BOUM-BOUM.

Press, Volume LXIII, Issue 12971, 26 November 1907, Page 4

BOUM-BOUM.

Bt Jcues Clabkttb. . The child lay stretched out in his little -white bed, and vith fever enlarged eyes gazed around him, always with that strange fixedness of tb© eiok, who seem already to penetrate realms invisible to the Veil. , The anxious mother at the foot of the bed, gnawing tho ends of her fingers in order not to cry, eagerly noted every change on the poor pinched face of the little creature, and the i father, » stalwart labouring man. forced back the tears which, ecorohed his eyeballs. And thus the day dawned, clear, peaceful, a beautiful June morning piercing .the tiny sick chamber on the lUie- dee Abbesses, where little Francois, the <shild of Jacques and Madeleine Legrand, was slowly dying. He was seven years old, sturdy, sprightly and keen. And not quite three weeks ago the little fellow had bften as gay as a sparrow. But a fever had seized him, and one evening they brought him home from the public school with heavy head and hot hands. Ever since he had been confined to his bod, and sometimes in his delirium ho woiild talk of his well blacked shoes which tho mother had put on a shelf in the corner. "Poor little boote can be thrown away now; little Francois will wear them no more; little Francois will never go to school again— never again." Then the father would stifle a groan and the mother would bury her pale face in his pillow in order that little Francois would hot hear her weep. • That night the child had not been delirious, but for two days' be had troubled the doctor by a strange despondency, a complete abandon, as if at seven years the sick one had already proven the tedium of living. Hβ was sleepy, silent, sad—-letting hie little head toss about on the pillow, refusing to take anything, having no longer a smile on his poor, wan lipe, and with haggard eyes seeking, seefng one knew not what, over there, far, far off "On high, perhaps," thought Madeleine, and shuddered. ■ "When they wished him to take his medicine or a little bouillon he would refuse. Ho refused everything. '"Do you want anything, FrancoisP" "No, nothing." "You must get him out of this," the doctor said. "This stupor frightens mc. You 'are the father and mother and know best your own child—find something that -will animate this little body and recall to earth this spirit which soars in the clouds." ; And ho was gone. Find somethingP Yea. Theee 1 brave Earente doubtless did know best their ttle Francois. They knew how much it pleased the little fellow to plunder the hedges on a Sunday and to return to Paris on, hi? father's shouldexe, laden with hawthorne, or, again, in the Champs Elysees to see the Punch and Judy shows, seated inside the reserved circle among the children of the rich Jacques Legrand' had brought Francois some puwsle pictures, which he would lay out on the bed and make dance before the gaunt eyes of the little one, trying, though hie own heart -was breaking, to make him laugh. "See, it is the Pont Casaet Tire, lire, lire!" And that is « general. You remember we saw a general once in tho Boie de Boulogne? If you take yoUr medicine, I will buy you a real one with a cloth tunio and gold epaulete. Bo you want «ne, tell moP" "No," answered tho child with the dry voice which fever gives. "Do you -want a pistol, some marbles, a crose-bowP" "No," repeated tho little voice, dit>tinct and almost cruel. -'. ~•«■ •>.. And to everything thejrT»ugß«eted—■■' puppets and rjittle voice, while the parent* " looked at 1 each other in despair, answered: ■"No,- no-no 1" ' '-• "But what do you "/want, my little Francois ?" asked .the % mother. "Let us see, there is surely something you would like to have, only tell mc, tell, your mother!" And she \vould # rub her cheek along the" invalid's pillow, murmuring to him gently. ......' Then the child, with a strange accent, sitting upright' in his bed and stretching an eager hand toward something invisible, answered suddenly in a suppliant ton.©, yet ardent and imperative—■ ■.■-•"'■ ■'■■■■' . ■ -..•■,•■. -'•. "I want Boum-Bouml" Bourn-Bourn! Poor Madeleine threw a startled look at her husband. What was the little fellow saying P Was it again the frightful delirium P Bourn She did not understand what it meant, and she was afraid of the strartge words which the child now repeated with a sickly stubbornness,' as if not having dared up. to this time .to fancy, he now clung, to it with an unconquerable obstinacy. "Yes, Bourn-Bourn! Boum-Boumll want Bourn-Bourn." ' . The mother had seised, her husband's hand, like one distraught, saying: "What does this mean, JaoquesP,.H* is lost!" " , But the rugged face of tne.wrktnan wore a happy but daeed smile of a condemned man who' sees a possibility of freedom. . '' Bourn-Bourn! He well remembered the Monday afternoon of Easter week when he had taken little Francois to the circus. The child's shouts of joy still rang in his ears; his hearty laugh when the clown, a beautiful goldsparkling butterfly on the back of hu black costume, skipped through the ring, tripped up a horse trainer or remained fixed and rigid, head down and feet in the air; or threw into the air soft felt hate -which, he adroitly caught on his head, where theyjormed ono by ono a pyramid—and witH each and every trick his comical yet intelligent face lighting up, he would utter the same cry, sometimes by a rolling of the orchestra drums! "Boum-Bouml" Bourn-Bourn! And each time it came the circus would echo with bravo*, and the little fellow would laugh aloud. Bourn-Bourn! It was that BqUimßoum, the circus clown, the entertainer of the great metropolis, whom little Francois wished-to'see, wished to hear, and whom he could not have, could not see, since ho was lying there so weak in his little white oed. That evening, Jacques Legrand brought the child a jointed clown, all sewn with spangles, for which ho had paid a big price—nis wages of four days as a machinist! But he would gladly have given twenty, thirty, yes, even the price of a years labour, to bring back a smile to the .pale lips of the little invalid. ' .. . . The child looked a moment at the toy, which shone on the coverlet; then said sadly: : , "It is not Bourn-Bourn J I want to see Boum-Bouml" Ah, if Jacque* could have wrapped him in his bed clothes and carried him to the circus to show him the clown dancing under the bright lights! But lie did more. Hβ went to the circus, asked the address of tH« down, and timidly, his knees trembling with emotion, climbed the steps leading to the •apartment of the artist at Montmartro. \ ~ What he was about to do was indeed bold. But; after all, comedians go to the homes of great lords to sing and give monologues in tie drawing-room; p*rbapa the . cknrn—©h, any price would be cheerfully paid—would content to come and say good-day to Fran9m* -lUtuttexoL wUuxMiej. would *

