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Updated: June 8, 2025
He was then straight as an arrow and elastic as a circus-rider, the very beau-ideal of physical perfection: now he bears the marks of decay, or rather, as is said of grain just before harvest, he has a ripe appearance. If he would consult his renown he would retire from the stage, and never set foot upon it again." The fragments also contain notes on Bryant, Parton, Mrs.
But they are so vigorously drawn, and the narration is so full of power, that few readers can resist the fascination of the story, in spite of the intrusive little digressions which everywhere appear, and which, jumping at random through passages of history, religion, art, politics, literature, as a circus-rider forsakes his steed to dash through the many-colored tissue screens that are invitingly held out to him, interfere quite seriously with its progress.
Compounded with the waking dream of Otherwhere, was the memory of Steward and the love of Steward, with whom he had learned to sing the very series of notes that now were being reproduced by the circus-rider violinist.
Paul had finished his time, he quitted the service, and went to Paris with his charmer . . . . then it was a dancer . . . . then it was an actress . . . . then a circus-rider. He tried life in every form. He led the brilliant and miserable existence of the unoccupied. But it was only three or four months that he passed in Paris each year.
Come to find out, it was Little Arthur, the Boy Circus-rider. He had large sensitive violet eyes, and a wealth of clustering ringlets, and he was very, very unhappy. So the man took from his pocket a Bible that he happened to have with him, and he read from it to Little Arthur, which cheered him up right away, because up to that moment he had only heard of the Bible.
"A circus-rider!" cried Madame de Lavardens, "I should have preferred the beggar."
You haven't you haven't married a circus-rider or a settlement-worker or anything like that, have you?" "No." "Lord! what a relief! I breathe again." Jim fired off his secret without further delay. "I've been married, though." "Married? Already? Married to what? Anybody I ever heard of?" His mother was gasping in a dangerous approach to heart failure. Jim protested.
"Jean, if monsieur pleases," replied the newcomer, Jean Passepartout, a surname which has clung to me because I have a natural aptness for going out of one business into another. I believe I'm honest, monsieur, but, to be outspoken, I've had several trades. I've been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to vault like Leotard, and dance on a rope like Blondin.
The man is long, lank and grotesque; he wears a tail coat which reaches the floor, and upon his back is strapped a crazy guitar with broken strings; his false nose stands out from his face at prodigious length; his hat is a bottle, his gloves are buckskin gauntlets, and his trousers are those of a circus-rider.
That end disappeared in an ankle-deep swirl of white foam, the other rose suddenly, the whole timber, projected forward by the shock, drove headlong to the middle of the little pond. And the man, his arms folded, his knees just bent in the graceful nervous attitude of the circus-rider, stood upright like a statue of bronze. A roar approved this feat.
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