"Well, mademoiselle, I have been expecting you," he said courteously.
"The gypsy Kalindra brought me here," I replied. "Did you ask her to do so?" But he did not seem to be listening--he was gazing intently at my face. He had dark eyes that sparkled. I felt myself redden. "Is there something you want?" He smiled.
"Yes," he said. "I would like it if--" he paused. "I would like it if you let go of my arm. You're cutting off the circulation."
My face flushed redder and then cooled. "Oh, I'm sorry!" I let him go. He shook his arm, getting the blood flowing again.
"Goodness, what a grip!" he exclaimed. "But I like strong women. Smart women, too. It certainly was very clever of you to have come in the middle of the crowning of the King of Fools while almost everyone's attention was diverted." The cheering was still going on for the new king, but it was fainter now as the crowd was moving away from the stage and through the streets. He pointed to the stage. "Up there, high, high on that stage, you can see everything. It is how I spotted you coming through the crowd." He leapt back onto the stage and turned and offered me his hand. "Come," he said.
I reached up. His fingers closed around my hand and he pulled me up after him. Together we stood there, watching the last of the crowd move off. The King of Fools was being carried high in the air. He guzzled down a drink and let out a satisfied belch. "Boy, that'll be a king to remember," remarked Clopin. "Wonder if anyone will beat him next year?"
He was still holding my hand in his gloved one. We stood there silently for a minute. Then I looked at him. "Were you really expecting me to come?"
"Perhaps," he said airily. "But you wanted to see me, didn't you?" Before I could answer he added, "We had better go."
He let go off my hand and scrambled back down from the stage. I followed him, but I soon saw that we were not alone. For as soon as we turned a corner, there was a cry:
"There he is!"
My jaw dropped. At least a dozen girls were there, blocking the exit, and I believe at least another dozen waited outside, craning their necks and climbing on the makeshift scaffolding to see him.
Clopin turned to me. "I beg your pardon." He looked at the girls again. "One moment, please!" He looked back at me and explained, "You might say I have a following."
"I should say so." I watched as one girl caught his arm and, unresisting, he went toward her. "Well, I guess I should be going now." But there was nowhere to go--the girls were still blocking the exit, and when I turned to see if I could perhaps retreat back onto the stage I found that women had climbed and crowded onto the platform as well. In other words, we were surrounded. It was getting hot and stuffy. I tried to move past a girl. "Excuse me..." I began. She stepped back--and bumped into a wooden support. Then next thing I saw was the support falling backwards, and the scaffolding began to collapse and canvas billowed as it started to descend on us. The girls started to hastily back out of the backstage tent. But the canvas fell before I could get out, and I clawed at the material and fought my way toward fresh air and freedom. Just before I got out, though, I felt someone grab one of my hands. I stopped clawing at the canvas and turned. Clopin stood next to me.
"You see?" he remarked cheerfully. "A tent collapsing is a fortunate event. If my backstage tent doesn't give after a show, I know I don't have enough admirers around." Then he gave me a little shove. "Go on that way. I will see you soon."
"When?" I asked.
He smiled. "I suggest that you wait backstage after one of your shows, mademoiselle." He gave me another shove and I was free from the canvas and standing outside. I waited for him to come out as well, but he did not. I did not bother to try to search the backstage ruins for him--he would appear when he wanted to. I walked away, wondering when I could pull my next show together.
To be continued...
Due to a combination of the Mulan FAQ and medical school, Claire's tale is going to be put on hold for a while. Sorry about that. Hopefully she'll continue her story in the summer 1998...
Copyright 1997 by Angela Kuo.
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