"At first I thought that I was going to slip; my head was going 'round, my ears were humming; but with the first applause I forgot everything, and Pérez and I performed the most difficult feats with most admirable precision. The public applauded wildly. What days those were!"
And the old gymnast smiled; then he made a bitter grimace; his eyes grew moist; he blinked so as to dry a tear that at last escaped and coursed down his earth-coloured cheek.
"I'm an old fool; but I can't help it," Don Alonso murmured in explanation of his weakness.
"And did you stay in New Orleans?" asked Roberto.
"Pérez and I signed a contract there," replied Don Alonso, "with a big circus syndicate of New York that had about twenty or thirty companies touring all America. All of us gymnasts, ballet-dancers, ecuyéres, acrobats, pantominists, clowns, contortionists, and strong men travelled in a special train…. The majority were Italians and Frenchmen."
"Were there good-looking women, eh?" asked Manuel.
"Uf! … Like this …" replied Don Alonso, bringing his fingers all together. "Women with such muscles! … There was no other life anything like it," he added, reverting to his melancholy theme. "You had all the money and women and clothes you wanted…. And above all, glory, applause…."
And the gymnast went into a trance of enthusiasm, staring rigidly at a fixed point.
Roberto and Manuel gazed at him in curiosity.
"And Rosita,—didn't you ever see her again?" asked Roberto.