what. How stupid. I’m off. Consuelo Do you want me to write him a little note? Mancini Angrily. A little note? Your little notes would make a horse laugh! Goodbye. He goes out toying angrily with his cane. The clowns follow him respectfully, playing a funeral march. He and Jackson laugh. The actors disappear one by one. Consuelo Laughing. Do I really write so badly? And I love so to write. Did you like my note, Alfred⁠—or did you laugh, too? Bezano Blushing. No, I did not. Come on, Consuelo. They go, and meet Zinida, entering. Consuelo passes on. Zinida Are you going back to work, Bezano? Bezano Politely. Yes. Today is a very bad day. How are your lions, Zinida? I think the weather affects them. Consuelo From the ring. Alfred! Zinida Yes. Someone is calling you. You’d better go. Alfred goes out. To Briquet. Are you finished? Briquet Right away. Jackson Then goodbye till evening. Think about your costume, He, and I shall look for some idea, too. Be here at ten tomorrow. Don’t be late, or you’ll get another slap. And I’ll work with you. He I shall not be late. He looks after Jackson who goes out. Must be a nice man. All the people about you are so nice, Papa Briquet. I suppose that good-looking bareback rider is in love with Consuelo, isn’t he? Laughs. Zinida It’s none of your business. For a newcomer you go poking your nose too far. How much does he want, Papa? Briquet Just a minute. See here He. I don’t want to make a contract with you. He Just as you please. Do you know what? Don’t let us talk about money. You are an honest fellow, Briquet; you will see what my work is worth to you, and then⁠— Briquet Pleased. Now that’s very nice of you. Zinida, the man really doesn’t know anything. Zinida Well, do as he suggests. Now we must write it down. Where’s the book? Briquet Here. To He. I don’t like to write gives book to Zinida, but we have to put down the names of the actors, you know⁠—it’s police regulations. Then if anyone kills himself, or⁠— Again comes the sound of the Tango, and calls from the ring. Zinida What is your name? He Smiling. He. I chose it, you know. Or don’t you like it? Briquet We like it all right⁠—but we have to have your real name. Have you a passport? He Confused. A passport? No, I have none. Or, rather, yes. I have something of the kind, but I had no idea the rules were strictly enforced here. What do you need papers for? Zinida and Briquet look at each other. Zinida pushes the book aside. Zinida Then we can’t take you. We cannot quarrel with the police, just on your account. Briquet She is my wife. I hadn’t told you. She’s right. You might get hurt by a horse, or hurt yourself⁠—or do something. We don’t know you, you see. I personally don’t care, but out there, it’s different, you see. For me a corpse is just a corpse⁠—and I don’t ask anything about him. It’s up to God or the Devil. But they⁠—they’re too curious. Well, I suppose it’s necessary for order. I don’t know⁠—Got a card? He Rubs his head, thinking. What shall I do? I have my card, but smiles you understand that I don’t want my name to be known. Briquet Some story, hey? He Yes, something like that. Why can’t you imagine that I have no name? Can’t I lose it as I might lose my hat? Or let someone else take it by mistake? When a stray dog comes to you, you don’t ask his name⁠—you simply give him another. Let me be that dog. Laughing. He⁠—the Dog! Zinida Why don’t you tell us your name, just the two of us. Nobody else need know it. Unless you should break your neck⁠— He Hesitates. Honestly? Zinida shrugs her shoulders. Briquet Where people are honest, their word is good. One sees you come from out there. He All right. But please, don’t be surprised. Gives Zinida his card. She looks at it, then hands it to Briquet, then both look at He. Briquet If it is true, sir, that you are really what is written here⁠— He For heaven’s sake⁠—for heaven’s sake⁠—this does not exist, but was lost long ago; it is just a check for an old hat. I pray you to forget it, as I have. I am He Who Gets Slapped⁠—nothing else. Silence. Briquet I beg your pardon, sir, but I must ask you again, I must humbly ask you⁠—are you not drunk, sir? There is something in your eye⁠—something⁠— He No, no. I am He, Who Gets Slapped. Since when do you speak to me like this, Papa Briquet? You offend me. Zinida After all, it’s his business, Briquet. She hides the card. Truly you are a strange man. Smiles. And you have already noticed that Bezano is in love with the horse-girl? And that I love my Briquet, did you notice that, too? He Also smiling. Oh, yes. You adore him. Zinida I adore him. Now go with him, Briquet, show him the ring and the stables⁠—I have something to write. He Yes, yes, please. I am so happy. At last you have taken me, haven’t you? It is true⁠—you’re not joking. The circus, the tanbark, the ring in which I shall run getting my slaps. Yes, yes, Briquet, let’s go. Until I feel the sawdust under my feet, I shall not believe it. Briquet All right then. Kisses Zinida. Come on. Zinida Just a minute⁠—He! Answer me a question. I have a man who takes care of the cages, a plain fellow whom nobody knows. He just cleans the cages you know; he walks in and out whenever he wants to, without even looking at the lions, as if he were perfectly at home. Why is