CLAIR DE LUNE'S
Part 17's
“How about I drive him there, and we practice running?” Leonard. “If I think he can, maybe we can let him learn to dance.”
“I think so too,” said Virginia. He already
take decisions. “Juliet?”
Juliet was a little surprised. He brushed his nose, rubbed his eyes, and crawled out of the corner.
“Ya, mom?”
“Your father wants to tell you something, my dear.”
Juliet turned to him, full of question marks.
“Take your hat, my dear. I'll take you to dance school.”
“But..” said Juliet, stuttering. “Kok..”.
“Already. Let's just take a look. Hurry up, Nak.”
“Oh, thank you, Papa! Thank you, thank you, thank you,
thank you!”
“Don't thank me first. You must promise to always open your eyes and ears wide.”.
“...especially when out of a protected place,” his mother continued.
“And make use of your nose.”
“The sharp nose is the best friend of the mouse,” his mother said.
“Do not daydream, and do not let your attention be distracted by anything.”
“Even if very interesting,” between his mother.
“If you are somewhere unsafe, you should always be wary of Cats.”
“Only Cats. Nothing else.”
“You should go there directly..”.
“And come back home soon!”
“Do not linger seeing anything..”
“And don't ever explore…
In short, that afternoon Juliet was already listed as
the third Bonaventure student.
This kind of scene happened in almost the entire rat community. A similar sight, but
not the same—because every mouse and each situation is not the same.
There's a rat that came from a cobbler's workshop,
she was born in ballet shoes and felt that her future was inextricably linked to Dance. There was a mouse living in the Duke of Wellington (a public building), who was so good at entertaining his friends by dancing while the player
piano played popular songs on singing occasions together, so she aspired to become a professional dancer.
There was a grieving mouse, who all day hid in the window and stared outside, and was eager to do something new to lift his spirit. And there are cheerful mice that can't sleep at night out of excitement, and because they haven't got the right way to express themselves, hoping dance is the right decision. And there's a mouse from the tailor's house, who just wants to wear a tutu.
# # #
While Bonaventure was working in his mouse hole,
designing his first class, a carefree little wind danced in the streets.
The wind was toying with one of his posters, and finally caught him—poster that was taped in a hurry and had been so
long almost out of the wall. The wind took him on a long and agitated journey.
For a long time the poster lay in the street,
trampled on people, who otherwise would notice would consider it a meaningless piece of paper.
The wind blew it again along the way, then to another road—then stopped blowing and left it in the gutter. But the next
the next morning, the jolly wind went wild and blew the poster—with dust and dried leaves, and, wooden twigs and other small objects that can not stand its strong blow—pass through the roofs of houses and chimneys
and into a small town, a few miles away in the countryside, where the days are always as still as a lake.
And there the poster was seen by a mouse of a lifetime
her life is about being a dancer.
she was so beautiful, gentle, and sweet that she loved anyone who knew her.
He knew the journey to the city would be long and
dangerous. But he immediately packed his belongings that are not much, but,
say goodbye to his friends, and leave that very night.
Bonaventure dance school has not yet begun. But it has changed the world.
# # #
One morning—still very dark as night—Bonaventure crawled from his mouse hole (check left and right first, just in case there is any danger), crossed the Monsieur Dupoint-class wooden floor, sneak down the double door and out to the bordes. He clamped something under his arm—something about the size of a roll of paper stuck to Christmas candy.
As soon as he arrived at the bordes, he unrolled the paper and set it on the wall, just in the middle, under the announcement that read:
...THE ACADEMY...
...MONSIEUR DUPOINT...
...FOR THE...
...CHILDREN OF ARTISTS...
...YANG...
...WANNA FOLLOW...
...PROFESSION...
...THEIR PARENTS...
Then he backed up a little to see the results.
He sighed with satisfaction.
Later that morning, too, when Clair-de-Lune will be
returning to the roof basement after a visit to Brother Inchmahome's monastery, Bonaventure told him.
“Mademoiselle Clair-de-Lune, will you accompany me down to—say—extracurricular visit to your study room? Exists
something I want to show you.”
Clair-de-Lune followed him politely. When they arrived at that floor, which was so quiet and still empty that early, Bonaventure suddenly stopped at the door in a proud and embarrassed manner. A moment of Clair-de-Lune confusion. What does he want to show? Then he realized, he
he had to look as high as Bonaventure's eyes, so he looked down on the floor, and looked at the mouse staring.
Then he saw it. In small letters, in
a small poster, not up to an inch above the floor, reads:
...SCHOOL...
...BONAVENTURE SPECIAL...
...FOR THE...
...DANCER RATS...
...Description:...
...in the rat hole inside...
“Elegant nameplate, right?” bonaventure said as he looked anxiously at Clair-de-Lune's face (which was only a few inches away from his).
His expression was unique: some almost burst out so proud, some anxious
just in case the girl doesn't like it.
Clair-de-Lune nodded repeatedly.
Bonaventure's face exuded pride. His mustache stood straight and his dark eyes shone. “Only few people,” comments, “appreciate the ability of rats in making calligraphy.”
“Will you let me take you inside?” he added; and soon disappeared under the door. Clair-de-Lune immediately stood up, pushed the door a little, and pressed forward. (The door was unlocked because there were no valuables in it that could be stolen, except maybe the piano, but it would be difficult to transport downstairs.) Bonaventure has disappeared
in the rat hole. Again, Clair-de-Lune followed him, leaning over in front of him and peeking inside. What he saw made his heart melt.
Mini dance studio! His barre, which was as tall as a rat's arm, was made of toothpicks! The mirror! Dressing room
it is covered in curtains! And the pictures—little-little pictures—show the figure of Arabella Moncrief, Myra Livinstonem and Pierre Nicholas Roulette!
Clair-de-Lune let out a long sigh of joy and awe. In his entire life he had never seen anything so perfect.
Seriate...