“Joli, now wilt thou attend to thy master, and place thy pink feet firmly upon the ring? Thou knowest it is but a little time, my Joli, and thou shalt be, once more, pecking the peas.”
He lifted the dove from the table, while it made every movement of revolt, but only foolish feathered revolt, swiftly quelled. Slowly round and round the bird revolved in the ring, staying there simply because it had not the wit or will to flutter out of it, and the hunchback swung the ring quicker and quicker so that the onlookers murmured applause.
Then it was Jou-Jou’s turn to be harnessed to a tiny charette made from a wooden box, painted in red and blue. Joli sat within while Jou-Jou pattered round drawing it, guided by the hunchback’s hand.
Soon Oliver heard an English voice among the spectators.
“Oh, look at those doves, Papa,” it said. “I want to stop and look.”
A very smartly dressed little girl pressed forward, brushing aside other people. She had an eager face, and looked discontented.
“What do you call the doves, boy?” she asked in French, in a sharp voice.
“Joli and Jou-Jou, mademoiselle.”
“Who taught them to do their tricks, boy?”
“It is I who taught them, mademoiselle.”