White Horses. Joan Wolf

this circus. If you start sleeping in one of the wagons, everyone will wonder what is going on.”

      “My job is to protect the gold,” he corrected, “but I suppose you’re right.”

      “I know I am, so come along.”

      Together they went into the hotel through the back door. They found Emma in the lounge, knitting, the Maroni brothers playing cards, and Mathieu and Albert playing chess.

      “Here they are,” Emma said, looking up over her spectacles.

      “Everything all right with the horses?” Gianni Maroni asked.

      “Everything’s fine,” Gabrielle reported. “Where is everyone else?”

      “Gone to the café down the street,” Mathieu reported.

      Leo walked over to look at the chessboard. Mathieu was winning.

      “Would you care to have a glass of wine before going to bed?” Gabrielle said to Leo. “We could walk down to the café if you like.”

      Leo agreed and Gabrielle said, “Let me change into something besides this skirt and boots.” As Gabrielle left the room, he turned his attention to the chess game. “Whose turn is it?” he asked.

      “Mine,” Albert said. He picked up a piece and Leo said, “Are you sure you want to move that?”

      Albert gave him a surprised look. “Why not?”

      “Look at your bishop,” Leo recommended.

      Albert looked. “Oh,” he said, and hastily moved his bishop out of danger.

      When Gabrielle finally reappeared, Mathieu greeted her return with a disappointed “Oh, are you going to take Leo away? He is helping Albert and giving me a little bit of a challenge for a change.”

      “If I’m so terrible, then I won’t play with you at all,” Albert retorted. “It’s no fun for me to get beaten all the time.”

      Leo looked at his supposed wife. She was wearing a long dark blue wool skirt with a matching jacket. It was a very simple outfit, with little trim, hardly fashionable, yet she managed to look very smart. Her hair was bundled into a loose chignon on the nape of her delicate neck.

      “Stop quarrelling, boys,” she said to her brothers. “Ready, Leo?”

      “Ready.” He followed her to the door and out onto the street. Colette went with them.

      The café’s outdoor patio was closed up for the night, with chairs upended onto tables, but when they walked inside they were greeted with brightness and the smell of cooking oil. Most of the tables were taken, the largest one by the circus people. Gabrielle and Leo went to join them.

      “Good,” Carlotta exclaimed happily as they came up to the table. “Another woman. Come and sit by me, Gabrielle.”

      “I’m sure Gabrielle will want to sit beside her new husband, chérie,” Henri said. “Bring over those chairs, Leo, and you both can squeeze in here.”

      Leo dragged the chairs over and he and Gabrielle sat down.

      Sully asked, “I was wondering—why are we starting out so early this year, Gabrielle? It’s colder and the light doesn’t last as long. We usually don’t start for another two weeks.”

      Leo looked at the man who was the Cirque Equestre’s clown. Sully was a tall, thin man with mournful brown eyes and a receding hairline. He didn’t look at all jolly.

      “I just thought it would be a good idea to get a head start on the season,” Gabrielle said easily. “The more performances we put on, the more money we make. No?”

      Leo, who knew that they were starting early so they could move the gold as quickly as possible, shot a swift look around the table to see if Gabrielle’s reason was accepted. A few people nodded and the rest seemed indifferent. He relaxed.

      Jeanne Maheu, one of the band members, smiled at him. “Have you been to Astleys circus in London, Leo?”

      Jeanne was an exotic-looking woman, with long black hair and slanting brown eyes. She almost looked Oriental, Leo thought.

      “No, I have never had that privilege,” he said.

      “Have you ever seen any circuses at all?” she pressed.

      He shook his head. “No, madame, I’m afraid I haven’t.”

      “Jeanne,” she corrected him. “We are all on a first-name basis in this circus, aren’t we, Gabrielle?”

      “Yes,” Gabrielle replied.

      “Never seen a circus?” Jeanne’s husband, Pierre, was astonished.

      Leo did his best to look genial. “I will remedy that omission tomorrow. And I’m looking forward to it.”

      Gabrielle said, “You have to fetch our drinks from the bar, Leo. I will have a glass of burgundy.”

      Leo stood up, annoyed to have taken orders from Gabrielle in front of the others, and went off to the bar. When he came back to the table the rest of them were discussing the next day’s program.

      “I am going by the order that Gabrielle gave me, and that’s that,” Gerard said hotly.

      Luc said to Gabrielle, “I don’t think I should come directly after you. That makes too many equestrian acts in a row.”

      “What’s the matter, Luc?” teased Antonio Laurent, one of the band members. “Afraid of the competition?”

      Luc’s blue eyes glittered. “No!” he retorted.

      “Let’s go with what I have for tomorrow, Luc,” Gabrielle said matter-of-factly. “If it needs changes I’ll make them for the next day.”

      Luc did not look happy, but after a moment he nodded agreement.

      The conversation veered to what they had all been doing over the winter, and Leo leaned back and watched the various faces around the table. The atmosphere among the group was comfortable. Everyone seemed to know everyone else and there was easy laughter when Adolphe Laurent told a funny story, which was then topped by his brother, Antonio.

      They were a kind of people who were utterly foreign to Leo, but they seemed a pleasant-enough group. This might not be so bad, he thought. I’ll do what I have to do for four weeks, and then it will be over.

      “What kind of horses did you sell, Leo? Were they racehorses?”

      He brought his attention to Jeanne’s inquisitive face. “Hunters, mainly,” he said. “There’s a big market in England for reliable hunters.”

      “Oh, yes, the English and their hunting,” Gerard commented. “Pierre Robichon used to say that the English passion for hunting has destroyed their horsemanship.”

      “How is that?” Carlotta asked.

      “They have lost their seat. All they do is stand in their stirrups and gallop,” Gerard said.

      “I don’t think it’s quite as bad as that,” Leo said mildly.

      “Well that is what Pierre said.”

      “Papa meant that there is no manège training in England,” Gabrielle explained.

      “There isn’t any in France any longer, either,” Leo shot back.

      “But there was before the Revolution and there will be again after Napoléon. There is a tradition in France of classical riding. There is no such tradition in England.”

      “The Duke of Newcastle was English and he trained in the classical way,” Leo said.

      “True, but Papa said no one in England studied the Duke of Newcastle any longer. The few Englishmen who were interested in learning to ride properly came to Papa when he was the king’s Master of the Horse.”