Дні мрій
The Magic Ring
Atleast,hedoubtlesssangallthesethingsandmore—hecertainlyseemedto;thoughallthatwasdistinguishablewas,“We’re-goin’-to-the-circus!”andthen,oncemore,“We’re-goin’-to-the-circus!”—thesweetrhythmicphraserepeatedagainandagain.ButindeedIcannotbequitesure,forIheardconfusedly,asinadream.Wingsoffiresprangfromtheoldmare’sshoulders.Wewhirledonourwaythroughpurpleclouds,andearthandtherattleofwheelswerefarawaybelow.
ThedreamandthedizzinesswerestillinmyheadwhenIfoundmyself,scarceconsciousofintermediatesteps,seatedactuallyinthecircusatlast,andtookinthefirstsniffofthatintoxicatingcircussmellthatwillstaybymewhilethisclayendures.Theplacewasbesetbyahumandaglitterandamist;suspensebroodedlargeo’ertheblank,mysteriousarena.Strunguptothehighestpitchofexpectation,weknewnotfromwhatquarter,inwhatdivineshape,thefirstsurprisewouldcome.
Athudofunseenhoofsfirstsetusaquiver;thenacrashofcymbals,ajangleofbells,ahoarseapplaudingroar,andCoraliewasinthemidstofus,whirlingpast’twixtearthandsky,nowerect,flushed,radiant,nowcrouchedtotheflowingmane;swungandtossedandmouldedbythemaddeningdance-musicoftheband.Themightywhipofthecountinthefrock-coatmarkedtimewithpistol-shots;hiswar-cry,whoopingclearabovethemusic,firedthebloodwithapassionforsplendiddeeds,asCoralie,laughing,exultant,crashedthroughthepaperhoops.
