Free Love of Seven Dolls by Paul Gallico

fulfilled could be so empty and that the physical destruction of the object of her hatred would yield no more than the desire to weep for the downfall of evil.
    Balotte moved over to him, prepared to kick him unconscious if need be, and asked, “Want any more?”
    The glassy eyes of Capitaine Coq filled with venom, but he shook his head, mumbling something unintelligible and did not attempt to get up.
    Balotte said, “Come along then, Mouche. This fellow won’t give you any more trouble.”
    They went out then arm in arm and Mouche did not look back at the heap on the floor, for had she done so, she could not have gone. This time they did not dance—as if by mutual understanding they recognised it was not the time—but instead sat in a corner booth, eating and getting acquainted. And under the stimulus of the youth and wooing of Balotte, Mouche’s mood of sorrow evaporated. They walked home and stood for a while by the promenade looking out over the harbour with Nice’s necklace of lights curving away from them and the stars cascading over the black, frowning wall of the mountains behind the city. Balotte kissed her and, gratefully, Mouche returned his kisses.
    At the next performance of Capitaine Coq and his Family, Carrot Top appeared with a black eye and was raucously greeted by Mr. Reynardo and the rest of the cast demanding to know how it had happened, with Carrot Top insisting that he had walked into a door in the dark. They devoted the act to discussing the truth of this plus the best remedies. Madame Muscat finally arriving with a small piece of filet which Mouche solicitously bound to the optic. All through the show she felt herself unaccountably close to tears. Yet she was glad for the pressure of Balotte’s hand as she passed him and whispered, “Petite Mouche, tonight we dance.”
    This was the night too that the manager of the theatre stood at the door and counted more than two hundred patrons who had been there the week before and who had returned to see what mischief the family of Capitaine Coq were up to.
    As the second month of the engagement drew to a close and it was obvious that the puppet show was as popular as ever and a decided drawing card, the management decided to retain them, but change the rest of the bill. This meant that amongst others, the company of aerialists of which Balotte was a member, would be moving on.
    One night, therefore, a little more than a week before this was to take place, as they sat on their favourite bench on the sea promenade and watched the moon set, Balotte asked Mouche to marry him and was accepted.
    “You will see,” he had said, “as my assistant in my new act, you will make me famous, and yourself too. We will tour the world together.”
    But also he had told her that he loved her.
    Mouche responded to his sincerity and his gentleness. She had been happy during those weeks that Balotte had been courting her. Against the normality of their relationship and his simplicity, the walks they took together, the picnic lunches in the hills, the nightmare of her relationship to Capitaine Coq could be recognised and Mouche knew that an end must be made to it. She was sure that she loved Balotte, for he was handsome, kind and sympathetic to her and there was no reason why she should not.
    It had been a particularly trying week for Mouche for although, since the beating, while Coq had offered her no further violence, or tried to interfere with her dates with Balotte, he was bitter and sneering and his tongue had never been nastier as he took her to task before stage hands and performers. His movements became more and more mysterious. Sometimes she would not see him for a whole day. Then the next he seemed always at her elbow, biting, mocking, sardonic or abusive.
    It was said that he would spend long hours sitting in the puppet booth in silence, and once the night-watchman making his rounds in the theatre between the hours of midnight and eight when the charwoman came,