Lesson Four: Never Assume You Know Everything
Clopin was relieved when he was allowed back into Paris. He was surprised however when he was paired up with the puppeteer of their group. Chantal kept close during that time, often helping to repair the puppets during shows, while Clopin learned. He was thoroughly enjoying learning from the elderly man and was excited. Chantal even helped him make a jester like costume for his work with Maurice.
He spent most of his time, at first, bringing customers to the puppet show. However, Maurice slowly taught Clopin more and more. He taught the boy how to use the shadow puppets, and even marionettes. Hand puppets were something that Clopin had more experience with. Sometimes he saw Chantal in the crowd, but rarely.
Chantal gave him the space to learn and he savored every moment.
But his favorite moments of the day were to settle against Chantal and tell her about his day while she showed him tricks with sewing, how to use cloth to make various pieces of decoration, and he watched with fascination as she made beautiful dresses for the other women in the Court for various reasons, festivals being the most common. Some needed them for playing at fortune tellers, the city's hatred for them keeping them from making more honest ways of making money.
Bread needed to be put on the table and pretty words didn't get food.
Well, pretty words alone.
It was high summer when Chantal had to go back to work on the streets of Paris. Clopin thought he wouldn't have to worry about her; Jerome wouldn't let his wife out of his sight if he could help it, and there was also their father. It was his job to protect all of their people to the best of his ability.
However, Clopin wasn't sure what she was going to do. He knew she could read palms and sing, but within the heat of the day, Clopin wasn't sure how much they would bring in, even if the whole Court emptied into the streets. He resisted the urge to groan and slunk farther into the shade.
One good thing could be said about the Court; while it froze in the winter, it kept pleasantly cool during the summer. Above, the bells of Notre Dame began to peel and Clopin looked up, only to see Chantal. He sat up slightly and saw her listening to the bells. He looked around and Maurice waved him towards his sister. Clopin stood up and walked over, watching the way his sister was listening.
He looked up at the bell tower of Notre Dame, then back at his sister. "I used to dance to these bells," she murmured, and he looked back over at Notre Dame.
"Why?" he asked.
Chantal shrugged and looked up. "Because, I love the bells," she answered and then spun away. Clopin watched as she spun her way back over to where Jerome was waiting. She grinned and began to dance. Clopin watched in shock, as she began to twist and turn, dancing to the bells that peeled above.
"Used to?" he questioned softly and a soft laugh drew his attention. He turned and found himself looking up at Maurice.
"Chantal used to love dancing. It is unsurprising. Of course, her version of dancing hasn't changed much over the years," Maurice answered softly and gently tugged at Clopin, leading him back to the cart.
Clopin stared at Maurice, mouth open. "Close your mouth or you'll eat flies," Maurice warned and it shut with a click.
"When did she start dancing?" he asked softly.
"When she was little. Her mother taught her, but it wouldn't have made a difference if she didn't have a sense of rhythm. She elected to stay within the Court, however, doing what she enjoyed," Maurice answered, sitting in the shade his puppet cart provided.
Clopin sat down next to him, wincing when he sat down too hard. "What was that?" Clopin asked and Maurice looked at him.
"Why don't you ask Chantal?" Maurice asked and Clopin looked away.
The older man laughed. "You thought you knew everything about your sister? Ah, to be so young," Maurice stated before he pat Clopin's head. "Come, we need to earn our bread," he stated and Clopin, with a low sigh, flipped up, before he rushed off to see if he could bring in more people, drawing them away from their laborious work to enjoy a show, trying to draw in those with coin to spare or…well, Maurice was right in that they were earning their bread.
Summer was the worst time of the year. Clopin sat down in the shade and ran a hand through hair that was soaked with sweat. He pulled his hand out with a disgusted look and turned to check on Maurice.
The elder man was….
Clopin's thoughts went no farther as he slumped over in the shade, the heat getting the better of him.
When he awoke, it was back in the Court. He blinked and slowly sat up, shaking violently. "Clopin!"
He looked up in confusion, trying to figure out why Chantal was so worried. He felt dried out, however, and exhausted. He blinked in confusion as she carefully touched his face and sighed, shaking her head slightly at him. "When you feel too hot, you're supposed to tell Maurice and get back to the Court, you silly, silly boy!" she exclaimed softly and pulled him into a tight hug.
Clopin just sat there, thoroughly confused, but he hugged her back anyway. "Yes, Chantal," he answered softly.
He felt her run her fingers through his hair before she released him and he watched her stand up. She then held a bucket and had him hold it. He was about to ask why when he let out a groan and threw up into it. She sighed softly and turned. "Jerome, go tell Papa and Maurice Clopin will live," she stated.
Clopin ignored most of it, as he was busy retching. He found himself at the 'tender' mercies of their 'midwife', but mainly the Court's expert in all manner of healing, and Chantal.
He wasn't sure who was worse, though later, when he felt like he fit in his own skin once more, he was very thankful for them both and said as much to them.
"Remember that Clopin," Chantal murmured, but before Clopin could promise he would, he was out like a light.
The next morning, he would wonder why he felt like he was forgetting something.