I admitted that fact.
Presently I said, “I hope the people of Paradise will come to the circus when we get to Lorient.”
“Eh? Not they,” said the mayor, wagging his head. “Do you think we have any money here in Paradise? And then,” he added, cunningly, “we can all see your elephant when your company arrives. Why should we pay to see him again? War does not make millionaires out of the poor.”
I looked miserably around. It was quite true that people like these had no money to spend on strolling players. But we had to live somehow, and our animals could not exist on air, even well-salted air.
“How much will it cost to have your town-crier announce the coming of the circus?” I inquired.
“That will cost ten sous if he drums and reads the announcement from here to the château.”
I gave the mayor ten copper pennies.
“What château?” I asked.
“Dame, the château, monsieur.”
“Oh,” said I, “where the Countess lives?”