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diff --git a/25102-0.txt b/25102-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4546694 --- /dev/null +++ b/25102-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10839 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 25102 *** + + + +NOBODY'S BOY + +(_Sans Famille_) + + +BY HECTOR MALOT + +TRANSLATED BY FLORENCE CREWE-JONES + +_ILLUSTRATED IN COLOR BY_ JOHN B. GRUELLE + +NEW YORK MDCCCCXVI +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY + + +_Copyright, 1916, by_ CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY + + +Printed in U. S. A. + +[Illustration: "THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF REMI'S COMPANY." +(_See page 230_)] + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER PAGE + + I MY VILLAGE HOME 1 + + II MY ADOPTED FATHER 10 + + III SIGNOR VITALIS' COMPANY 21 + + IV THE MATERNAL HOUSE 35 + + V EN ROUTE 43 + + VI MY DÉBUT 49 + + VII CHILD AND ANIMAL LEARNING 61 + + VIII ONE WHO HAD KNOWN A KING 67 + + IX ARRESTED 74 + + X HOMELESS 85 + + XI ANOTHER BOY'S MOTHER 109 + + XII THE MASTER'S CONSENT 120 + + XIII WEARY DREARY DAYS 128 + + XIV THE DEATH OF PRETTY-HEART 148 + + XV FAITHFUL FRIENDS 163 + + XVI THE PADRONE 169 + + XVII POOR VITALIS 184 + +XVIII NEW FRIENDS 194 + + XIX DISASTER 205 + + XX MATTIA 220 + + XXI MEETING OLD FRIENDS 236 + + XXII IMPRISONED IN A MINE 244 + +XXIII ONCE MORE UPON THE WAY 262 + + XXIV FRIENDSHIP THAT IS TRUE 270 + + XXV MOTHER, BROTHERS AND SISTERS 294 + + XXVI BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT 304 + +XXVII A DISTRESSING DISCOVERY 312 + +XXVIII A MYSTERIOUS STRANGER 330 + + XXIX IN PRISON 335 + + XXX ESCAPE 345 + + XXXI HUNTING FOR THE SWAN 353 + + XXXII FINDING A REAL MOTHER 359 + +XXXIII THE DREAM COME TRUE 368 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF REMI'S COMPANY" (_See Page 230_) + _Frontispiece_ + + PAGE + +"I'LL GIVE YOU THIRTY FRANCS FOR HIM" 33 + +"FOR EACH CRY YOU WILL RECEIVE ANOTHER SLASH" 181 + +"LET US NOW PLAY FOR THOSE WE LOVE" 371 + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +"Nobody's Boy," published in France under the title "Sans Famille," has +become justly famous as one of the supreme juvenile stories of the +world. In the midst of its early popularity, it was crowned by the +Academy as one of the masterpieces of French literature. A few years +later, it was followed by "En Famille," which is published by us as a +companion story under the title "Nobody's Girl." + +"Nobody's Boy" is a human document of child experiences that is +fascinating reading for young and old. Parents, teachers and others, who +are careful to have children read inspiring books, will welcome this +beautiful story of Hector Malot, as among the best for them to +recommend. + +Such digressions in the original, as do not belong to the heart of the +story, have been eliminated, so that the lost boy's experiences continue +as the undisturbed interest, on through to the happy conclusion. + +Loyal friendship and honest conduct are the vital ideals of this story, +and the heart interest is eloquent with noble character. + + THE PUBLISHERS. + + + + +NOBODY'S BOY + + + + +CHAPTER I + +MY VILLAGE HOME + + +I was a foundling. But until I was eight years of age I thought I had a +mother like other children, for when I cried a woman held me tightly in +her arms and rocked me gently until my tears stopped falling. I never +got into bed without her coming to kiss me, and when the December winds +blew the icy snow against the window panes, she would take my feet +between her hands and warm them, while she sang to me. Even now I can +remember the song she used to sing. If a storm came on while I was out +minding our cow, she would run down the lane to meet me, and cover my +head and shoulders with her cotton skirt so that I should not get wet. + +When I had a quarrel with one of the village boys she made me tell her +all about it, and she would talk kindly to me when I was wrong and +praise me when I was in the right. By these and many other things, by +the way she spoke to me and looked at me, and the gentle way she scolded +me, I believed that she was my mother. + +My village, or, to be more exact, the village where I was brought up, +for I did not have a village of my own, no birthplace, any more than I +had a father or mother--the village where I spent my childhood was +called Chavanon; it is one of the poorest in France. Only sections of +the land could be cultivated, for the great stretch of moors was covered +with heather and broom. We lived in a little house down by the brook. + +Until I was eight years of age I had never seen a man in our house; yet +my adopted mother was not a widow, but her husband, who was a +stone-cutter, worked in Paris, and he had not been back to the village +since I was of an age to notice what was going on around me. +Occasionally he sent news by some companion who returned to the village, +for there were many of the peasants who were employed as stone-cutters +in the city. + +"Mother Barberin," the man would say, "your husband is quite well, and +he told me to tell you that he's still working, and to give you this +money. Will you count it?" + +That was all. Mother Barberin was satisfied, her husband was well and he +had work. + +Because Barberin was away from home it must not be thought that he was +not on good terms with his wife. He stayed in Paris because his work +kept him there. When he was old he would come back and live with his +wife on the money that he had saved. + +One November evening a man stopped at our gate. I was standing on the +doorstep breaking sticks. He looked over the top bar of the gate and +called to me to know if Mother Barberin lived there. I shouted yes and +told him to come in. He pushed open the old gate and came slowly up to +the house. I had never seen such a dirty man. He was covered with mud +from head to foot. It was easy to see that he had come a distance on bad +roads. Upon hearing our voices Mother Barberin ran out. + +"I've brought some news from Paris," said the man. + +Something in the man's tone alarmed Mother Barberin. + +"Oh, dear," she cried, wringing her hands, "something has happened to +Jerome!" + +"Yes, there is, but don't get scared. He's been hurt, but he ain't dead, +but maybe he'll be deformed. I used to share a room with him, and as I +was coming back home he asked me to give you the message. I can't stop +as I've got several miles to go, and it's getting late." + +But Mother Barberin wanted to know more; she begged him to stay to +supper. The roads were so bad! and they did say that wolves had been +seen on the outskirts of the wood. He could go early in the morning. +Wouldn't he stay? + +Yes, he would. He sat down by the corner of the fire and while eating +his supper told us how the accident had occurred. Barberin had been +terribly hurt by a falling scaffold, and as he had had no business to +be in that particular spot, the builder had refused to pay an indemnity. + +"Poor Barberin," said the man as he dried the legs of his trousers, +which were now quite stiff under the coating of mud, "he's got no luck, +no luck! Some chaps would get a mint o' money out of an affair like +this, but your man won't get nothing!" + +"No luck!" he said again in such a sympathetic tone, which showed +plainly that he for one would willingly have the life half crushed out +of his body if he could get a pension. "As I tell him, he ought to sue +that builder." + +"A lawsuit," exclaimed Mother Barberin, "that costs a lot of money." + +"Yes, but if you win!" + +Mother Barberin wanted to start off to Paris, only it was such a +terrible affair ... the journey was so long, and cost so much! + +The next morning we went into the village and consulted the priest. He +advised her not to go without first finding out if she could be of any +use. He wrote to the hospital where they had taken Barberin, and a few +days later received a reply saying that Barberin's wife was not to go, +but that she could send a certain sum of money to her husband, because +he was going to sue the builder upon whose works he had met with the +accident. + +Days and weeks passed, and from time to time letters came asking for +more money. The last, more insistent than the previous ones, said that +if there was no more money the cow must be sold to procure the sum. + +Only those who have lived in the country with the peasants know what +distress there is in these three words, "Sell the cow." As long as they +have their cow in the shed they know that they will not suffer from +hunger. We got butter from ours to put in the soup, and milk to moisten +the potatoes. We lived so well from ours that until the time of which I +write I had hardly ever tasted meat. But our cow not only gave us +nourishment, she was our friend. Some people imagine that a cow is a +stupid animal. It is not so, a cow is most intelligent. When we spoke to +ours and stroked her and kissed her, she understood us, and with her big +round eyes which looked so soft, she knew well enough how to make us +know what she wanted and what she did not want. In fact, she loved us +and we loved her, and that is all there is to say. However, we had to +part with her, for it was only by the sale of the cow that Barberin's +husband would be satisfied. + +A cattle dealer came to our house, and after thoroughly examining +Rousette,--all the time shaking his head and saying that she would not +suit him at all, he could never sell her again, she had no milk, she +made bad butter,--he ended by saying that he would take her, but only +out of kindness because Mother Barberin was an honest good woman. + +Poor Rousette, as though she knew what was happening, refused to come +out of the barn and began to bellow. + +"Go in at the back of her and chase her out," the man said to me, +holding out a whip which he had carried hanging round his neck. + +"No, that he won't," cried mother. Taking poor Rousette by the loins, +she spoke to her softly: "There, my beauty, come ... come along then." + +Rousette could not resist her, and then, when she got to the road, the +man tied her up behind his cart and his horse trotted off and she had to +follow. + +We went back to the house, but for a long time we could hear her +bellowing. No