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M'sieur Bonbon was not, as you might think, a grocer, pastry-cook, or confectioner; nor did he sell any sort of sweets or candy, as his name might perhaps suggest. He was the owner of a toyshop of the traditional sort. Everybody in Châlon knew him. The three low windows of his shop attracted the attention of passers-by from quite a distance. From top to bottom they were full of the most beautiful things, and when you stood in front of them, you didn't know where to look first. If you wanted to read the inscription which was emblazoned over the windows, you had to stand back a little. Then you saw large letters on the façade of the dilapidated house, which looked as though they had been kneaded out of bread dough. If you took the trouble to decipher them, you were able to make out: "Children's Paradise" If you opened the door of the shop, you heard an entire carillon. As the sound of the bells was dying away in the musty air of the low-ceilinged shop, but still hovering over all the toys, a musical box began to play whose works seemed to have been triggered mechanically: "Ping! ping! ping!"

Baeila! Baeila!
Open your door, my treasure,
The moon rose for her pleasure,
The sun went to his nightly shrine -
Be mine, be mine.
Ba ei ei ei ei ei ei ei ei ei la!

It always played the same melody, but one always liked listening to it. When it came to the last long-drawn out word "Baeila", a life-sized doll opened its mouth and sang: "Ba ei ei ei ei el ei la!" That was M'sieur Bonbon himself, who loved surprising his visitors. Everybody was amused by this reception, and when they began to look around, they felt as though they were in a dense, fairy-tale jungle whose magnificent colours shone out in grotesque and manifold splendour. It would be almost impossible to describe all the playthings and little knick-knacks to be found in this toyshop. If you took a few steps forward on the old wooden floor, the resulting tremors caused everything to move that was hanging on the walls or suspended from the ceiling, including all the objects that were piled up in heaps or pyramids on the floor: the Chinamen nodded their heads, the monkeys bobbed up and down on their long rubber bands, the spring-devils nodded and everything swung softly to and fro and back and forth. All sorts of noises were produced by this bouncing and nodding: here something chirped or croaked; there something squeaked or twittered; behind there in the corner the bells of a long-nosed Puccinello jingled and under the ceiling resounded the strings of a violin. And in the midst of all this - and goodness knows, what a hustle and bustle there was! - a doll kept crying out: "Mama!" But let us stop here and turn to M'sieur Bonbon and give an account of him. He was an entertaining figure, and we shall touch on this. Every single nook and corner of his entire face was creased in smiles which never faded and which, together with the way he never stopped rubbing his hands, made him appear a good-natured and sensible person - as indeed he was. His shirts and collars had little coloured flowers woven into them; over his waistcoat he wore three to four complicated and very striking watch-chains; his trousers were surprisingly short and showed his bright red socks. On his head he wore a white silk cap in the form of a folded paper ship. When a crowd of children had gathered outside his shop windows, pressing their noses flat against the panes so as to be able to see better, he did the same and after a while invited them all to step in. Then we know what happened - the carillon, the musical box and "Ba ei ei ei ei la!" made the children clap their hands and scream for joy. - "Come along, come right in!" M'sieur Bonbon sang out and led one after the other into his shop. "My little man, here are skipping ropes, whips, spinning tops. Here you have bridles for wild horses and the zoo. Over here - everybody over here! Here come soldiers marching with drums and trumpets, and this is the commander! Come here! Charlotte, Amély and Jeannette - here we have stoves, bath tubs, coloured balls, dolls of all sizes like organ pipes. In boxes, on swings, in little beds - take them into your hands, my treasure! Go on, pick it up, my dear! And you too, little lad!" - And he put a doll into every little girl's hand and let them pat and touch everything else with their free hands that they had pounced on in their unrestrained joy. Ha, M'sieur Bonbon was delighted to see the children's shining eyes light up and sparkle and to know that that small red thing in their chests leaped at the sight of all the beautiful playtoys. The owner of the toyshop stepped quickly behind the puppet theatre and to the jubilation of the cheering children had merry little Punch kill off the wicked devil with a large wooden hammer. And if M'sieur Bonbon was in a particularly good mood, he harnessed and saddled the biggest rocking horse, went down on his hands and knees behind it and allowed the whole crowd to ride pick-a-back. "My carriage, ho! my little horse, ha! - Goodbye Papa! Goodbye Mama! And now we are going to America!"

When the children were back home again, they were a bit of a nuisance to their parents: some wanted this, the others that, and in their dreams they cried out for M'sieur Bonbon's lovely toys. The owner of the toyshop really loved children and had not used such methods with the intention of enticing the parents of all the children in the little town of Châlon into his shop. But he did thus become fairly prosperous. Given the serenity of his character, he had never really experienced any of life's torments. He had inherited the toyshop from his father and there had never been any competition, neither in Châlon itself, nor in the surrounding area. M'sieur Bonbon used to calculate that within ten years he would be able to leave the musty and unhealthy shop and lead a quiet and pleasant life as a man of independent means. It had never occurred to him that things might turn out differently. He had complete and unshakeable trust in the government and the Great Father of his country, believing that the well-being and security of France's retired citizens were safe in his hands and that they would always be so. Grand Père would go to war should anybody in the world dare to question the right of M'sieur Bonbon and his peers to a enjoy the autumn of their lives free of care.

