“Are you all right?” the woman asks as he runs up to the platform. Bailey cannot quite place her accent.
“Are you here for the circus?” Bailey says, gasping for breath.
“Indeed we are,” the man says with a similar lilting accent. “Though it has departed, I trust you have noticed.”
“Closed early as well, but that is not unusual,” the woman adds.
“Do you know Poppet and Widget?” Bailey asks.
“Who?” the man asks. The woman tilts her head as though she did not catch the meaning of the question.
“They’re twins, they do a show with kittens,” Bailey explains. “They’re my friends.”
“The twins!” the woman exclaims. “And their wonderful cats! However did you come to be friends with them?”
“It’s a long story,” Bailey says.
“Then you should tell it to us while we wait,” she says with a smile. “You are off to Boston as well, yes?”
“I don’t know,” Bailey says. “I was trying to follow the circus.”
“That is precisely what we are doing,” the man says. “Though we cannot follow Le Cirque until we know where it has gone. That should take about a day.”
“I do hope it turns up somewhere manageable,” the woman says.
“How will you know where it is?” Bailey asks, in a state of mild disbelief.
“We rêveurs have our methods,” the woman says, smiling. “We have awhile yet to wait, that should be plenty of time to exchange stories.”
The man’s name is Victor, his sister is Lorena. They are on what they call an extended circus holiday, following Le Cirque des Rêves around to as many locations as they can manage. They normally do this only within Europe, but for this particular holiday they have decided to chase it around the other side of the Atlantic. They had been in Canada previously.
Bailey tells them a shortened version of how he came to be friends with Poppet and Widget, leaving out the more curious details.
As it creeps closer to dawn they are joined by another rêveur, a woman named Elizabeth who had been staying at the local inn and is headed to Boston as well now that the circus has departed. She is greeted warmly, and they appear to be old friends though Lorena says they only met her a few days ago. While they wait for the train Elizabeth takes out her knitting needles and a skein of deep red wool.
Lorena introduces Bailey to her as a scarf-less young rêveur.
“I’m not a rêveur, really,” Bailey says. He is still not entirely sure he grasps the meaning of the term.
Elizabeth looks at him over her knitting, sizing him up with narrowed eyes that remind him of his sternest teachers, though he stands much taller than she does. She leans forward in a conspiratorial manner.
“Do you adore Le Cirque des Rêves?” she asks him.
“Yes,” he says without hesitation.
“More than anything in the world?” she adds.
“Yes,” Bailey says. He cannot keep himself from smiling despite her serious tone and the nerves that are still keeping his heart from beating at a steady rate.
“Then you are a rêveur,” Elizabeth pronounces. “No matter what you wear.”
They tell him stories of the circus and of other rêveurs. How there is a society of sorts that keeps track of the movement of the circus, notifying other rêveurs so they might travel from destination to destination. Victor and Lorena have followed the circus as often as their schedules allow for years, while Elizabeth typically only makes excursions closer to New York and this trip is an extended one for her, though there is an informal club of rêveurs based in the city that holds gatherings from time to time, to keep in touch while the circus is away.
The train arrives shortly after the sun has fully risen, and on the way to Boston the stories continue, while Elizabeth knits and Lorena props her head up sleepily on her arm.
“Where are you staying in town?” Elizabeth inquires.
Bailey has not considered this, as he has been taking this endeavor one step at a time, attempting not to worry about what might happen once they reach Boston.