When the service concluded, Madame Pradère and the Tambys remained to exchange greetings with Father Blandinière. The venerable curé was so deeply moved that he found difficulty in speaking. He embraced Nadine, and Cæsar, and Abel, affectionately, murmuring, in a scarcely audible voice:
"My dear children! My dear children! It is good of God to permit me to see you again, and all so happy!"
The travelers had arranged to leave for home on the following evening, but they were told that a traveling circus was to give a great performance that evening, and Cæsar begged Madame Pradère to remain over, as he was anxious to be present.
"It will remind us," he said to Nadine, "of the poor little representation that we gave here ten years ago, when we were in such hard luck."
Madame Pradère readily consented, and in the evening they all went to the circus, which they found crowded to its utmost capacity.
The performance was a very good one of its kind. There were expert acrobats, tumblers, tight-rope walkers, bare-back riders, and several highly-amusing clowns. One clown, called "Mossieu Frisch," was particularly diverting with his jokes and antics. Cæsar, looking at him closely, was suddenly impressed with the idea that he had seen him before. But when, and where? His recollection was confused. He could neither identify nor locate the funny fellow.
Presently the attendants began to place hurdles about the ring, and to bring in large hoops covered with parti-colored paper. Then Mossieu Frisch announced with a great flourish that the world-renowned equestrienne, Mademoiselle Rosalba, would perform her thrilling feats. At the same moment a superb snow-white horse, having on its back a broad pad covered with satin and spangles, galloped into the ring, followed by a pretty girl in circus costume, who leaped lightly to the pad.
The instant she appeared there rang out above the music of the band a threefold cry of
"Lydia! Lydia! Lydia!"