Amigo Heliotropo.

Felix Marti-Ibanez.

At noon the circus wagons came to a halt. The country- side was not very impressive. The sky was lofty and a radiant blue, but the land was dry and bare except for a few stunted poplars, which stood there meekly announcing that, all things considered, this was the best that could be done. A few rocky hills, covered with lime dust, looked like buns sprinkled with sugar in the great oven of the desert. At the foot of the hills there circled a veinlet of faded green water- The huge sun was like a bell hanging from the blue, ringing out light instead of sound. And that was all. that and the houses, white with rust-coloured roofs, of the town of Santa Ana, which in the distance looked like a group of .small girls playing at Little Red Riding Hood.

The Great Floriani, owner of the circus and magician, raised his muscular arm and cried. "Halt!" and then jumped down from the box of the first wagon,

"Rest!" joyfully shouted Mama Floriani, whose two hundred pounds in weight and half a century in years seemed in no way to impair her tightrope act.

"Lunch!" exclaimed Pipo and Rico, the clowns, who by force of habit always spoke in a duet.

"Nap!" said Samson (according to his billing, the strongest man in the world), who had clandestinely de- voured a loaf of bread and a can of sardines on the road.

And Colombina, the bareback rider, always romantic, opened wide her eyes, the colour of forget-me-nots, and sighed, "A river!"

The rest of the caravan- Filipon, juggler extraordinaire;

the Rossoffs, animal trainers; Cascabel, the snake man; the twin sisters, Dora and Rita; the Condor trio, "human eagles"; the trained dogs, cats, monkeys and birds-said nothing but their thoughts ran along identical lines. The similarity in ideas of a circus troupe at lunch time after a foodless morning is astonishing.

Ten minutes later the four wagons were arranged in a semicircle; the horses-when travelling, beasts of burden, when performing, Arab mounts for Colombina-were grazing on a spare plot of gra.s.s; and the animals in their cages were having an extra ration of water to compensate for the short changing in food. Mama Floriani and the twin sisters, Dora and Rita, spread a red and white oilcloth on the ground; the Great Floriani made a fire with some dry branches; and the rest of the performers lent a hand here and there in the preparation of the customary meagre repast.

After a most unrewarding tour through Honduras, the Great Floriani Circus had arrived, weary yet hopeful, to give their first performance in El Salvador. This was, they had been told, a great country, inhabited by people made bold and brave by their constant struggle with a hostile nature. The art of the Floriani Circus would, no doubt, meet with great critical and box office success. And they needed it badly. Otherwise, in a few weeks even the monkeys would disappear, as had Antonini's trained hens.

Poor Antonini! After many years of hard labour he had worked out quite an effective act. Then came lean days for the circus. At each performance Antonini exhibited one hen less. At night he would weep tears of remorse over the smooth bones, ending up by gnawing at them, tears streaming down his cheeks. One day Antonini stepped out on the arena without hens and tried to fill in with a stupen- dous vocal imitation. But even before he had finished he stepped out again-right out of the circus.

Mama Horiani was losing weight fast, "which is good for your act," commented the Great Floriani; Colombina's horses were so famished that they could hardly lift their hoofs from the ground, much less prance smartly; the snake man was growing so alarmingly thin that he feared that one day he would tie his body into a knot which he would never be able to untie; Samson had to stuff the sleeves of his tights with burlap to compensate for his lost biceps; and the great ferocious bear "brought from the

Russian steppes," supposed to be the piece de resistance in the animal trainer's act, would lumber over to the chil- dren in the audience like a meek beggar as soon as he detected the odour of bread and sausage. But in the face of hunger they were all closely united, tightening their indi- vidual belts in collective hope.

The scanty meal was soon ready. At the height of noon the sky was all sun. The thin vein of water had turned into a shimmering ribbon of silver. The aroma of roast corn scented the air. The monkeys beatifically picked their fleas in the sun, and the horses in their la.s.situde abandoned their backs to the flies. In the blue distance, the little white town held out a happy promise, like a white dove.

The Great Floriani wound up the phonograph and soon the hushed warm air woke to the tender notes of the melody that for years had been the trade-mark and theme song of the circus: "In a Little Spanish Town." On the red and white oilcloth the ears of corn glistened like bars of baked gold- Mama Floriani artfully decorated a wooden platter with tomatoes and onions. Samson approached carrying a head of lettuce in his powerful hands as if it were a bouquet of gardenias. From the oil bottle there flowed a shimmering blond liquid. The vinegar drops were ame- thyst tears in the sun. The salad began to smell heavenly.

