White Horses. Joan Wolf
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Tell me about your act.” He spoke with the unconscious authority of a man who has given orders all his life.
There was a pause, then Luc said sulkily, “You’ll see it soon enough.”
“I am looking forward to it,” Leo replied. He glanced at Gabrielle to see if she had recovered herself. Her face looked composed.
As they were speaking, they had passed wagons filled with produce and another wagon selling ice. Now they came abreast of a farm wagon with a man and a child on the front seat. “Look, Papa,” the little boy called. “It’s the circus lady!”
He started to wave frantically and Gabrielle smiled and waved back. “I hope we see you tomorrow,” she called.
“Surely will,” the farmer called back. “The lad’s been talking of nothing else since he saw your poster.”
“Wonderful.” Gabrielle blew them a kiss.
“Was that necessary?” The words were out of Leo’s mouth before he had a chance to think about their wisdom.
Gabrielle gave him a surprised look. “Was what necessary?”
Stupid, Leo thought. She’s a circus performer, not a lady. She drums up business however she can.
“Nothing,” he replied. “I spoke out of turn. I imagine you get a lot of children at your performances.”
“We get people of all ages, from the very young to the very old. Luc, do you remember that woman last year who celebrated her eightieth birthday at one of our performances? It was amazing,” Gabrielle said to Leo. “Eighty years old and she was sitting on a bench watching our show! Isn’t that marvelous?”
Leo couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.
They had reached the town limits of Amiens and within a few minutes they pulled up in front of a stone building with a sign outside reading Hôtel de Champs.
“Here we are,” Gabrielle said to Leo. “It’s not fancy but it’s clean and the beds are good.”
Leo turned to Gabrielle to help her down, but all he saw of her was her back. A second later she had jumped to the ground unassisted.
She turned to look back at him. “Can you hand me my bag, Leo?” she asked.
He picked up the canvas bag that contained her clothes and handed it down to her. She continued to surprise him, he thought. Certainly she was nothing like any woman he’d ever known.
“Give me yours, too,” she said.
He shook his head. “It’s too heavy, I’ll lift it down.” He jumped to the ground himself and lifted down his leather portmanteau.
“The landlady will have supper for us,” Gabrielle told him. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”
Leo looked down into her delicately lovely face. She looked as if she existed on champagne and strawberries. “Food sounds good,” he said.
They all trooped inside the old hotel and settled around three tables in a large, shabby-looking dining room. Leo looked at the landscapes that hung on the wall. They were terrible.
A short, portly woman in a blue apron came bustling into the room. “Bon soir, Mademoiselle Robichon,” she said. “It is good to see you again.”
“Bon soir, Madame Gare,” Gabrielle responded. “It is good to be here. What do you have to feed us with tonight?”
“Lamb stew,” the landlady replied.
“Wonderful,” Gabrielle said.
“I will serve it immediately,” the woman said, and bustled out of the room.
“I thought you were Madame Rieux,” Leo said to Gabrielle. “Have you kept your own name for the circus?”
“Yes. Robichon is a well-known name in the areas we travel. Even when André was alive I was Mademoiselle Robichon in the circus.”
“Gabrielle is famous,” Albert said with pride. “Papa always said that of all the horsemen he had trained, she was the best.”
Leo raised an eyebrow. “That is quite a compliment.”
Gabrielle smiled modestly. “My father was prejudiced,” she said.
“That’s not true,” Mathieu put in. “She has my father’s touch.”
Leo remembered Gabrielle had said that also. “What do you mean by ‘touch’?” he asked curiously.
“She knows what a horse is thinking,” Mathieu said.
“Horses can’t really think,” Leo scoffed.
“Perhaps not, but they feel,” she insisted, “and they communicate what they are feeling through the reins. Unfortunately, few riders care to listen.”
Something about Gabrielle’s words and the certainty in her voice silenced Leo’s argument. He thought about her theory as he ate his lamb stew, confounded again by her unusual ways.
The conversation at the table had gone on without him, and when he turned his attention back they were talking about the brutal conscription that was going on in France.
“A soldier came to the farm over the winter,” Mathieu was saying. “Albert and I had to hide in the hayloft so he wouldn’t find us.”
“We had a scare, too,” Carlotta said. “Henri and Franz had to bribe the conscripting officer to get off.”
“Yes, it cost me a bundle,” Henri said. “The peasants don’t have the cash to hand over, though. Poor bastards. They’re pushed into the army and they don’t know the first thing about military matters.”
“Napoléon lost a huge number of men in Russia,” Leo said neutrally.
“Yes, and the rest of the army is tied up in Spain by the English,” Henri said. “It’s time Napoléon made a deal with the Allies and agreed to give back all his conquered territory and rule within the boundaries of France.”
“Do you think he would be content with that?” Leo asked curiously.
“No,” answered Emma flatly. “That man will never give up his territories. The Allies will have to beat him on the battlefield. He will never give up voluntarily.”
“Unfortunately, I think Emma is right,” Franz said.
“Do you think that France would be content for Napoléon to rule it?” Leo asked.
“If he ruled in peace, yes,” said Henri.
“After all, what’s the alternative?” Carlotta asked. “The return of the king? Did we go through all that we have gone through just to see the Bourbons back on the throne again?”
“I hope not!” Henri said.
Gabrielle spoke up. “If the king ruled with a parliament, like in England, that would be all right, Henri.”
“Perhaps,” Henri said grudgingly. “But the history of the Bourbons doesn’t suggest that they would be willing to do that.”
“I think the Revolution changed things in France forever,” Gabrielle said gravely. “No king will ever again have the power of Louis XVI.”
“Napoléon has that kind of power,” Henri pointed out.
“Napoléon is on his last legs,” Gabrielle insisted. “The English are beating him in the Iberian Peninsula, and if he is going to march against Germany again, it will be with an army of raw recruits. I think we are in the days of a dying regime.”
“I think so, too,” said Franz soberly.
Leo was careful not to contribute much in case he inadvertently gave away clues to his real identity. He looked down now at his empty plate. Madame Gare