Palafox by Eric Chevillard Page B

left legs, and since Francisco Luzzatto, Luciano Luzzatto, and Silvio Luzzatto all lift their right legs, and since Domenico Luzzatto and Carlo Luzzatto both lift their left legs, and since little Giaquinto Luzzatto balancing on a hand alternates his perch between the head of Domenico Luzzatto and that of Carlo Luzzatto. As they get older, they’re bound to collapse. Algernon hardly hides his boredom. So, after a final round of applause, the Luzzatto brothers throw themselves into the demolition of their pyramid, but with every conceivable safety-measure, stone by stone, in a way that later can allow for rapid reconstruction if necessary, as soon as tomorrow, in some new metropolis.
    Then darkness falls again, which restores silence (a generic expression used to designate various droning insects of the order of diptera, with their stocky shapes, their short antennae, dangerous because of the microbes carried on their feet and probosces, according to the clarification of professor Pierpont). Nothing lasts, a cymbalist waiting in the shadows crushes the unfortunate black fly. Music explodes. Drums beat each other up. Pupi Luzzatto returns with light, himself radiant and twinkling, and tips his white top-hat by way of announcement, Mesdames and Messieurs, Giuseppe Luzzatto and his performing fleas! There aren’t many performing fleas left, Olympia notes. Generally speaking, the quality of primary education isn’t much to speak of these days. Most nine year olds can barely read. Then there’s the question of recruitment, Algernon observes. I don’t have an explanation but there seems to be a stunning paucity of fleas these days, even though the blood of our fathers, which used to delight them, still flows through our veins. The spectators in the first row are the most fortunate, Maureen notes. Giuseppe Luzzatto has Charybdis and Scylla jump from his right wrist to his left wrist, then back again. It would seem that they execute a series of airborne acrobatics, barrel-rolls, loop-de-loops, between the two, a first good idea worth noting for Palafox’s performance.
    Darkness, silence, cymbals, top hat, Mesdames Messieurs, Polo the Clown! Polo the Clown runs along a tightwire, dances on the tightwire, descends, bows, steps on his shoe-lace, takes a spill. Polo the clown juggles three oranges, four oranges, five oranges, and a lemon, two lemons, and a pineapple, bows, steps on his fruit, takes a spill. Polo the Clown pulls a violin out of his ear, plays Brahms with great sensitivity, waves, steps on his violin, takes a spill. The crowd roars each time Polo falls.
    ..., Mesdames Messieurs, Perla and her wild animals! A cage has been placed in the ring. For reason x or y, Perla is in a swimsuit. The animals are released, two lions, three lionesses, a leopard, a cheetah not to be confused with the leopard, and a jaguar whose spotted coat recalls Palafox’s own. Perla produces a hoop, the eight beasts leap through, the hoop is set on fire, the eight beasts leap through, another hoop is added, the eight beasts leap through. Perla sticks to her idea, she lights the second hoop, but the eight beasts leap through. Palafox should be able to handle this trick. Then Perla sticks her head into the lion’s mouth. I could do that too, Algernon thinks.
    ..., the great, the fabulous Massimo Luzzatto! The prestidigitator flattens his opera hat with one fist, throws it to the ground, tramples it, pops it back into shape with the flick of a foot, from it withdraws eggs, doves, three white rabbits, in short, the old false bottom. Murmurs of disappointment from the peanut gallery. The fabulous Massimo next fills ten empty bottles from a single full one, so apparently identical to the others, and yet too apparently a matter of another false bottom, once again. “Mademoiselle if you would be so kind,” Massimo lays Maureen in a box, which he nails shut, which he saws in half, out from which Nino and Nina burst, while Maureen reappears in her seat,