Strange. Part three.

"You're looking at the watch. I wonder! The great Adelard himself is late," someone added, making a disgruntled face.

"There he is!" Esma shouted theatrically, emotionally, making a fluid motion with her hand.

On his feet with confidence and ease, Adelard was all alone. Today he was wearing a dark red jacket and black trousers combined with red leather shoes.

No one dared to say anything first, no one wanted to break this silence, and this romantic evening under a pink sky.

Stepping forward slowly, Adelard's shoes, which had traveled the world to be the protectors of his feet, beat a rhythm on the stone path. And so when he stopped in front of Esma, he said, "Good evening." With those words, he took her hand and brought it lightly to his lips.

"Finally. Here you are," Esma said, not hiding the desire in her eyes.

Adelard, smiling heartily, said sincerely, "I have heard of you before. And I can't wait to hear you sing. As a child, I always loved to hear my mother sing. And even now, every time I afraid of something, I remember her voice, all those words that turned into an affectionate flow of song. It makes me feel good. You have no idea how important music is in my life."

Every time Adelard spoke, he turned into a child who could not hide his emotions. And with this quality, he made everyone fall in love with him. After all, everyone loves sincerity and honesty. Although, no one follows the example of such sincerity.

"And how we have never seen each other before!" Esma exclaimed, glancing angrily at all the people standing around her. A young man in a green shirt and white trousers, with his hair too long and his emotions distorted with sadness, frustration, approached Adelard with his hand outstretched. "It's nice to meet you. You can call me Skye. I am a close friend of Madame Esma, and I am also a very good actor who will be entertaining you on stage. I hope you like theater?!"

"I like your hair. It's very beautiful," Adelard thought aloud, but realizing what he shouldn't have said, he blushed and added, "Nice to meet you too. I'm Adelard."

"Yes. I know all about you. And thank you for the compliment. I like your face, too. You're very beautiful. Do you know that? You could be a good actor. Though it's not too late to be one."

"Monsieur Mars, my name is Henry. And I hope for a strong friendship," another man, who was no different from the others, intervened in their conversation.

"You're allowed to talk to him, but I'm not?" asked the young boy, who seemed to be only eighteen years old, almost with anger in his voice. His golden hair immediately caught Adelard's attention. "Monsieur Adelard, it is an honor to meet you. You are my hero and role model. When I am old enough, I will surely become a great man," the young man continued, smiling radiantly. "I apologize for my behavior. My hands are shaking. My name is Albert. I am the son of this man." And by this man, he meant an elderly man who was holding a wineglass with one hand and a tall woman in a pink dress with the other.

"Well, let's go inside this beautiful building," Esma said, looking around.

"Madame Ruby Rose, shouldn't we wait for the others?" someone's question was heard.

"The whole town will be here soon. This is a historical event, after all," Adelard said, looking at everyone politely, thereby making them forget who they were.

"You're so sweet," Esma said, imagining in her head all the things she would do if she had the chance to be alone with him.

The door opened and the game began.

After exactly one hour, the whole great hall of the theater was filled with people. The shiny new floor looked like a real mirror and the high ceiling with drawings of angels and flowers simply fascinated anyone's imagination. A new world settled here, which was full of wonders. For even the air between the ceiling and the floor seemed different. Every particle of air connected with every pattern that lay perfectly on the walls, creating the illusion of a completely different reality. The dark green tones along with the red color made an ordinary theater look like a palace, with Madame Esma Ruby Rose herself as the queen. And when the orchestra played in the very corner of the hall, this queen proudly raised her head and with it her hand. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am very glad you are all here. After all, I didn't expect the whole town to be here at all. You have surprised me very pleasantly. From now on, I'll always surprise you. All the actors in my troupe are very talented and beautiful. We will all beautify your lives!"

Loud applause and the sound of glasses clinking against each other gave special meaning to her words. And Adelard immediately began to look around anxiously, hoping to see his love. But she was not here. Celeste was not here, and it made him worry, think, and suffer as no one else in this world has ever suffered.

"And now, our great man, our angel, Monsieur Adelard Mars!" And again there was a pain in his head that seemed ready to burst every vein. But Adelard held on, though he no longer had the strength to smile. When his tall figure, under the bright candles and surrounded by flowers and birds, appeared before everyone, the strangest thing happened in his life. He opened his mouth, his thoughts turned into words, and that was it. It was as if he had left his body and didn't know what he was talking about. Yes, he knew what he was saying, but he couldn't hear himself and didn't understand why all the people were laughing. The noise in his ears and the headache, along with the abrupt desire to be near Celeste, changed him to the point where he finished his speech without knowing what he was talking about. The tension throughout his body seemed about to pass, but he found it harder and harder to breathe with each passing second. Every candle seemed too bright to him, every clinking of the glasses was like an explosion, but the most interesting thing was that every person seemed to him to be Celeste.

"Adelard, what's wrong with you? Are you not well?" Jean asked, hugging him tightly by the shoulders, thereby making others feel jealous and want to be in his shoes.

"I don't know. It is just a headache. Jean, I'm going to faint."

"You need a drink. Here you go."

The red wine was completely tasteless, but Adelard drank it all and demanded more.

"What's the matter with you? I told you to go to the doctor, didn't I? Why didn't you go?"

"I went. But he wasn't there."

"You're going to the hospital tomorrow. I'm afraid for you. Adelard, don't scare me," Jean said, almost kissing him on purpose to anger everyone around him. Because he knew very well what the purpose of everyone here was. They all wanted one thing, and that was Adelard.

"Who is he? Is he his lover?" Jean heard this question, and taking advantage of the moment when Adelard was weak, he wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed him against him.

"Look at him! How cheeky he is. Right in front of everyone. What about Monsieur Adelard? Is he not well?"

"Don't you know who that is? It's his best friend named Jean. He is everywhere with him. He is like his shadow. I'm surprised you don't know him."

"I'm sure they're not just friends. And that's nasty," said that woman in the pink dress. "Rose, you shouldn't be so mean. You're just jealous. I can see what you want. I can see it in your hungry eyes. Maybe your husband can't make you happy anymore. But don't look at that angel. He's young and handsome, and you're old. He won't look at you," the man said, and everyone started laughing loudly. And only Esma stood nervously, wondering if all these people would understand the art she had brought with her.

"What's wrong with him? Is he not feeling well?" a man named Skye asked with worried expression. But Jean didn't let him worry any further. Almost pushing him away, he said, "He's fine. He just didn't sleep well."

"Yes. I heard that Monsieur works very hard. And I have heard that he always shares his money with those who need it most. He really is a very kind, one might say holy man," Skye continued, looking greedily at Adelard's pale face with frozen eyes and invisible lines of mouth.