THE ADVENTURES OF NONO
by JEAN GRAVE
[continued from Chapter IX]
X
THE
ENCOUNTER
The
group was returning very slowly, without hurrying, when Nono saw a splendid death’s-head
hawkmoth. He immediately decided to catch it. But when he tried to seize it, the
insect, with an unexpected flap of its wings, escaped from the net and came
fluttering, as if to taunt him, very close to the hunter who, carried away by
the heat of the chase, soon found himself led far from his friends.
Finally,
stopping near a large oak, the moth seemed within range, and Nono thought the
moment favorable to capture it. He calculated the distance that separated him
from the insect, grasped the handle of the net and swung it... right on the
nose of a stout gentleman, pot-bellied, finely dressed, with coarse features
and a flat nose; an enormous gold chain dangled over his paunch. Diamonds
adorned his shirt-front, a big carbuncle shone at the knot of his cravat; his
fingers were covered with rings. He leaned on a golden walking stick.
“Well,
sonny, pay attention. A little more and you would have flattened my nose.” —
Nono thought to himself that it would have been hard to make it flatter. — “You
didn’t intend, did you, to take me in your net? It seems a little bit small for
that.
And pleased with what he took to be a fine joke,
the fat man laughed in loud
bursts. But his laugh sounded false, and his face was far from inspiring sympathy, when you examined it up close.
But Nono
was a little bit young to be a physiognomist. And if he was frightened, it was
at the sudden appearance of the fat man, and at finding himself far from his
comrades, recalling the recommendations of Solidaria.
However, as he heard, at intervals, the songs and the bursts of laughter of the little troop, he realized that they could not be very
far off, which reassured him a
bit.
However,
it did not explain very well how he had found a fat man under his net when it
was a moth that he had chased.
“Pardon
me, sir; I didn’t see you. I was pursuing a moth that I wanted to catch when I
struck you with my net. Did I hurt you?
“No, it
is nothing. You caught me on the tip of the nose,” said the fat man, rubbing it.
“But how is it that you are all alone, running after moths?”
“Oh! I am not alone, Nono
quickly replied, still dominated by a
vague fear. My friends are
playing in the woods ... You hear them!” And
he listened.
“Ah! And
you came to walk here, with your schoolmasters?
“We have
no masters,” Nono said proudly. “They
are friends! They work with us, play with us, teach us what
they know, but do not force us to do what we
do not know or do not want to do.”
“Oh! Little
man, don’t get all up in arms,” laughed the
fat man. "That's what I meant. I can see that you're from Autonomie. And does
it please you to never be with anyone but children of your own age, and to
always see and to the same things?
“We do
not always do the same thing. We change our work and play as we wish, whenever
we please.
“Yes,
but that doesn’t prevent it from always being the same existence. Yu always see
the same country, and the same people. Wouldn’t you like to travel, to see new
countries?
“In the country where I live,” continued
the fat man, “we travel all the
time. We go to the sea,
and we go to the mountains. So, me, I
have nothing to concern myself with but going for a stroll. It is enough to
have a magic wand like I have — and he indicated his walked stick — in order to
have all that one desires.
“So,
here you are sweating from running around after an insect that you want, but
you couldn’t catch. Me, without troubling myself, I will give you this silkmoth
fluttery there, above that bush you see close to you.”
And,
raising his wand in the direction that he indicated, he made a sign, and the silkmoth
found itself in Nono’s hand.
The
child took the insect fearfully and examined it attentively. It was a female of
the order Lepidoptera. It
seemed to him that the insect regarded him with a pleading
look, while its legs shook with a convulsive trembling.
“Hey! Here
is a pin to stick it in your collection,” said the man, holding out a thin,
gold pin to Nono.”
But Nono
opened his fingers, letting the insect escape. It flew away, whirring.
“You
were wrong to do that,” said the fat man. “That was a very rare species. You could
have got a good price for it, if you did not want if for your collection. Are
you hungry? Thirsty? Sit, eat and drink. The table is set.”
He again extended
his wand in the direction of the big oak. Nono, gaping,
saw some tables set themselves, bearing a variety of dishes filled with meats, sauces,
and pastries. Flasks containing drinks of all
colors chilled in silver buckets full of ice.
“No, I
am not hungry,” said Nono. The fat man began to interest him and seemed to him
less ugly.
“You
have a very nice air about you, and I like you,” said the fat man. “I would
love to have a son like you. Will you follow me? I will show you lots of nice things you
do not know about.”
“Thank you, but I do not know you. I do not want to leave
my friends from Autonomie. They would be too worried if they
did not see me return.”
“You see that I can do anything I
want. I have a way to prevent
that.”