It was actually the first time that he pondered on such matters when, on the evening of October 25th, he made his way (as he did every evening) to the little wine tavern on the market place, where he was a regular. As if it was in the air, that evening while he was having his glass of wine, he was told by by Monsieur Aboux, the mayor of Châlon that a company from Orleans had bought the big empty square opposite the town hall to open a department store which was to be so modern and up to date that its like would not even be found in the capital city of Paris. "So, M'sieur Bonbon," said the mayor, "you will be having competition for the first time ever. As you know, every department store has a large toy section. The modern block is to be ready in a year." Having heard this report, M'sieur Bonbon finished his wine without saying a word, and went home rather weak in the knees. A year had passed. The department store "Le Soleil" was decked out with colourful bunting. The huge building was almost finished and the opening day approaching. All the small trades people trembled in anticipation of their certain ruin.

But then something strange happened which caused a great stir among the peace-loving citizens of Châlon. In the row of houses at the upper end of the town, a ghost had appeared in the night of 9th - 10h. October on all floors and had put all sorts of toys under the pillows and blankets of the sleeping children. Although nobody really wanted to believe in the ghost, the existence of the distributed toys was an indisputable fact. There was further agitation after a few days. The ghost was once again giving presents. The newspapers printed lengthy articles on the subject: "How did these brand new toys get into the hands of the children in the middle of the night?" Crowds assembled on the street; it was pretty bizarre affair. Then it happened. In the "Rue du Dragon", in little Jeanette's house. When she was getting out of bed, she was found holding in her arms a large doll with real blond hair and wonderful cornflower-blue eyes - the very doll that Jeanette had dearly wanted to have for so long. When she was asked how she had got this doll, the child told the following story. She had woken up at midnight. The moon was shining and, once the lingering echo of the bells had died away up on the big clock tower, she heard the gentle melody of a musical box. She heard a familiar voice singing just as softly, accompanying the tune of the musical box: "... the sun has long since set. Come down, come down! Ba ei ei ei ei la." Then a ghost appeared that smiled at her with great friendliness and whom, in spite of his transparency, she clearly recognised as M'sieur Bonbon; he gave her the doll, spoke to her very charmingly and kindly and flew off in a great hurry with many other toys under his arm. -

So that was it! This was what had happened: at night a ghost had given presents to the children in all the houses of the town. People now remembered that they had not seen M'sieur Bonbon for a long time and realised that he had probably died. The friendly ghost had appeared everywhere at night and had given toys to the little children, handing them in through windows and doors, hiding them behind curtains and in corners. It laid toys on their beds to the accompaniment of lovely melodies coming from musical boxes, the sound of bells and baeila-singing. And in the morning the children often found rocking horses, dolls' prams and dolls' houses next to their beds or in their cupboards. When the parents rooted around in their boxes and drawers, they kept on finding still more new toys for their children. So now it was clear what had happened: "M'sieur Bonbon's" friendly ghost had given away all his wares to the children of Châlon. Everybody hurried to his toyshop, two officials leading the way to investigate. The door was not locked; there was a note stuck on to the window: "Help yourselves - I have nothing left except presents!" But there was no longer much there. The empty shelves of the dilapidated shop yawned into the grey void. A transparent something became visible in the musty air; the contours were unmistakeable - it was M'sieur Bonbon. People recognised his smile, the way he rubbed his hands, and the memory of this splendid person made everybody rather tearful. The officials drew themselves up to their full height and began to take action. They tried to remove what goods were left, but every single piece was taken away from them by an invisible hand and every time a soft "Oho!" could be heard. The ghost passed on the items to the children who were standing around; they took everything they were given and made off in a hurry. When everything had been cleared away, the sound of bells could be heard coming from the corners, as if from another world. A beautiful musical box began to play, filling the air with silvery sounds: "Ping! ping! ping! ..."

Baeila! Baeila!
Open your door, my treasure,
The moon rose for her pleasure,
The sun went to his nightly shrine -
Be mine, be mine.
Ba ei ei ei ei ei ei ei ei ei la!

When the department store company realised that the ghost of the small tradesman, M'sieur Bonbon, had ruined their toy sales for at least a year, they had a small figure made of papier maché which was an exact replica of the dead man. The empty toy department was filled with large numbers of this original creation, and the firm made a lot of money. Every citizen of the town of Châlon, whether rich or poor, bought themselves that nice "M'sieur Bonbon's Ghost".

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