more milk, no butter! In the morning a piece of bread, at +night some potatoes with salt. + +Shrove Tuesday happened to be a few days after we had sold the cow. The +year before Mother Barberin had made a feast for me with pancakes and +apple fritters, and I had eaten so many that she had beamed and laughed +with pleasure. But now we had no Rousette to give us milk or butter, so +there would be no Shrove Tuesday, I said to myself sadly. + +But Mother Barberin had a surprise for me. Although she was not in the +habit of borrowing, she had asked for a cup of milk from one of the +neighbors, a piece of butter from another, and when I got home about +midday she was emptying the flour into a big earthenware bowl. + +"Oh," I said, going up to her, "flour?" + +"Why, yes," she said, smiling, "it's flour, my little Remi, beautiful +flour. See what lovely flakes it makes." + +Just because I was so anxious to know what the flour was for I did not +dare ask. And besides I did not want her to know that I remembered that +it was Shrove Tuesday for fear she might feel unhappy. + +"What does one make with flour?" she asked, smiling at me. + +"Bread." + +"What else?" + +"Pap." + +"And what else?" + +"Why, I don't know." + +"Yes, you know, only as you are a good little boy, you don't dare say. +You know that to-day is Pancake day, and because you think we haven't +any butter and milk you don't dare speak. Isn't that so, eh? + +"Oh, Mother." + +"I didn't mean that Pancake day should be so bad after all for my little +Remi. Look in that bin." + +I lifted up the lid quickly and saw some milk, butter, eggs, and three +apples. + +"Give me the eggs," she said; "while I break them, you peel the apples." + +While I cut the apples into slices, she broke the eggs into the flour +and began to beat the mixture, adding a little milk from time to time. +When the paste was well beaten she placed the big earthenware bowl on +the warm cinders, for it was not until supper time that we were to have +the pancakes and fritters. I must say frankly that it was a very long +day, and more than once I lifted up the cloth that she had thrown over +the bowl. + +"You'll make the paste cold," she cried; "and it won't rise well." + +But it was rising well, little bubbles were coming up on the top. And +the eggs and milk were beginning to smell good. + +"Go and chop some wood," Mother Barberin said; "we need a good clear +fire." + +At last the candle was lit. + +"Put the wood on the fire!" + +She did not have to say this twice; I had been waiting impatiently to +hear these words. Soon a bright flame leaped up the chimney and the +light from the fire lit up all the kitchen. Then Mother Barberin took +down the frying pan from its hook and placed it on the fire. + +"Give me the butter!" + +With the end of her knife she slipped a piece as large as a nut into the +pan, where it melted and spluttered. It was a long time since we had +smelled that odor. How good that butter smelled! I was listening to it +fizzing when I heard footsteps out in our yard. + +Whoever could be coming to disturb us at this hour? A neighbor perhaps +to ask for some firewood. I couldn't think, for just at that moment +Mother Barberin put her big wooden spoon into the bowl and was pouring +a spoonful of the paste into the pan, and it was not the moment to let +one's thoughts wander. Somebody knocked on the door with a stick, then +it was flung open. + +"Who's there?" asked Mother Barberin, without turning round. + +A man had come in. By the bright flame which lit him up I could see that +he carried a big stick in his hand. + +"So, you're having a feast here, don't disturb yourselves," he said +roughly. + +"Oh, Lord!" cried Mother Barberin, putting the frying pan quickly on the +floor, "is it you, Jerome." + +Then, taking me by the arm she dragged me towards the man who had +stopped in the doorway. + +"Here's your father." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +MY ADOPTED FATHER + + +Mother Barberin kissed her husband; I was about to do the same when he +put out his stick and stopped me. + +"What's this?... you told me...." + +"Well, yes, but it isn't true ... because...." + +"Ah, it isn't true, eh?" + +He stepped towards me with his stick raised; instinctively I shrunk +back. What had I done? Nothing wrong, surely! I was only going to kiss +him. I looked at him timidly, but he had turned from me and was speaking +to Mother Barberin. + +"So you're keeping Shrove Tuesday," he said. "I'm glad, for I'm +famished. What have you got for supper?" + +"I was making some pancakes and apple fritters." + +"So I see, but you're not going to give pancakes to a man who has +covered the miles that I have." + +"I haven't anything else. You see we didn't expect you." + +"What? nothing else! Nothing for supper!" He glanced round the kitchen. + +"There's some butter." + +He looked up at the ceiling, at the spot where the bacon used to hang, +but for a long time there had been nothing on the hook; only a few ropes +of onions and garlic hung from the beam now. + +"Here's some onions," he said, knocking a rope down with his big stick; +"with four or five onions and a piece of butter we'll have a good soup. +Take out the pancakes and fry the onions in the pan!" + +"Take the pancakes out of the frying pan!" + +Without a word, Mother Barberin hurried to do what her husband asked. He +sat down on a chair by the corner of the fireplace. I had not dared to +leave the place where his stick had sent me. Leaning against the table, +I looked at him. + +He was a man about fifty with a hard face and rough ways. His head +leaned a little bit towards his right shoulder, on account of the wound +he had received, and this deformity gave him a still more forbidding +aspect. + +Mother Barberin had put the frying pan again on the fire. + +"Is it with a little bit of butter like that you're going to try and +make a soup?" he asked. Thereupon he seized the plate with the butter +and threw it all into the pan. No more butter ... then ... no more +pancakes. + +At any other moment I should have been greatly upset at this +catastrophe, but I was not thinking of the pancakes and fritters now. +The thought that was uppermost in my mind was, that this man who seemed +so cruel was my father! My father! Absently I said the word over and +over again to myself. I had never thought much what a father would be. +Vaguely, I had imagined him to be a sort of mother with a big voice, but +in looking at this one who had fallen from heaven, I felt greatly +worried and frightened. I had wanted to kiss him and he had pushed me +away with his stick. Why? My mother had never pushed me away when I went +to kiss her; on the contrary, she always took me in her arms and held me +tight. + +"Instead of standing there as though you're made of wood," he said, "put +the plates on the table." + +I nearly fell down in my haste to obey. The soup was made. Mother +Barberin served it on the plates. Then, leaving the big chimney corner, +he came and sat down and commenced to eat, stopping only from time to +time to glance at me. I felt so uncomfortable that I could not eat. I +looked at him also, but out of the corner of my eye, then I turned my +head quickly when I caught his eye. + +"Doesn't he eat more than that usually?" he asked suddenly. + +"Oh, yes, he's got a good appetite." + +"That's a pity. He doesn't seem to want his supper now, though." + +Mother Barberin did not seem to want to talk. She went to and fro, +waiting on her husband. + +"Ain't you hungry?" + +"No." + +"Well then, go to bed and go to sleep at once. If you don't I'll be +angry." + +My mother gave me a look which told me to obey without answering. But +there was no occasion for this warning. I had not thought of saying a +word. + +As in a great many poor homes, our kitchen was also the bedroom. Near +the fireplace were all the things for the meals--the table, the pots and +pans, and the sideboard; at the other end was the bedroom. In a corner +stood Mother Barberin's big bed, in the opposite corner, in a little +alcove, was my bed under a red figured curtain. + +I hurriedly undressed and got into bed. But to go to sleep was another +thing. I was terribly worried and very unhappy. How could this man be my +father? And if he was, why did he treat me so badly? + +With my nose flattened against the wall I tried to drive these thoughts +away and go to sleep as he had ordered me, but it was impossible. Sleep +would not come. I had never felt so wide awake. + +After a time, I could not say how long, I heard some one coming over to +my bed. The slow step was heavy and dragged, so I knew at once that it +was not Mother Barberin. I felt a warm breath on my cheek. + +"Are you asleep?" This was said in a harsh whisper. + +I took care not to answer, for the terrible words, "I'll be angry" still +rang in my ears. + +"He's asleep," said Mother Barberin; "the moment he gets into bed he +drops off. You can talk without being afraid that he'll hear." + +I ought, of course, to have told him that I was not asleep, but I did +not dare. I had been ordered to go to sleep, I was not yet asleep, so I +was in the wrong. + +"Well, what about your lawsuit?" asked Mother Barberin. + +"Lost it. The judge said that I was to blame for being under the +scaffold." Thereupon he banged his fist on the table and began to swear, +without saying anything that meant anything. + +"Case lost," he went on after a moment; "money lost, all gone, poverty +staring us in the face. And as though that isn't enough, when I get back +here, I find a child. Why didn't you do what I told you to do?" + +"Because I couldn't." + +"You could not take him to a Foundlings' Home?" + +"A woman can't give up a little mite like that if she's fed it with her +own milk and grown to love it." + +"It's not your child." + +"Well, I wanted to do what you told me, but just at that very moment he +fell ill." + +"Ill?" + +"Yes. Then I couldn't take him to that place. He might have died." + +"But when he got better?" + +"Well, he didn't get better all at once. After that sickness another +came. He coughed so it would have made your heart bleed to hear him, +poor little mite. Our little Nicolas died like that. It seemed to me +that if I sent him to the Foundlings' Home he'd died also." + +"But