roceiro him, Jacquce Legrand, her* at Bourn-Bourn's home. This man was no longer Bourn but Monsieur Moreno, rhos* artistic aportmont, filled with .elegant booka and engravings, formed a suitable setting for a charming man, who received Jacques in a study like that of a physician. [ Not reoognieing the clown, Jacques stared about and fumbled hie felt cat between his fingers. The ot nor waited. Then tho fnther blurted out his excuses. What ho was about to ask was indeed startling—he begged Tn advance a thousand pardons—it was most unueual —but it wea all for the sake of the little one—a tine little fellow, monsieur 1 And so bright t Always the first in echool except in arithmetic, which he didn't understand. A dreamer, you see! Yea, a dreamer. The proof I Wait a minute—to prove it. Jacques now hesitated, stammered. Then he summoned courage, and burst out: ' , , "The proof ie tliet he wishes to eeo you, he thinks only of you. you ere there before him as « lodestar which ho beholds and yearns for." When the father finished grent drops stood on his pallid forehead. He did not dare look at the clown, whose eyes remained fixed upon him. And what was Bourn-Bourn to sayP Was he goingf to dismibs hiinP Or perhaps think him an escaped lunatic and put him out?" "You live where P" Asked Bourn '•Oh, very near! Rue dea Abbesses." "Come," eaid the other. "Your boy wiehes to see Bourn-Bourn ? Very well, he shall &co Bourn-Bourn !" When the door opened to admit tho clown, Jacquee Legnand cried joyously to his eon: "Francois, bo happy, boy! See, here ie Bourn-Bourn!" And en the child's face wee a look of joy. Hβ raised himself on his mother's arm, and, turning hie head toward the two, gazed a moment at tho gentlemen in frock coat et hie father's eido whose* kind, merry faoe smiled tit him, but whom he did not recognise, when they eaid to him: "It ie Bourn-Bourn." His head dropped slowly back on the pillow and he remained motionless with fixed oyce— those large, beautiful, blue eyes which stared around eb the walls of the little room and sought always the epenglee and the butterfly of Bourn-Bourn is a lover who pursues a dream. The clown, standing very near the bed, let foil on the face of the eick child a long look of infinite sweetness. He shook hie head, looked ot the anxious father and the despairing mother, and smiling, eaid: ( "He is right, this is sot Bourn And ho departed. » "I shall not eeo him any morel I shall not see him any morel" repeated the child, whose little voice was •peaking to the angels. "Bourn-Bourn ie perhaps over there—over there where little Francois shall soon go." And suddenly—for it was Dot ft half hour since the clown had disappeared— the door reopened a* briskly as before, and lo! there appeared in his black spangled tighte, the yeUow topknot on his head, the gold butterfly on hie broaet and back, with his faoe sprinkled with flour, and the good-natured smile opening like tb« dot of • mxings bank, Bourn-Bourn, the real Bourn the Bourn-Bourn of th* oircue, tho Bourn-Bourn of the common people, the Bourn-Bourn of.little Francois! And on his little White bed, a jot of living in hie eyes, laughing, weeping, happy, saved, the child clapped hie thin little hands,, cried "Bravo 1" and said .with all tho gaiety of his eenen yeans, which epfang forth - m suddenly end bright as, a eky-rock«t: :" "Bourn-Bourn! It ia he th» time! Here is Bourn-Bourn! Vive Bourn 1 Bon'jourj, Bourn-Bourn,!" •■ • \ , - "When.the doctor, came la * actffn Iμ found seated at the child's bedside a down with wan faoe, who was con-. tinualry making the little fellow laugh, and who said tojiim, while etirring a piece of •ujpir..*t*tt» bottom of-liu medicine: : -, %i . : ? *** '. **d^ "You know, littlfe-Ffanoofe, if y0u,40 not drink, Bourn-Bourn will noter come again."- And the.child drank. it no*, good ff. ' STWy ■ooAlv,Th«ak», Bo*m-Boum!" -"Doctor," clown to the physician, "do not be jealous, but it aeeme to Tne my'grimaoei'ttr* doing aj much good as your medioin«»" ' The father and 1 mother' wept again, but this time for pure joy. And until' littl* Francois , was again able to" be about a carriage itopped every day in Front of tho Labourer's lodging in tie Rue dee Abbeaeee, and a man cot out, wrapped in an overcoat, and beneath, dressed as for the "circus, with a merry facepowderod with flour. "What do I owe you, monsieurF." Jacques Lcgrand eaid finally tot Hut' master clown when the child took hie first outing. • . " '> n-.-l Tho clown held out to the patoftUf his two gentle Herculean handed . • ' v "A handshake," lie said. ing a hearty kiss on each of cheeks, which bad again becomeVyotfri "And," he said? laughing, "the permission to place on my visiting, card' ' Bourn-Bourn, Acrobatic Doctor *«ad-Plvsician-jn-Ordinary to Little vita*- .