The Red Necklace Read Online Free PDF

Pierrot.”
    There was a round of applause as the curtain was pulled back and Topolain brought the Pierrot to the front of the stage.
    The magician started as always by demonstrating to the audience the working of its wooden limbs and its lack of strings.
    “Monsieur le Marquis, Count Kalliovski, my lords and ladies,” he announced with a flourish, “I have here the wonder of Paris. He can walk! He can talk! Moreover, he can look into the future, see into the depths of your hearts, and know your darkest secrets.”
    “Why would it want to do that?” interrupted the marquis. “It seems most impertinent.”
    A titter of laughter echoed around the room.
    Topolain stopped, uncertain whether he should continue or wait.
    “My dear count,” said the marquis, who in truth was irritated that it hadn’t been his own idea to bring this show here, “these are mere street entertainers. I am surprised that you have brought them here.”
    “Be patient. I can assure you that this little notion of mine is going to prove most entertaining.”
    Topolain was so put out by all the delay that he found himself tongue-tied, unable to remember the questions that he usually asked the Pierrot. To his relief, the Pierrot stood up and opened its steely glass eyes. It stretched out its wooden fingers and moved its wooden limbs. There was complete silence.
    Topolain recovered himself and began to work his audience. With care, he lifted up the Pierrot’s baggy blue top to show the carved wooden torso. He tapped it with his hand; it made a pleasingly solid sound.
    “Bravo! An artful mystery indeed,” said the marquis.
    Count Kalliovski stared fixedly at the wooden Pierrot; he too was intrigued to know how the strange doll worked.
    Topolain, his voice no longer faltering, said, “Ask the Pierrot a question. Any question will do. I promise you the answer will not disappoint.”
    Yann, from his vantage point hidden in the shadows, could see the stage and the audience clearly. Têtu, standing beside him, was working the Pierrot, though how he did it remained to Yann a profound mystery. It was their combined talents that made the show the success it was.
    “Tell me then, what kind of dog have I got?” said a lady with beauty marks and a painted fan.
    This was what Yann could do, read minds and throw his voice so that it sounded as if the Pierrot was talking.
    “A spaniel. She had puppies three days ago.”
    The lady laughed. “How charming, and how clever.”
    Now it started just as it had done in the theater earlier that evening, a ribbon of silly questions neatly tied up and answered to everyone’s satisfaction. Yann felt pleased that nothing more taxing had been asked of him. Two shows a night was hard work, especially for Têtu.
    Just then Louis de Jonquières remarked, “If the Pierrot is right about small things, things of no importance, then maybe he can inform us on the bigger questions of the day.”
    “Really, monsieur!” said the Duchesse de Lamantes. “Why do you insist on being so disagreeable? Why not save your talk for the coffeehouses of Paris instead of asking a wooden doll to take part in your idiotic debate? Let it rest. It is most inappropriate.”
    “Forgive me,” said Louis de Jonquières, “but I am curious. Tell me, Pierrot, will the present regime fall?”
    With this question the room changed. Yann saw in the slipstream of his mind an audience of headless people, blood running down their fine clothes. He heard the Pierrot say, as if from many miles away, “A thousand years of French kings are coming to an end.”
    The audience began to shift on their chairs. Topolain rushed toward the front of the stage. “The doll jests,” he cried. “Please now ask him a question he can answer.”
    Louis de Jonquières pushed back his chair and stood up.
    “Without wishing to make a dull fellow of a wooden doll, perhaps he would care to give us his candid opinion as to whether France will evolve itself into a