after?... after?" + +"Well, time went on and I thought that as I'd put off going I'd put it +off a bit longer." + +"How old is he now?" + +"Eight." + +"Well then, he'll go now to the place where he should have gone sooner, +and he won't like it so well now." + +"Oh, Jerome, you can't ... you won't do that!" + +"Won't I? and who's going to stop me? Do you think we can keep him +always?" + +There was a moment's silence. I was hardly able to breathe. The lump in +my throat nearly choked me. After a time Mother Barberin went on: + +"How Paris has changed you! You wouldn't have spoken like that to me +before you went away." + +"Perhaps not. But if Paris has changed me, it's also pretty near killed +me. I can't work now. We've got no money. The cow's sold. When we +haven't enough to feed ourselves, have we got to feed a child that don't +belong to us?" + +"He's mine." + +"He's no more yours than mine. Besides, he ain't a country boy. He's no +poor man's child. He's a delicate morsel, no arms, no legs." + +"He's the prettiest boy in the village!" + +"I don't say he ain't pretty. But sturdy, no! Do you think you can make +a working man out of a chit with shoulders like his? He's a city child +and there's no place for city children here." + +"I tell you he's a fine boy and as intelligent and cute as a little cat, +and he's got a good heart, and he'll work for us...." + +"In the meantime we've got to work for him, and I'm no good for much +now." + +"If his parents claim him, what will you say?" + +"His parents! Has he got any parents? They would have found him by now +if he had. It was a crazy thing for me to think that his parents would +come and claim him some day and pay us for his keep. I was a fool. +'Cause he was wrapped up in fine clothes trimmed with lace, that wasn't +to say that his parents were going to hunt for him. Besides, they're +dead." + +"Perhaps they're not. And one day they may come...." + +"If you women ain't obstinate!" + +"But if they do come?" + +"Well, we've sent him to the Home. But we've said enough. I'll take him +to-morrow. I'm going 'round to see François now. I'll be back in an +hour." + +The door was opened and closed again. He had gone. Then I quickly sat up +in bed and began to call to Mother Barberin. + +"Say! Mamma!" + +She ran over to my bed. + +"Are you going to let me go to the Foundlings' Home?" + +"No, my little Remi, no." + +She kissed me and held me tight in her arms. I felt better after that +and my tears dried on my cheeks. + +"You didn't go to sleep, then?" she asked softly. + +"It wasn't my fault." + +"I'm not scolding you. You heard what he said, then?" + +"Yes, you're not my mamma, but ... he isn't my father." + +The last words I had said in a different tone because, although I was +unhappy at learning that she was not my mother, I was glad, I was almost +proud, to know that he was not my father. This contradiction of my +feelings betrayed itself in my voice. Mother Barberin did not appear to +notice. + +"Perhaps I ought to have told you the truth, but you seemed so much my +own boy that I couldn't tell you I was not your real mother. You heard +what Jerome said, my boy. He found you one day in a street in Paris, the +Avenue de Breuteuil. It was in February, early in the morning, he was +going to work when he heard a baby cry, and he found you on a step. He +looked about to call some one, and as he did so a man came out from +behind a tree and ran away. You cried so loud that Jerome didn't like to +put you back on the step again. While he was wondering what to do, some +more men came along, and they all decided that they'd take you to the +police station. You wouldn't stop crying. Poor mite, you must have been +cold. But then, when they got you warm at the station house, you still +cried, so they thought you were hungry, and they got you some milk. My! +you were hungry! When you'd had enough they undressed you and held you +before the fire. You were a beautiful pink boy, and all dressed in +lovely clothes. The lieutenant wrote down a description of the clothes +and where you were found, and said that he should have to send you to +the Home unless one of the men liked to take charge of you. Such a +beautiful, fine child it wouldn't be difficult to bring up, he said, and +the parents would surely make a search for it and pay any one well for +looking after it, so Jerome said he'd take it. Just at that time I had a +baby the same age. So I was well able to feed both you two mites. There, +dearie, that was how I came to be your mother." + +"Oh, Mamma, Mamma!" + +"Yes, dearie, there! and at the end of three months I lost my own little +baby and then I got even more fond of you. It was such a pity Jerome +couldn't forget, and seeing at the end of three years that your parents +hadn't come after you, he tried to make me send you to the Home. You +heard why I didn't do as he told me?" + +"Oh, don't send me to the Home," I cried, clinging to her, "Mother +Barberin, please, please, don't send me to the Home." + +"No, dearie, no, you shan't go. I'll settle it. Jerome is not really +unkind, you'll see. He's had a lot of trouble and he is kind of worried +about the future. We'll all work, you shall work, too." + +"Yes, yes, I'll do anything you want me to do, but don't send me to the +Home." + +"You shan't go, that is if you promise to go to sleep at once. When he +returns he mustn't find you awake." + +She kissed me and turned me over with my face to the wall. I wanted to +go to sleep, but I had received too hard a blow to slip off quietly into +slumberland. Dear good Mother Barberin was not my own mother! Then what +was a real mother? Something better, something sweeter still? It wasn't +possible! Then I thought that a real father might not have held up his +stick to me.... He wanted to send me to the Home, would mother be able +to prevent him? + +In the village there were two children from the Home. They were called +"workhouse children." They had a metal plaque hung round their necks +with a number on it. They were badly dressed, and so dirty! All the +other children made fun of them and threw stones at them. They chased +them like boys chase a lost dog, for fun, and because a stray dog has no +one to protect it. Oh, I did not want to be like those children. I did +not want to have a number hung round my neck. I did not want them to +call after me, "Hi, Workhouse Kid; Hi Foundling!" The very thought of it +made me feel cold and my teeth chatter. I could not go to sleep. And +Barberin was coming back soon! + +But fortunately he did not return until very late, and sleep came before +he arrived. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +SIGNOR VITALIS' COMPANY + + +That night I dreamed that I had been taken to the Home. When I opened my +eyes in the early morning I could scarcely believe that I was still +there in my little bed. I felt the bed and pinched my arms to see if it +were true. Ah, yes, I was still with Mother Barberin. + +She said nothing to me all the morning, and I began to think that they +had given up the idea of sending me away. Perhaps she had said that she +was determined to keep me. But when mid day came Barberin told me to put +on my cap and follow him. I looked at Mother Barberin to implore her to +help me. Without her husband noticing she made me a sign to go with him. +I obeyed. She tapped me on the shoulder as I passed her, to let me know +that I had nothing to fear. Without a word I followed him. + +It was some distance from our house to the village--a good hour's walk. +Barberin never said a word to me the whole way. He walked along, +limping. Now and again he turned 'round to see if I was following. Where +was he taking me? I asked myself the question again and again. Despite +the reassuring sign that Mother Barberin had made, I felt that something +was going to happen to me and I wanted to run away. I tried to lag +behind, thinking that I would jump down into a ditch where Barberin +could not catch me. + +At first he had seemed satisfied that I should tramp along just behind +him, on his heels, but he evidently soon began to suspect what I +intended to do, and he grabbed me by the wrist. I was forced to keep up +with him. This was the way we entered the village. Every one who passed +us turned round to stare, for I looked like a bad dog held on a leash. + +As we were about to pass the tavern, a man who was standing in the +doorway called to Barberin and asked him to go in. Barberin took me by +the ear and pushed me in before him, and when we got inside he closed +the door. I felt relieved. This was only the village tavern, and for a +long time I had wanted to see what it was like inside. I had often +wondered what was going on behind the red curtains, I was going to know +now.... + +Barberin sat down at a table with the boss who had asked him to go in. I +sat by the fireplace. In a corner near me there was a tall old man with +a long white beard. He wore a strange costume. I had never seen anything +like it before. Long ringlets fell to his shoulders and he wore a tall +gray hat ornamented with green and red feathers. A sheepskin, the woolly +side turned inside, was fastened round his body. There were no sleeves +to the skin, but through two large holes, cut beneath the shoulders, his +arms were thrust, covered with velvet sleeves which had once been blue +in color. Woolen gaiters reached up to his knees, and to hold them in +place a ribbon was interlaced several times round his legs. He sat with +his elbow resting on his crossed knees. I had never seen a living person +in such a quiet calm attitude. He looked to me like one of the saints in +our Church. Lying beside him were three dogs--a white spaniel, a black +spaniel, and a pretty little gray dog with a sharp, cute little look. +The white spaniel wore a policeman's old helmet, which was fastened +under its chin with a leather strap. + +While I stared at the man in wonder, Barberin and the owner of the +tavern talked in low voices. I knew that I was the subject of their +talk. Barberin was telling him that he had brought me to the village to +take me to the mayor's office, so that the mayor should ask the Charity +Home to pay for my keep. That was all that dear Mother Barberin had been +able to do, but I felt that if Barberin could get something for keeping +me I had nothing to fear. + +The old man, who without appearing, had evidently been listening, +suddenly pointed to me, and turning to Barberin said with a marked +foreign accent: + +"Is that the child that's in your way?" + +"That's him." + +"And you think the Home is going to pay you for his keep?" + +"Lord! as he ain't got no parents and I've been put to great expense +for him, it is only right that the town should pay me something." + +"I don't say it isn't, but do you think that just because a thing is +right, it's done?" + +"That, no!" + +"Well, then I don't think you'll ever get what you're after." + +"Then he goes to the Home, there's no law that forces me to keep him in +my place if I don't want to." + +"You agreed in the beginning to take him, so it's up to you to keep your +promise." + +"Well, I ain't going to keep him. And when I want to turn him out I'll +do so." + +"Perhaps there's a way to get rid of him now," said the old man after a +moment's thought, "and make a little money into the bargain." + +"If you'll show me how, I'll stand a drink." + +"Order the drinks, the affair's settled." + +"Sure? + +"Sure." + +The old man got up and took a seat opposite Barberin. A strange thing, +as he rose, I saw his sheepskin move. It was lifted up, and I wondered +if he had another dog under his arm. + +What were they going to do with me? My heart beat against my side, I +could not take my eyes off the old man. + +"You won't let this child eat any more of your bread unless somebody +pays for it, that's it, isn't it?" + +"That's it ... because...." + +"Never mind the reason. That don't concern me. Now if you don't want +him, just give him to me. I'll take charge of him." + +"You? take charge of him!" + +"You want to get rid of him, don't you?" + +"Give you a child like him, a beautiful boy, for he is beautiful, the +prettiest boy in the village, look at him." + +"I've looked at him." + +"Remi, come here." + +I went over to the table, my knees trembling. + +"There, don't be afraid, little one," said the old man. + +"Just look at him," said Barberin again. + +"I don't say that he is a homely child, if he was I wouldn't want him. I +don't want a monster." + +"Ah, now if he was a monster with two ears, or even a dwarf...." + +"You'd keep him, you could make your fortune out of a monster. But this +little boy is not a dwarf, nor a monster, so you can't exhibit him: he's +made the same as others, and he's no good for anything." + +"He's good for work." + +"He's not strong." + +"Not strong, him! Land's sakes! He's as strong as any man, look at his +legs, they're that solid! Have you ever seen straighter legs than his?" + +Barberin pulled up my pants. + +"Too thin," said the old man. + +"And his arms?" continued Barberin. + +"Like his legs ... might be better. They can't hold out against fatigue +and poverty." + +"What, them legs and arms? Feel 'em. Just see for yourself." + +The old man passed his skinny hand over my legs and felt them, shaking +his head the while and making a grimace. + +I had already seen a similar scene enacted when the cattle dealer came +to buy our cow. He also had felt and pinched the cow. He also had shaken +his head and said that it was not a good cow, it would be impossible to +sell it again, and yet after all he had bought it and taken it away with +him. Was the old man going to buy me and take me away with him? Oh, +Mother Barberin! Mother Barberin! + +If I had dared I would have said that only the night before Barberin had +reproached me for seeming delicate and having thin arms and legs, but I +felt that I should gain nothing by it but an angry word, so I kept +silent. + +For a long time they wrangled over my good and bad points. + +"Well, such as he is," said the old man at last, "I'll take him, but +mind you, I don't buy him outright. I'll hire him. I'll give you twenty +francs a year for him." + +"Twenty francs!" + +"That's a good sum, and I'll pay in advance." + +"But if I keep him the town will pay me more than ten francs a month." + +"I know what you'd get from the town, and besides you've got to feed +him." + +"He will work." + +"If you thought that he could work you wouldn't be so anxious to get rid +of him. It is not for the money that's paid for their keep that you +people take in lost children, it's for the work that you can get out of +them. You make servants of them, they pay you and they themselves get no +wages. If this child could have done much for you, you would have kept +him." + +"Anyway, I should always have ten francs a month." + +"And if the Home, instead of letting you have him, gave him to some one +else, you wouldn't get anything at all. Now with me you won't have to +run for your money, all you have to do is to hold out your hand." + +He pulled a leather purse from his pocket, counting out four silver +pieces of money; he threw them down on the table, making them ring as +they fell. + +"But think," cried Barberin; "this child's parents will show up one day +or the other." + +"What does that matter?" + +"Well, those who've brought him up will get something. If I hadn't +thought of that I wouldn't have taken him in the first place." + +Oh! the wicked man! How I did dislike Barberin! + +"Now, look here, it's because you think his parents won't show up now +that you're turning him out," said the old man. "Well, if by any chance +they do appear, they'll go straight to you, not to me, for nobody knows +me." + +"But if it's you who finds them?" + +"Well, in that case we'll go shares and I'll put thirty down for him +now." + +"Make it forty." + +"No, for what he'll do for me that isn't possible." + +"What do you want him to do for you? For good legs, he's got good legs; +for good arms, he's got good arms. I hold to what I said before. What +are you going to do with him?" + +Then the old man looked at Barberin mockingly, then emptied his glass +slowly: + +"He's just to keep me company. I'm getting old and at night I get a bit +lonesome. When one is tired it's nice to have a child around." + +"Well, for that I'm sure his legs are strong enough." + +"Oh, not too much so, for he must also dance and jump and walk, and then +walk and jump again. He'll take his place in Signor Vitalis' traveling +company." + +"Where's this company?" + +"I am Signor Vitalis, and I'll show you the company right here." + +With this he opened the sheepskin and took out a strange animal which he +held on his left arm, pressed against his chest. This was the animal +that had several times raised the sheepskin, but it was not a little dog +as I had thought. I found no name to give to this strange creature, +which I saw for the first time. I looked at it in astonishment. It was +dressed in a red coat trimmed with gold braid, but its arms and legs +were bare, for they really were arms and legs, and not paws, but they +were covered with a black, hairy skin, they were not white or pink. The +head which was as large as a clenched fist was wide and short, the +turned-up nose had spreading nostrils, and the lips were yellow. But +what struck me more than anything, were the two eyes, close to each +other, which glittered like glass. + +"Oh, the ugly monkey!" cried Barberin. + +A monkey! I opened my eyes still wider. So this was a monkey, for +although I had never seen a monkey, I had heard of them. So this little +tiny creature that looked like a black baby was a monkey! + +"This is the star of my company," said Signor Vitalis. "This is Mr. +Pretty-Heart. Now, Pretty-Heart,"--turning to the animal--"make your bow +to the society." + +The monkey put his hand to his lips and threw a kiss to each of us. + +"Now," continued Signor Vitalis, holding out his hand to the white +spaniel, "the next. Signor Capi will have the honor of introducing his +friends to the esteemed company here present." + +The spaniel, who up till this moment had not made a movement, jumped up +quickly, and standing on his hind paws, crossed his fore paws on his +chest and bowed to his master so low that his police helmet touched the +ground. This polite duty accomplished, he turned to his companions, and +with one paw still pressed on his chest, he made a sign with the other +for them to draw nearer. The two dogs, whose eyes had been fixed on the +white spaniel, got up at once and giving' each one of us his paw, shook +hands as one does in polite society, and then taking a few steps back +bowed to us in turn. + +"The one I call 'Capi,'" said Signor Vitalis, "which is an abbreviation +of _Capitano_ in Italian, is the chief. He is the most intelligent and +he conveys my orders to the others. That black haired young dandy is +Signor Zerbino, which signifies 'the sport.' Notice him and I am sure +you will admit that the name is very appropriate. And that young person +with, the modest air is Miss Dulcie. She is English, and her name is +chosen on account of her sweet disposition. With these remarkable +_artistes_ I travel through the country, earning my living, sometimes +good, sometimes bad, ... it is a matter of luck! Capi!..." + +The spaniel crossed his paws. + +"Capi, come here, and be on your best behavior. These people are well +brought up, and they must be spoken to with great politeness. Be good +enough to tell this little boy who is looking at you with such big, +round eyes what time it is." + +Capi uncrossed his paws, went up to his master, drew aside the +sheepskin, and after feeling in his vest pocket pulled out a large +silver watch. He looked at the watch for a moment, then gave two +distinct barks, then after these two decisive sharp barks, he uttered +three little barks, not so loud nor so clear. + +The hour was quarter of three. + +"Very good," said Vitalis; "thank you, Signor Capi. And now ask Miss +Dulcie to oblige us by dancing with the skipping rope." + +Capi again felt in his master's vest pocket and pulled out a cord. He +made a brief sign to Zerbino, who immediately took his position opposite +to him. Then Capi threw him one end of the cord and they both began to +turn it very gravely. Then Dulcie jumped lightly into the rope and with +her beautiful soft eyes fixed on her master, began to skip. + +"You see how intelligent they are," said Vitalis; "their intelligence +would be even more appreciated if I drew comparisons. For instance, if I +had a fool to act with