From the circular _promenoir_ behind the second tier of boxes you catch glimpses of women in _chic_ toilets who nightly frequent the circuses.
Immortal are the names of the famous of French clowns—Boum-Boum, Auguste and Chocolat. For years they have made Paris roar with laughter, and the little French children kick their bare legs in glee.
Chocolat and Auguste, who appear together, are far more than ordinary clowns. They are past masters in the art of nonsense. Every effect is carefully planned and studied. Their performance is pantomime of the first order. To keep the amused attention of an audience for half an hour by a representation of Hamlet played with no costumes and no scenery, and for the most part executed wholly in pantomime, requires rare skill and subtle humor, and that rarest of qualities in comic men, the time to know when to stop.
There is something especially attractive in the coziness of these one-ring circuses of Paris. The buildings themselves are circular, like those built for permanent panoramas. From the ring, with its red velvet border, begin rows of orchestra seats, reaching to the balcony of pretty boxes, behind which is a circular promenade.
[Illustration: MADEMOISELLE LA BOUFFONNE]
The stables themselves are models of well-ordered cleanliness, and each stall that contains some beauty of the ring shines in polished brass. The stall posts are bound with fresh sheaths of straw tied with gaily colored ribbons.
An attractive feature of the Nouveau Cirque is the aquatic performance which concludes the show. The big ring mattress is suspended between two giant wheels and rolled away; the floor of the ring sinks slowly, and water rushes in until a safe diving depth is attained. Calcium lights are turned upon this improvised lake, and an aquatic burlesque follows. This naturally concludes the program, for every one taking part tumbles in as often as possible and retires dripping to his dressing-room. One of these farce comedies ends in a wedding party where the bride and groom are ferried across in the little boat. The clown who acts as ferryman is invariably upset, and the wedding party have to kick out and swim for shore, on which they climb or are hauled minus most of their clothes.
