Hazel stood up from her chair so abruptly that it toppled over behind her. She began applauding, so happy that she was getting a story without asking for one.
“Look at me. I’m not a monster. I just want some clothes so that I can get a regular job. Oh, perhaps I’ll eat a child once in a while. That’s my nature. But only the very naughty ones. Only the ones who skip school and who I catch going down the street in the middle of the day. Or I wait outside the candy store to see which child has been a glutton and then I gobble them up. Or I toss little pebbles up at windows—and see which children are up late at night. If they are up late at night, of course, it is because they want to be eaten by me.”
They didn’t know quite how to take her story. The rush that it gave them was unlike anything else. It was better than drinking chocolat chaud all in one gulp. It was better than hanging upside down from the jungle gym at the park. And then, to their utter amazement, Rose took the top hat off, handed it to the little girl, did a backflip and deliberately landed awkwardly on her behind.
The children applauded, not quite believing their luck. The pug, looking like a little old man wearing a bathrobe, stood by unimpressed.
11
PIERROT’S REVERSAL OF FORTUNE
Despite the Mother Superior’s adamant advice, Pierrot never did a day’s work. Unless you counted keeping Irving company. Pierrot was given a huge bedroom in the mansion. All the rooms seemed too big. Pierrot felt he should carry around a megaphone so that he could talk to Irving when they were at opposite sides of a room.
You could ride a bicycle quite comfortably through the house. Pierrot knew this because he had tried it. He would hear the little bell in his room ringing, indicating that Irving wanted his company. To save time, he would get on his bicycle, propped up against the wall in the hallway, and he would head down the corridor to Irving’s room as though it were a luxurious country road. He would call out “Hello” to the servants he met along the way.
He cycled over a half dozen carpets en route to Irving’s bedroom. Each of the carpets illustrated a distinct natural environment. He crossed a field of red poppies. He crossed through a field with sheep and dragons. He crossed through a dense green jungle.
There were incredible chandeliers all throughout the house. They looked like trees after an ice storm. At one point in his life, Irving had been an aficionado of chandeliers, collecting them in all the great cities of Europe. He had since relinquished this passion, but it wasn’t like chandeliers would just go away. They still hung in every room. It was as if Pierrot were passing underneath various galaxies before arriving in the dining room.
What would Rose think, Pierrot wondered, when she saw how he was living? Would she think that he had come up in the world, that he was classy now? Would she forgive him for suggesting all those improper things?
He arrived at the dining room just as the meal was being served. He sat across the table from Irving every night. He was served the same magnificent plates as Irving. He exclaimed loudly for the first three months when the dish was set in front of him. And for six months he would stop the conversation to remark on how marvelous the food was. After that he became used to the extravagant dinners and became more attuned to the philosophical nature of the conversation, as opposed to the food on the table.
He was Irving’s constant companion and they discussed all sorts of things. Irving would ask Pierrot his thoughts on the paintings he had collected through the years, which hung on the walls. There was a still life of bloated carnations. There was one of clouds lit up from lightning. One was of a peregrine falcon wearing its typical striped pants. Hawks all dressed in an Elizabethan manner, never changing their style. There was a little girl with a blindfold around her head, wandering all alone with her arms stuck out. It was as though all the other children had been called inside but she hadn’t heard. He told Irving how he had played this game with Rose and the other orphans. Pierrot explained that this painting was the most magnificent, as it illustrated the universal and terrifying condition called childhood.
“Well put,” said Irving. “It is indeed one of the most valuable in my collection. Your experience has made you a connoisseur of fine art. Come see my portraits of dogs.”