them. That is why I want your boy. He is to be +the fool so that the dogs' intelligence will stand out in a more marked +manner." + +"Oh, he's to be the fool...." interrupted Barberin. + +"It takes a clever man to play the fool," said Vitalis, "the boy will be +able to act the part with a few lessons. We'll test him at once. If he +has any intelligence he will understand that with me he will be able to +see the country and other countries besides; but if he stays here all he +can do is to drive a herd of cattle in the same fields from morning to +night. If he hasn't any intelligence he'll cry and stamp his feet, and +then I won't take him with me and he'll be sent to the Foundlings' Home, +where he'll have to work hard and have little to eat." + +I had enough intelligence to know this, ... the dogs were very funny, +and it would be fun to be with them always, but Mother, Mother +Barberin!... I could not leave her!... Then if I refused perhaps I +should not stay with Mother Barberin.... I might be sent to the Home. I +was very unhappy, and as my eyes filled with tears, Signor Vitalis +tapped me gently on the cheek. + +"Ah, the little chap understands because he does not make a great noise. +He is arguing the matter in his little head, and to-morrow...." + +"Oh, sir," I cried, "let me stay with Mother Barberin, please let me +stay." + +I could not say more, for Capi's loud barking interrupted me. At the +same moment the dog sprang towards the table upon which Pretty-Heart was +seated. The monkey, profiting by the moment when every one was occupied +with me, had quickly seized his master's glass, which was full of wine, +and was about to empty it. But Capi, who was a good watch dog, had seen +the monkey's trick and like the faithful servant that he was, he had +foiled him. + +[Illustration: "I'LL GIVE YOU THIRTY FRANCS FOR HIM."] + +"Mr. Pretty-Heart," said Vitalis severely, "you are a glutton and a +thief; go over there into the corner and turn your face to the wall, and +you, Zerbino, keep guard: if he moves give him a good slap. As to you, +Mr. Capi, you are a good dog, give me your paw. I'd like to shake hands +with you." + +The monkey, uttering little stifled cries, obeyed and went into the +corner, and the dog, proud and happy, held out his paw to his master. + +"Now," continued Vitalis, "back to business. I'll give you thirty francs +for him then." + +"No, forty." + +A discussion commenced, but Vitalis soon stopped it by saying: + +"This doesn't interest the child, let him go outside and play." + +At the same time he made a sign to Barberin. + +"Yes, go out into the yard at the back, but don't move or you'll have me +to reckon with." + +I could not but obey. I went into the yard, but I had no heart to play. +I sat down on a big stone and waited. They were deciding what was to +become of me. What would it be? They talked for a long time. I sat +waiting, and it was an hour later when Barberin came out into the yard. +He was alone. Had he come to fetch me to hand me over to Vitalis? + +"Come," he said, "back home." + +Home! Then I was not to leave Mother Barberin? + +I wanted to ask questions, but I was afraid, because he seemed in a +very bad temper. We walked all the way home in silence. But just before +we arrived home Barberin, who was walking ahead, stopped. + +"You know," he said, taking me roughly by the ear, "if you say one +single word of what you have heard to-day, you shall smart for it. +Understand?" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE MATERNAL HOUSE + + +"Well," asked Mother Barberin, when we entered, "what did the mayor +say?" + +"We didn't see him." + +"How! You didn't see him?" + +"No, I met some friends at the Notre-Dame café and when we came out it +was too late. So we'll go back to-morrow." + +So Barberin had given up the idea of driving a bargain with the man with +the dogs. + +On the way home I wondered if this was not some trick of his, returning +to the house, but his last words drove all my doubts away. As we had to +go back to the village the next day to see the mayor, it was certain +that Barberin had not accepted Vitalis' terms. + +But in spite of his threats I would have spoken of my fears to Mother +Barberin if I could have found myself alone for one moment with her, but +all the evening Barberin did not leave the house, and I went to bed +without getting the opportunity. I went to sleep thinking that I would +tell her the next day. But the next day when I got up, I did not see +her. As I was running all round the house looking for her, Barberin saw +me and asked me what I wanted. + +"Mamma." + +"She has gone to the village and won't be back till this afternoon." + +She had not told me the night before that she was going to the village, +and without knowing why, I began to feel anxious. Why didn't she wait +for us, if we were going in the afternoon? Would she be back before we +started? Without knowing quite why, I began to feel very frightened, and +Barberin looked at me in a way that did not tend to reassure me. To +escape from his look I ran into the garden. + +Our garden meant a great deal to us. In it we grew almost all that we +ate--potatoes, cabbages, carrots, turnips. There was no ground wasted, +yet Mother Barberin had given me a little patch all to myself, in which +I had planted ferns and herbs that I had pulled up in the lanes while I +was minding the cow. I had planted everything pell mell, one beside the +other, in my bit of garden: it was not beautiful, but I loved it. It was +mine. I arranged it as I wished, just as I felt at the time, and when I +spoke of it, which happened twenty times a day, it was "My garden." + +Already the jonquils were in bud and the lilac was beginning to shoot, +and the wall flowers would soon be out. How would they bloom? I +wondered, and that was why I came to see them every day. But there was +another part of my garden that I studied with great anxiety. I had +planted a vegetable that some one had given to me and which was almost +unknown in our village; it was Jerusalem artichokes. I was told they +would be delicious, better than potatoes, for they had the taste of +French artichokes, potatoes, and turnips combined. Having been told +this, I intended them to be a surprise for Mother Barberin. I had not +breathed a word about this present I had for her. I planted them in my +own bit of garden. When they began to shoot I would let her think that +they were flowers, then one fine day when they were ripe, while she was +out, I would pull them up and cook them myself. How? I was not quite +sure, but I did not worry over such a small detail; then when she +returned to supper I would serve her a dish of Jerusalem artichokes! It +would be something fresh to replace those everlasting potatoes, and +Mother Barberin would not suffer too much from the sale of poor +Rousette. And the inventor of this new dish of vegetables was I, Remi, I +was the one! So I was of some use in the house. + +With such a plan in my head I had to bestow careful attention on my +Jerusalem artichokes. Every day I looked at the spot where I had planted +them, it seemed to me that they would never grow. I was kneeling on both +knees on the ground, supported on my hands, with my nose almost touching +the earth where the artichokes were sown, when I heard Barberin calling +me impatiently. I hurried back to the house. Imagine my surprise when I +saw, standing before the fireplace, Vitalis and his dogs. + +I knew at once what Barberin wanted of me. Vitalis had come to fetch me +and it was so that Mother Barberin should not stop me from going that +Barberin had sent her to the village. Knowing full well that I could +expect nothing from Barberin, I ran up to Vitalis. + +"Oh, don't take me away. Please, sir, don't take me away." I began to +sob. + +"Now, little chap," he said, kindly enough, "you won't be unhappy with +me. I don't whip children, and you'll have the dogs for company. Why +should you be sorry to go with me?" + +"Mother Barberin!..." + +"Anyhow, you're not going to stay here," said Barberin roughly, taking +me by the ear. "Go with this gentleman or go to the workhouse. Choose!" + +"No, no. Mamma! Mamma!" + +"So, you're going to make me mad, eh!" cried Barberin. "I'll beat you +good and hard and chase you out of the house." + +"The child is sorry to leave his mamma, don't beat him for that. He's +got feelings, that's a good sign." + +"If you pity him he'll cry all the more." + +"Well, now to business." + +Saying that, Vitalis laid eight five franc pieces on the table, which +Barberin with a sweep of his hand cleared up and thrust into his pocket. + +"Where's his bundle?" asked Vitalis. + +"Here it is," said Barberin, handing him a blue cotton handkerchief +tied up at the four corners. "There are two shirts and a pair of cotton +pants." + +"That was not what was agreed; you said you'd give some clothes. These +are only rags." + +"He ain't got no more." + +"If I ask the boy I know he'll say that's not true. But I haven't the +time to argue the matter. We must be off. Come on, my little fellow. +What's your name?" + +"Remi." + +"Well, then, Remi, take your bundle and walk along beside Capi." + +I held out both my hands to him, then to Barberin. But both men turned +away their heads. Then Vitalis took me by the wrist. I had to go. + +Ah, our poor little house! It seemed to me when I passed over the +threshold that I left a bit of my body there. With my eyes full of tears +I looked around, but there was no one near to help me. No one on the +road, and no one in the field close by. I began to call: + +"Mamma ... Mother Barberin!" + +But no one replied to my call, and my voice trailed off into a sob. I +had to follow Vitalis, who had not let go of my wrist. + +"Good-by and good luck," cried Barberin. Then he entered the house. It +was over. + +"Come, Remi, hurry along, my child," said Vitalis. He took hold of my +arm and I walked side by side with him. Fortunately he did not walk +fast. I think he suited his step to mine. + +We were walking up hill. As I turned I could still see Mother +Barberin's house, but it was getting smaller and smaller. Many a time I +had walked this road and I knew that for a little while longer I should +still see the house, then when we turned the bend, I should see it no +more. Before me the unknown, behind me was the house, where until that +day I had lived such a happy life. Perhaps I should never see it again! +Fortunately the hill was long, but at last we reached the top. Vitalis +had not let go his hold. + +"Will you let me rest a bit?" I asked. + +"Surely, my boy," he replied. + +He let go of me, but I saw him make a sign to Capi and the dog +understood. He came close to me. I knew that Capi would grab me by the +leg if I attempted to escape. I went up a high grassy mound and sat +down, the dog beside me. With tear-dimmed eyes I looked about for Mother +Barberin's cottage. Below was the valley and the wood, and away in the +distance stood the little house I had left. Little puffs of yellow smoke +were coming out of the chimney, going straight up in the sky, and then +on towards us. In spite of the distance and the height, I could see +everything very clearly. On the rubbish heap I could see our big fat hen +running about, but she did not look as big as usual; if I had not known +that it was our hen, I should have taken her for a little pigeon. At the +side of the house I could see the twisted pear tree that I used to ride +as a horse. In the stream I could just make out the drain that I had +had so much trouble in digging, so that it would work a mill made by my +own hands; the wheel, alas! had never turned, despite all the hours I +had spent upon it. I could see my garden. Oh, my dear garden!... + +Who would see my flowers bloom? and my Jerusalem artichokes, who would +tend them? Barberin, perhaps, that wicked Barberin! With the next step +my garden would be hidden from me. Suddenly on the road which led to our +house from the village, I saw a white sunbonnet. Then it disappeared +behind some trees, then it came in view again. The distance was so great +that I could only see a white top, like a spring butterfly. It was going +in and out amongst the trees. But there is a time when the heart sees +better and farther than the sharpest eyes. I knew it was Mother +Barberin. It was she. I was sure of it. + +"Well," asked Vitalis, "shall we go on now?" + +"Oh, sir, no, please no." + +"Then it is true what they say, you haven't any legs, tired out already. +That doesn't promise very good days for us." + +I did not reply, I was looking.... + +It _was_ Mother Barberin. It was her bonnet. It was her blue skirt. She +was walking quickly as though she was in a hurry to get home. When she +got to our gate she pushed it open and went quickly up the garden path. +I jumped up at once and stood up on the bank, without giving a thought +to Capi, who sprang towards me. Mother Barberin did not stay long in the +house. She came out and began running to and fro, in the yard, with her +arms stretched out. + +She was looking for me. I leaned forwards and, at the top of my voice, I +cried: + +"Mamma! Mamma!" But my cry could not reach her, it was lost in the air. + +"What's the matter? Have you gone crazy?" asked Vitalis. + +I did not reply; my eyes were still fixed on Mother Barberin. But she +did not look up, for she did not know that I was there above her. She +went round the garden, then out into the road, looking up and down. I +cried louder, but like my first call it was useless. Then Vitalis +understood, and he also came up on the bank. It did not take him long to +see the figure with the white sunbonnet. + +"Poor little chap," he said softly to himself. + +"Oh," I sobbed, encouraged by his words of pity, "do let me go back." +But he took me by the wrist and drew me down and onto the road. + +"As you are now rested," he said, "we'll move on." + +I tried to free myself, but he held me firmly. + +"Capi! Zerbino," he said, looking at the dogs. The two dogs came close +to me; Capi behind, Zerbino in front. After taking a few steps I turned +round. We had passed the bend of the hill and I could no longer see the +valley nor our house. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +EN ROUTE + + +Because a man pays forty francs for a child that is not to say that he +is a monster, and that he intends to eat the child. Vitalis had no +desire to eat me and although he bought children he was not a bad man. I +soon had proof of this. We had been walking in silence for some time. I +heaved a sigh. + +"I know just how you feel," said Vitalis; "cry all you want. But try and +see that this is for your own good. Those people are not your parents; +the wife has been good to you and I know that you love her, that is why +you feel so badly. But she could not keep you if the husband did not +want you. And he may not be such a bad chap after all; he is ill and +can't do any more work. He'll find it hard to get along...." + +Yes, what he said was true, but I had only one thought in my mind, +perhaps I should never again see the one I loved most in the world. + +"You won't be unhappy with me," he continued; "it is better than being +sent to the Home. And let me tell you, you must not try to run away, +because if you do Capi and Zerbino would soon catch you." + +Run away--I no longer thought of doing so. Where should I go? This tall +old man perhaps would be a kind master after all. I had never walked so +far at a stretch. All around us were barren lands and hills, not +beautiful like I had thought the world would be outside of my village. + +Vitalis walked with big regular strides, carrying Pretty-Heart on his +shoulder, or in his bag, and the dogs trotted close to us. From time to +time Vitalis said a word of friendship to them, sometimes in French, +sometimes in a language that I did not understand. Neither he nor the +animals seemed to get tired. But I ... I was exhausted. I dragged my +limbs along and it was as much as I could do to keep up with my new +master. Yet I did not like to ask him to let me stop. + +"It's those wooden shoes that tire you," he said, looking down at me. +"When we get to Ussel, I'll buy you some shoes." + +These words gave me courage. I had always longed for a pair of shoes. +The mayor's son and the inn-keeper's son wore shoes, so that on Sunday +when they came to church they seemed to slide down the stone aisles, +while we other country boys in our clogs made a deafening noise. + +"Is Ussel far?" + +"Ah, that comes from your heart," said Vitalis, laughing. "So you want +to have a pair of shoes, do you? Well, I'll promise you them and with +big nails, too. And I'll buy you some velvet pants, and a vest and a +hat. That'll make you dry your tears, I hope, and give you legs to do +the next six miles." + +Shoes with nails! I was overcome with pride. It was grand enough to +have shoes, but shoes with nails! I forgot my grief. Shoes with nails! +Velvet pants! a vest! a hat! Oh, if Mother Barberin could see me, how +happy she would be, how proud of me! But in spite of the promise that I +should have shoes and velvet pants at the end of the six miles, it +seemed impossible that I could cover the distance. + +The sky, which had been blue when we started, was now filled with gray +clouds and soon a fine rain commenced to fall. Vitalis was covered well +enough with his sheepskin and he was able to shelter Pretty-Heart, who, +at the first drop of rain, had promptly retired into his hiding place. +But the dogs and I had nothing to cover us, and soon we were drenched to +the skin. The dogs from time to time could shake themselves, but I was +unable to employ this natural means, and I had to tramp along under my +water-soaked, heavy garments, which chilled me. + +"Do you catch cold easily?" asked my new master. + +"I don't know. I don't remember ever having a cold." + +"That's good. So there is something in you. But I don't want to have it +worse for you than we are obliged. There is a village a little farther +on and we'll sleep there." + +There was no inn in this village and no one wanted to take into their +homes an old beggar who dragged along with him a child and three dogs, +soaked to the skin. + +"No lodgings here," they said. + +And they shut the door in our faces. We went from one house to another, +but all refused to admit us. Must we tramp those four miles on to Ussel +without resting a bit? The night had fallen and the rain had chilled us +through and through. Oh, for Mother Barberin's house! + +Finally a peasant, more charitable than his neighbors, agreed to let us +go into his barn. But he made the condition that we could sleep there, +but must have no light. + +"Give me your matches," he said to Vitalis. "I'll give you them back +to-morrow, when you go." + +At least we had a roof to cover us from the storm. + +In the sack which Vitalis had slung over his back he took out a hunch of +bread and broke it into four pieces. Then I saw for the first time how +he maintained obedience and discipline in his company. Whilst we had +gone from door to door seeking shelter, Zerbino had gone into a house +and he had run out again almost at once, carrying in his jaws a crust. +Vitalis had only said: + +"Alright, Zerbino ... to-night." + +I had thought no more of this theft, when I saw Vitalis cut the roll; +Zerbino looked very dejected. Vitalis and I were sitting on a box with +Pretty-Heart between us. The three dogs stood in a row before us, Capi +and Dulcie with their eyes fixed on their master. Zerbino stood with +drooping ears and tail between his legs. + +"The thief must leave the ranks and go into a corner," said Vitalis in a +tone of command; "he'll go to sleep without his supper." + +Zerbino left his place, and in a zigzag went over to the corner that +Vitalis indicated with his finger. He crouched down under a heap of hay +out of sight, but we heard him breathe plaintively, with a little whine. + +Vitalis then handed me a piece of bread, and while eating his own he +broke little pieces for Pretty-Heart, Capi and Dulcie. How I longed for +Mother Barberin's soup ... even without butter, and the warm fire, and +my little bed with the coverlets that I pulled right up to my nose. +Completely fagged out, I sat there, my feet raw by the rubbing of my +clogs. I trembled with cold in my wet clothing. It was night now, but I +did not think of going to sleep. + +"Your teeth are chattering," said Vitalis; "are you cold?" + +"A little." + +I heard him open his bag. + +"I haven't got much of a wardrobe," he said, "but here's a dry shirt and +a vest you can put on. Then get underneath the hay and you'll soon get +warm and go to sleep." + +But I did not get warm as quick as Vitalis thought; for a long time I +turned and turned on my bed of straw, too unhappy to sleep. Would all +my days now be like this, walking in the pouring rain; sleeping in a +loft, shaking with cold, and only a piece of dry bread for supper? No +one to love me; no one to cuddle me; no Mother Barberin! + +My heart was very sad. The tears rolled down my cheeks, then I felt a +warm breath pass over my face. I stretched out my hand and my finger +touched Capi's woolly coat. He had come softly to me, stepping +cautiously on the straw, and he smelt me: he sniffed gently, his breath +ran over my cheek and in my hair. What did he want? Presently he laid +down on the straw, quite close to me, and very gently he commenced to +lick my hand. Touched by this caress, I sat up on my straw bed and +throwing my arms round his neck kissed his cold nose. He gave a little +stifled cry, and then quickly put his paw in my hand and remained quite +still. I forgot my fatigue and my sorrows. I was no longer alone. I had +a friend. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MY DÉBUT + + +We started early the next morning. The sky was blue and a light wind had +come up in the night and dried all the mud. The birds were singing +blithely in the trees and the dogs scampered around us. Now and again +Capi stood up on his hind paws and barked into my face, two or three +times. I knew what he meant. He was my friend. He was intelligent, and +he understood every thing, and he knew how to make you understand. In +his tail only was more wit and eloquence than in the tongue or in the +eyes of many people. + +Although I had never left my village and was most curious to see a town, +what I most wanted to see in that town was a boot shop. Where was the +welcome shop where I should find the shoes with nails that Vitalis had +promised me? I glanced about in every direction as we passed down the +old streets of Ussel. Suddenly my master turned into a shop behind the +market. Hanging outside the front were some old guns, a coat trimmed +with gold braid, several lamps, and some rusty keys. We went down three +steps and found ourselves in a large room where the sun could never have +entered since the roof had been put on the house. How could such +beautiful things as nailed shoes be sold in such a terrible place? Yet +Vitalis knew, and soon I had the pleasure of being shod in nailed shoes +which were ten times as heavy as my clogs. My master's generosity did +not stop there. He bought me a blue velvet coat, a pair of trousers, and +a felt hat. + +Velvet for me who had never worn anything but cotton! This was surely +the best man in the world, and the most generous. It is true that the +velvet was creased, and that the woolen trousers were well worn, and it +was difficult to guess what had been the original color of the felt hat, +it had been so soaked with rain; but dazzled by so much finery I was +unconscious of the imperfections which were hidden under their aspect. + +When we got back to the inn, to my sorrow and astonishment, Vitalis took +a pair of scissors and cut the two legs of my trousers to the height of +the knees, before he would let me get into them. I looked at him with +round eyes. + +"That's because I don't want you to look like everybody else," he +explained. "When in France I'll dress you like an Italian; when in +Italy, like a French boy." + +I was still more amazed. + +"We are _artistes_, are we not? Well, we must not dress like the +ordinary folk. If we went about dressed like the country people, do you +think anybody would look at us? Should we get a crowd around us when we +stop? No! Appearances count for a great deal in life." + +I was a French boy in the morning, and by night I had become an Italian. +My trousers reached my knees. Vitalis interlaced red cords all down my +stockings and twisted some red ribbon all over my felt hat, and then +decorated it with a bunch of woolen flowers. + +I don't know what others thought of me, but to be frank I must admit +that I thought I looked superb; and Capi was of the same opinion, for he +stared at me for a long time, then held out his paw with a satisfied +air. I was glad to have Capi's approval, which was all the more +agreeable, because, during the time I had been dressing, Pretty-Heart +had seated himself opposite to me, and with exaggerated airs had +imitated every movement I had made, and when I was finished put his +hands on his hips, threw back his head, and laughed mockingly. + +It is a scientific question as to whether monkeys laugh or not. I lived +on familiar terms with Pretty-Heart for a long time, and I know that he +certainly did laugh and often in a way that was most humiliating to me. +Of course, he did not laugh like a man, but when something amused him, +he would draw back the corners of his mouth, screw up his eyes, and work +his jaws rapidly, while his black eyes seemed to dart flames. + +"Now you're ready," said Vitalis, as I placed my hat on my head, "and +we'll get to work, because to-morrow is market day and we must give a +performance. You must play in a comedy with the two dogs and +Pretty-Heart." + +"But I don't know how to play a comedy," I cried, scared. + +"That is why I am going to teach you. You can't know unless you learn. +These animals have studied hard to learn their part. It has been hard +work for them; but now see how clever they are. The piece we are going +to play is called, 'Mr. Pretty-Heart's Servant, or The Fool is not +Always the One You Would Think.' Now this is it: Mr. Pretty-Heart's +servant, whose name is Capi, is about to leave him because he is getting +old. And Capi has promised his master that before he leaves he will get +him another servant. Now this successor is not to be a dog, it is to be +a boy, a country boy named Remi." + +"Oh...." + +"You have just come from the country to take a position with Mr. +Pretty-Heart." + +"Monkeys don't have servants." + +"In plays they have. Well, you've come straight from your village and +your new master thinks that you're a fool." + +"Oh, I don't like that!" + +"What does that matter if it makes the people laugh? Well, you have come +to this gentleman to be his servant and you are told to set the table. +Here is one like we shall use in the play; go and set it." + +On this table there were plates, a glass, a knife, a fork, and a white +tablecloth. How could I arrange all those things? As I pondered over +this question, leaning forward with hands stretched out and mouth open, +not knowing where to begin, my master clapped his hands and laughed +heartily. + +"Bravo!" he cried, "bravo! that's perfect. The boy I had before put on a +sly expression as much as to say, 'See what a fool I can make of +myself'; you are natural; that is splendid." + +"But I don't know what I have to do." + +"That's why you are so good! After you do know, you will have to pretend +just what you are feeling now. If you can get that same expression and +stand just like you are standing now, you'll be a great success. To play +this part to perfection you have only to act and look as you do at this +moment." + +"Mr. Pretty-Heart's Servant" was not a great play. The performance +lasted not more than twenty minutes. Vitalis made us do it over and over +again, the dogs and I. + +I was surprised to see our master so patient. I had seen the animals in +my village treated with oaths and blows when they could not learn. +Although the lesson lasted a long time, not once did he get angry, not +once did he swear. + +"Now do that over again," he said severely, when a mistake had been +made. "That is bad, Capi. I'll scold you, Pretty-Heart, if you don't pay +attention." + +And that was all, but yet it was enough. + +"Take the dogs for an example," he said, while teaching me; "compare +them with Pretty-Heart. Pretty-Heart has, perhaps, vivacity and +intelligence, but he has no patience. He learns easily what he is +taught, but he forgets it at once; besides he never does what he is told +willingly. He likes to do just the contrary. That is his nature, and +that is why I do not get angry with him; monkeys have not the same +conscience that a dog has; they don't understand the meaning of the word +'duty,' and that is why they are inferior to the dog. Do you understand +that?" + +"I think so." + +"You are intelligent and attentive. Be obedient, do your best in what +you have to do. Remember that all through life." + +Talking to him so, I summoned up courage to ask him about what had so +astonished me during the rehearsal: how could he be so wonderfully +patient with the dogs, the monkey, and myself? + +He smiled. + +"One can see that you have lived only with peasants who are rough with +animals, and think that they can only be made to obey by having a stick +held over their heads. A great mistake. One gains very little by being +cruel, but one can obtain a lot, if not all, by gentleness. It is +because I am never unkind to my animals that they are what they are. If +I had beaten them they would be frightened creatures; fear paralyzes +the intelligence. Besides, if I gave way to temper I should not be what +I am; I could not have acquired this patience which has won their +confidence. That shows that who instructs others, instructs himself. As +I have given lessons to my animals, so I have received lessons from +them. I have developed their intelligence; they have formed my +character." + +I laughed. This seemed strange to me. + +"You find that odd," he continued; "odd that a dog could give a lesson +to a man, yet it is true. The master is obliged to watch over himself +when he undertakes to teach a dog. The dog takes after the master. Show +me your dog and I'll tell you what you are. The criminal has a dog who +is a rogue. The burglar's dog is a thief; the country yokel has a +stupid, unintelligent dog. A kind, thoughtful man has a good dog." + +I was very nervous at the thought of appearing before the public the +next day. The dogs and the monkey had the advantage over me, they had +played before, hundreds of times. What would Vitalis say if I did not +play my part well? What would the audience say? I was so worried that, +when at last I dropped off to sleep, I