“No,” replied
the child, his apprehensions returning. “I want to return to Solidaria.
“Do you
think I’m lying? That I am not capable of showing you what I promised? Here! My
pig-headed little friend, take these opera glasses. Look at the spectacles you
could join in every day!”
Saying
this, he propped on his belly a case that hung by a strap at his side and took
out a magnificent pair of binoculars that he handed to the child.
Nono
raised it to his eyes. He first distinguished a large room where a multitude of
children were assembled. All sorts of sweets were passed out to them.
Then,
they put on magnificent clothes; they climbed into fine carriages pulled by pretty
white horses, driven by little coachmen wearing powdered wigs, high riding
boots, and clothes tasseled at all the seems.
Then, they
were sent in sturdier carriages, across the plain and to the sea; then into the
mountains, which they climbed on mules. And then parties, everywhere. He could
see that they were only concerned with enjoying themselves.
However,
Nono noticed that their faces, at times, had an air of strain and boredom, like
he had not known since he came to Autonomie.
The
scenes changed again. He
saw again a large semicircular room,
lined with large gold-fringed draperies. From the floor to the ceiling, that room was
divided into compartments also lined with draperies and fringes of gold. In
those compartments, gentlemen in shirts of blinding whiteness and black jackets,
women in low-cut dresses covered with diamonds, children lavishly dressed.
At the
back of the room, on the stage, another group of people, still more lavishly
dressed, appeared to him, moved, danced to the sound of a music that was
sometimes sweet and mysterious, sometimes brisk and lively.
Nono, dazzled
by all that movement, by the countless lights that lit the room took the
binoculars from his eyes, amazed.
“Well?” questioned
the tempter, insidiously.
“Oh! That
is beautiful!” And he asked himself if he would not follow the man.
Then, wanting to take one last look, he put the binoculars to his eyes again. But
having inadvertently turned the glasses around, he saw a horrible spectacle.
He
barely had the time to distinguish some filthy, labyrinthine streets, houses
like barracks, squalid dwellings, inhabited by a miserable, ragged population, with
faces marked with suffering, occupied with tasks that he had
no time to distinguish, but which seemed
repugnant.
He only had time for
a glimpse. The binoculars were violently torn from his hands by the fat
man, who said to him, in a harsh voice:
“Do not look that way. It
is not your affair, and it is not worth the trouble anyway.”
Nono, taken aback, stared at the man with a frightened air!
But he
had recovered his smooth demeanor, and it was in an oily voice that he
continued:
“I have
frightened you; but it is because I have been frightened myself. That item is
one of a kind. I would not trade those opera glasses for anything, and I saw
that you were about to drop them.
Nono wondered if he had actually seen, or if it was not an illusion. He calmed
down a little, but his first
fears had returned. He recoiled from the man,
and in an altered voice, he cried, “Hans! Mab!”
“What a
fool you are,” said the man, trying to take his hand. “Decide, and I’ll take
you. But hurry, because I’m in a hurry!”
They
heard the voices of Hans, Dick and Mab, who called to their absent comrade.
And Nono
stepped by further from the man, calling his friends.
“Where
are you hiding?” said the voice of Hans, who, this time, seemed very close.
“Over here, over here,” called
Nono.
He saw
Hans appear from a thicket, then Dick, and then Mab from a nearby path.
“How you
scared us,” they said, all together. “We thought you were lost. We have
searched for you for an hour.” And they all hugged his neck.
The fat
man had disappeared.
Nono was
going to tell his friends about his adventure; but as at one time he had been
close to letting himself be won over and following the man, he didn’t dare
admit to his friend that he had been at the point of forgetting and abandoning
them; a false shame restrained him. He
resolved to conceal his adventure,
telling only what led to the pursuit of the moth that he had lost. Explaining
his emotion by the fear he had felt at finding himself alone, isolated, fearing
he wouldn’t be able to rejoin his friends.
“Ah! There
was no danger that we would forget you,” said Hans; “we would have spent the
night searching for you instead.”
And as
the other children called, they went towards the bulk of the column, responding
to their calls.
Hans’
last words were a cruel reproach for Nono who felt some ingratitude toward them,
blaming himself for having wanted to leave them for the first unknown to come
along.
He was
more and more convinced that he should conceal his adventure, maintaining his
silence in that regard.
In this
he was still more wrong, for Solidaria would have warned him that the fat man
was none other than Monnaïus, the eternal enemy of Solidaria and her children: that
would have put him on his guard, and he would have avoided greater misfortunes
thereafter. But it is rare that a first mistake does not lead to others, and
that a first lack of trust is not followed by one or even several lies.
[to be continued in Chapter XI]
[Working translation by Shawn P. Wilbur]
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