered and shy of all the attention and excitement, but in spite of his appearance of being no longer young nor of good figure, he must really be the very devil of a fellow, for look how that small, pretty, dark-haired one clings to his arm, and see, there are tears in her eyes. Who is she ? Why, that is the famous Lisette Pollarde, the bareback rider, queen of the Cirque Antoine. These people are so difficult to recognize in their street clothes, are they not ?
    So! Passengers for Rome! Passengers for Berlin! Passengers for London! Enfin, passengers please for Prague, at Portal four. Gendarmes here, hold back that crowd. They cannot all go through the gate.
    The crush surrounding the clown began to move slowly towards the door leading to the field. Gendarmes in their blue capes fought valiantly to open up a passage. Grognolle shuffled with the mob, the girl on his arm with her pretty, frank face pressed to his shoulder. Once in a while, he would stare with sad eyes at someone in the crowd, a curious, pathetic, poignant stare that seemed to contain a world of yearning and desire, and the person stared at would break into shrieks of hysterical laughter which would spread until everyone was laughing, that is, everyone but Grognolle, and the girl on his arm, who was crying.
    There were two men standing on either side of the door. The airline official knew they were detectives. They watched the passengers pass through. But they shook hands with Grognolle, and one of them, favoured with that strange, melancholy look, began to laugh, and they both clapped him on the back, and said: 'But, he is magnificent,' and permitted the girl to go through the gate with him, and many others squeezed through also, and so there was confusion and pushing, and shouting around the plane, and pilots and mecaniques from other ships came over to see the excitement. Grognolle was the last one on board.
    He stood for a moment by the steps, a queer, silent, heavy-set, ungainly figure. He put his arms around the girl and leaned down and kissed her, mounted the steps, turned for a moment and lifted his hat to the crowd, and nobody laughed then. Instead, they raised a great cheer and hand-clapping, and yelled: 'Bravo, Grognolle....'
    Then the gendarmes drove