Palafox by Eric Chevillard

shrub where he first nibbled the tender young leaves, one by one, avoiding those awful fruits and the hooked hand of the vampire that gathered, to make jams, these clots of black blood. The counts of indictment are laid to rest, one upon the next. Dismissed. Dismissed. How could he have spread the plague to London in 1347? Dismissed. Nothing to keep him from his training sessions. The routine needs to be ready this summer at La Gloriette. Algernon is counting on the attendance of professors Pierpont, Zeiger and Baruglio. They will come, they promise. But not my wife, alas! Cambrelin makes clear, she is unwell, she no longer goes anywhere, do please excuse her.

7.
     
    The caravan of the Luzzatto circus ungirds before the church, it is early, the little town still sleeps. They silently unyoke the horses, no words are necessary, everyone knows what to do, movement precedes thought. Clowns and acrobats spill into the night - off to pounce on all the key positions - posters rolled up under their arms - then they cover walls and fences with the official notices, surrender, give your weapons to the authorities, eight p.m. curfew. Everyone must act fast. Every minute counts. Everything must be ready by dawn.
    Mission accomplished. When they awake, the inhabitants discover the red and white tent, already raised above the church square. All resistance is futile. They capitulate. The nearness of the two structures inspires among a few some cynical notions of a general sort. They claim to see there the symbol of the destiny of the human race, the decline of ideals, of universal history, of the emptiness and vanity of it all, of the docility of the masses, or the irresolution of hearts, etc. Those who seek a wider audience compare the big top to a birthday cake, or to some sort of miraculous mushroom that cropped up overnight. Pupi Luzzatto, abetted by a megaphone walks at the front of the procession. Behind him, in a tutu, wearing handcuffs, is Antonio the Bear. Nino the dwarf follows, sitting on the shoulders of a trumpet-playing monkey (a rare sub-species of gorilla whose most stupefying trait isn’t its talent for jazz, in fact overblown, but the silver-plated zipper visible between its shoulder blades), then Nina the dwarf in her carriage drawn by white poodles, then three elephants who hold each other by the tail so as not to lose themselves in this crowd. A concern because the gathered population on the sidewalk cheers the happy troupe. Then a squad of unicyclists, then a single girl-jockey on two different ponies each with plans of their own, then a laughable clown handing out pamphlets - the great luzzatto circus has inspired awe in all the capitals (...) , feats that will take your breath away, Perla and her wild animals, the prestidigitator Massimo (...), the Human Cannon, Giuseppe’s performing fleas (...). The great luzzatto circus will perform an amazing show tonight.
    Palafox, left without surveillance in the Buffoons’ garden, will not waste away. The grass is thick, abundant. Three meters of rope to move around his pole, some families are worse off. Algernon, Maureen and Olympia won’t be gone for long. They will be back at night, after the show, with a surprise. Roasted peanuts - the surprise, the suspense will not last, Palafox would eat them all day if he could. Maureen bought this bag for him, in front of the menagerie, from the occupant of the first cage who also takes the tickets, it was enough to toss in a few coins. Twelve smart wire-covered horse-drawn caravans, arranged in a circle, look toward each other. The two ponies trot side by side, driven by habit, but the girl-jockey has provisionally disassociated herself from the movement. Visitors press against the cages. An old man stooped or hunched, often one wonders which, whose ravaged face is adorned with a gleaming straight nose, as if this nose alone had by stroke of luck or magic or miracle escaped from accident or illness or explosion, observes the