Free Love of Seven Dolls by Paul Gallico Page A

swore that he heard the voices of the puppets coming from the booth in some kind of argument, but by the time he made his way from the balcony to the stage there seemed to be no one there, and only the empty gloves of the Reynardo and Gigi puppets were found lying on the counter of the booth.
    Capitaine Coq received the news of Mouche’s forthcoming marriage and departure from the show with surprising calmness. Perhaps he had been expecting it. They went to him together, for Mouche had not the courage to face him alone. She declared her intention of remaining with the show until the end of the month when the contract expired. Then she and Balotte would be married and she would leave.
    He had listened to her with a curious expression on his cynical countenance and then had simply shrugged and turned away, vanishing in the direction of his dressing-room which was on the other side of the stage from that occupied by Mouche. And thereafter for the remainder of the engagement she never saw him again.
    But if Coq appeared to accept Mouche’s decision to marry Balotte and leave the act with a certain amount of resignation, the seven little creatures whom Mouche met twice daily in the pool of spotlights focused on the shabby little puppet booth onstage, took the event over, discussed it and harped on it endlessly.
    Each reacted according to his or her nature to Mouche’s romance and engagement, and Mme. Muscat’s attempts to ascertain whether Mouche knew the facts of life and her advice to her for her wedding night was one of the most hilarious evenings the old theatre had ever known.
    Day after day Mouche went through some kind of catechism, with regard to her plans and her future. Where would she go, where would she live, where was she going to be married? Gigi wanted to know about her trousseau, and Dr. Duclos gave a pompous pseudo-scientific lecture on genetics and just why her children were likely to be acrobats. Mr. Reynardo tried to get the catering job for the wedding and Alifanfaron applied for the job of nurse.
    Yet, to anyone witnessing one or more of these performances, it became evident that for all of the childish interest and seeming light-hearted banter, the fact of Mouche’s approaching marriage and departure hung over them filled with the tragic implications of children about to lose the security of the presence of one who was both loved and loving.
    Through every show, there ran a vein of dread of the day, a forlornness, a helplessness and a dumb pleading that wrung Mouche’s heart, for with her departure becoming imminent, she herself did not know how she would be able to leave these little people who in the past year had become such a part of her and the only real friends, companions and playmates she had ever known.
    Often, while Mouche would be in conversation with one character, another would appear from below, retire to the end of the booth, stare, silently and longingly at her, then heave a large sigh and vanish again. The pressure upon Mouche was becoming intolerable and she did not know how she would be able to reach the final night without breaking, for Balotte could not help her. He was pleased with the publicity that had come his way and the applause that greeted his appearances now that he was the bride-groom-to-be of a romantic story that had been written up in the newspapers. He had no idea of what was happening to Mouche.
    The final performance of Capitaine Coq and his Family which took place in the Théâtre du Vaudeville on the Saturday night of December 15th, was one that Mouche would not forget as long as she lived.
    The old theatre with its red velvet drapes, gold-encrusted boxes and shimmering candelabra had been sold out for more than a week. Word had spread along the Côte d’Azur, and there were visitors from Cannes, St Tropez, Antibes and Monaco. Half of the audience present were regulars who had fallen in love over the weeks with Mouche, or the seven dolls, and who had paid premiums