It was at that moment that the stranger appeared. No one saw him come. The Great Floriani was the first to notice his long shadow and then his tall, emaciated body.

He had a gaunt dark face, and the long hair that tumbled wildly around his brow was the colour of ashes and chest- nuts. But his smile was as crisp and fresh as the lettuce leaves in the salad, and his limpid blue eyes were in keeping with his smile.

"h.e.l.lo," he greeted them in a sweet liquid voice. And pointing to the corn, "It looks tender and the salad very appetizing,"

Mama Floriani buried her wooden fork deep in the salad bowl and a delicious aroma accompanied the spatter of oil and vinegar.

"Corn," she explained, "should be well roasted outside but tender inside, and nothing could be better than salad in this heat."

"Who are you?" interrupted the Great Floriani, pouring water for the coffee.

The newcomer gallantly relieved Mama Floriani of a pile of wood she had picked up.

"My name is Miguel and I come from Cojutepeque, Where shall 1 put the wood?"

"There, next to the fire," replied Cascabel, the snake man, approaching with the plates.

The stranger set down his load together with an orange-coloured pouch that he had been carrying on his shoulder.

"May I offer the group something?" he asked.

Samson burst into laughter. "A ham," he suggested mordantly, looking at the flaccid pouch and dusty sandals of the stranger.

"And a couple of bottles of red wine," shouted one of the twins who approached with tin cups for the coffee.

The stranger smiled and, without saying a word, disap- peared behind the wagons.

"Where did that hobo come from?" Pipo asked gruffly, for hunger always soured his temper.

But the next moment a great clamour from his compan- ions brought him quickly to the side of the Great Floriani, who with eyes wide with amazement was brandishing a huge ham and a jug of wine.

Mama Floriani s.n.a.t.c.hed the ham from her husband and gave it a resounding kiss.

"I won't believe it until I dig my teeth into it," she cried.

They all agreed with her, and a minute later, at a signal from the Great Floriani, the performers were devouring the ham, letting the corn get cold. The stranger, seated in their midst, pecked at the salad like a bird. Suddenly his fork, a piece of tomato on it, stopped midway between the plate and his mouth. From behind the cage, where the "wild" animals shared hunger and fleas, a resounding slap

rang out and then Colombina emerged- Not far behind her, one side of his face afire, Filipon, the juggler, tried unsuccessfully to hide the mark from the blow. Neither paid any attention to the visitor as they sat down as far apart as possible. But for the remainder of the feast the stranger could no longer eat. Colombina's face, white and pure as milk, with lips like dark red berries, fascinated him.

When the meal was finished, the Great Floriani examined his happy surfeited troupe through the smoke of his cigar. On the oilcloth there remained some purple wine stains, a few grains of corn, bread crumbs, and, like the skeleton of a prehistoric monster, the polished bone of the ham. From the cage came a mew of protest.

"Give the bones to the animals," said Samson gener- ously. And with a nostalgic sigh, "How fortunate they are to be hungry!"

While the women went to the brook to wash the dishes, the others picked up scattered utensils. The Great Floriani, beaming beatifically at his spouse, turned to the stranger.

"Thanks for your gifts, my friend. I had forgotten what ham tasted like." .

The stranger, seated with his legs crossed under him, deprecatingly raised a long pale hand with a wrist so thin that it looked like the ivory back-scratchers used by weal- thy Mandarins.

"No thanks are due. I shared your salad,"

This was far from true, for his plate lay untouched on the oilcloth and myriads of sun-spangled flies were feasting on it.

Only when she heard his velvety voice did Colombina, languid and detached throughout the entire meal, take note of the stranger's presence.

"You ate nothing," she said to him in a tone of friendly reproach. "Have an almond," she added with the air of one saving a poor hungry soul from starvation.

The stranger took the peeled almond but did not eat it His radiant eyes sprinkled the round pale face of Colom- bina with the essence of lilies.

"Where are you going?" she asked him.

"I don't know. Nowhere. Wherever you go."

"We are going to Santa Ana," Mama Floriani explained.

"Tomorrow is May first, the Tree Festival in this country, and we shall make our debut in the city."