could see in my dreams a crowd of +people holding their sides with laughter because I was such a fool. + +I was even more nervous the next day, when we marched off in a +procession to the market place, where we were to give our performance. +Vitalis led the way. Holding his head high and with chest thrown out, he +kept time with his arms and feet while gayly playing his fife. Behind +him came Capi, carrying Pretty-Heart on his back, wearing the uniform of +an English general, a red coat and trousers trimmed with gold braid and +helmet topped with a plume. Zerbino and Dulcie came next, at a +respectful distance. I brought up the rear. Our procession took up some +length as we had to walk a certain space apart. The piercing notes of +the fife brought the people running from their houses. Scores of +children ran behind us, and by the time we had reached the square, there +was a great crowd. Our theater was quickly arranged. A rope was fastened +to four trees and in the middle of this square we took our places. + +The first numbers on the program consisted of various tricks performed +by the dogs. I had not the slightest notion what they did. I was so +nervous and taken up in repeating my own part. All that I remember was +that Vitalis put aside his fife and took his violin and played +accompaniments to the dogs' maneuvers; sometimes it was dance music, +sometimes sentimental airs. + +The tricks over, Capi took a metal cup between his teeth and began to go +the round of the "distinguished audience." When a spectator failed to +drop a coin in, he put his two fore paws upon the reluctant giver's +pocket, barked three times, then tapped the pocket with his paw. At +this every one laughed and shouted with delight. + +"If that ain't a cunning spaniel! He knows who's got money and who +hasn't!" + +"Say, out with it!" + +"He'll give something!" + +"Not he!" + +"And his uncle left him a legacy! The stingy cuss!" + +And, finally, a penny was dug out of a deep pocket and thrown into the +cup. During this time, Vitalis, without saying a word, but with his eyes +following Capi, gayly played his violin. Soon Capi returned to his +master, proudly carrying the full cup. + +Now for the comedy. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," said Vitalis, gesticulating with his bow in one +hand and his violin in the other, "we are going to give a delightful +comedy, called 'Mr. Pretty-Heart's Servant, or the Fool is not Always +the One You Would Think.' A man of my standing does not lower himself by +praising his plays and actors in advance. All I have to say is look, +listen, and be ready to applaud." + +What Vitalis called a delightful comedy was really a pantomime; +naturally it had to be for the very good reason that two of its +principals, Pretty-Heart and Capi, could not speak, and the third, +myself, was incapable of uttering two words. However, so that the +audience would clearly understand the play, Vitalis explained the +various situations, as the piece progressed. For instance, striking up a +warlike air, he announced the entrance of General Pretty-Heart, who had +won his high rank in various battles in India. Up to that day General +Pretty-Heart had only had Capi for a servant, but he now wished to have +a human being as his means allowed him this luxury. For a long time +animals had been the slaves of men, but it was time that such was +changed! + +While waiting for the servant to arrive, the General walked up and down, +smoking his cigar. You should see the way he blew the smoke into the +onlookers' faces! Becoming impatient, he began to roll his eyes like a +man who is about to have a fit of temper. He bit his lips, and stamped +on the ground. At the third stamp I had to make my appearance on the +scene, led by Capi. If I had forgotten my part the dog would have +reminded me. At a given moment he held out his paw to me and introduced +me to the General. The latter, upon noticing me, held up his two hands +in despair. What! Was that the servant they had procured for him. Then +he came and looked pertly up into my face, and walked around me, +shrugging his shoulders. His expression was so comical that every one +burst out laughing. They quite understood that the monkey thought I was +a fool. The spectators thought that also. The piece was made to show how +dense was my stupidity, while every opportunity was afforded the monkey +to show his sagacity and intelligence. After having examined me +thoroughly, the General, out of pity, decided to keep me. He pointed to +a table that was already set for luncheon, and signed to me to take my +seat. + +"The General thinks that after his servant has had something to eat he +won't be such an idiot," explained Vitalis. + +I sat down at the little table; a table napkin was placed on my plate. +What was I to do with the napkin? + +Capi made a sign for me to use it. After looking at it thoughtfully for +a moment, I blew my nose. Then the General held his sides with laughter, +and Capi fell over with his four paws up in the air, upset at my +stupidity. + +Seeing that I had made a mistake, I stared again at the table napkin, +wondering what I was to do with it. Then I had an idea. I rolled it up +and made a necktie for myself. More laughter from the General. Another +fall from Capi, his paws in the air. + +Then, finally overcome with exasperation, the General dragged me from +the chair, seated himself at my place, and ate up the meal that had been +prepared for me. + +Ah! he knew how to use a table napkin! How gracefully he tucked it into +his uniform, and spread it out upon his knees. And with what an elegant +air he broke his bread and emptied his glass! + +The climax was reached when, luncheon over, he asked for a toothpick, +which he quickly passed between his teeth. At this, applause broke out +on all sides, and the performance ended triumphantly. + +What a fool of a servant and what a wonderful monkey! + +On our way back to the inn Vitalis complimented me, and I was already +such a good comedian that I appreciated this praise from my master. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +CHILD AND ANIMAL LEARNING + + +Vitalis' small group of actors were certainly very clever, but their +talent was not very versatile. For this reason we were not able to +remain long in the same town. Three days after our arrival in Ussel we +were on our way again. Where were we going? I had grown bold enough to +put this question to my master. + +"Do you know this part of the country?" he asked, looking at me. + +"No." + +"Then why do you ask where we are going?" + +"So as to know." + +"To know what?" + +I was silent. + +"Do you know how to read?" he asked, after looking thoughtfully at me +for a moment. + +"No." + +"Then I'll teach you from a book the names and all about the towns +through which we travel. It will be like having a story told to you." + +I had been brought up in utter ignorance. True, I had been sent to the +village school for one month, but during this month I had never once had +a book in my hand. At the time of which I write, there were many +villages in France that did not even boast of a school, and in some, +where there was a schoolmaster, either he knew nothing, or he had some +other occupation and could give little attention to the children +confided to his care. + +This was the case with the master of our village school. I do not mean +to say that he was ignorant, but during the month that I attended his +school, he did not give us one single lesson. He had something else to +do. By trade he was a shoe-maker, or rather, a clog maker, for no one +bought shoes from him. He sat at his bench all day, shaving pieces of +beech wood into clogs. So I learnt absolutely nothing at school, not +even my alphabet. + +"Is it difficult to read?" I asked, after we had walked some time in +silence. + +"Have you got a hard head?" + +"I don't know, but I'd like to learn if you'll teach me." + +"Well, we'll see about that. We've plenty of time ahead of us." + +Time ahead of us! Why not commence at once? I did not know how difficult +it was to learn to read. I thought that I just had to open a book and, +almost at once, know what it contained. + +The next day, as we were walking along, Vitalis stooped down and picked +up a piece of wood covered with dust. + +"See, this is the book from which you are going to learn to read," he +said. + +A book! A piece of wood! I looked at him to see if he were joking. But +he looked quite serious. I stared at the bit of wood. It was as long as +my arm and as wide as my two hands. There was no inscription or drawing +on it. + +"Wait until we get to those trees down there, where we'll rest," said +Vitalis, smiling at my astonishment. "I'll show you how I'm going to +teach you to read from this." + +When we got to the trees we threw our bags on the ground and sat down on +the green grass with the daisies growing here and there. Pretty-Heart, +having got rid of his chain, sprang up into a tree and shook the +branches one after the other, as though he were making nuts fall. The +dogs lay down beside us. Vitalis took out his knife and, after having +smoothed the wood on both sides, began to cut tiny pieces, twelve all of +equal size. + +"I am going to carve a letter out of each piece of wood," he said, +looking up at me. I had not taken my eyes off of him. "You will learn +these letters from their shapes, and when you are able to tell me what +they are, at first sight, I'll form them into words. When you can read +the words, then you shall learn from a book." + +I soon had my pockets full of little bits of wood, and was not long in +learning the letters of the alphabet, but to know how to read was quite +another thing. I could not get along very fast, and often I regretted +having expressed a wish to learn. I must say, however, it was not +because I was lazy, it was pride. + +While teaching me my letters Vitalis thought that he would teach Capi +at the same time. If a dog could learn to tell the hour from a watch, +why could he not learn the letters? The pieces of wood were all spread +out on the grass, and he was taught that with his paw he must draw out +the letter for which he was asked. + +At first I made more progress than he, but if I had quicker +intelligence, he had better memory. Once he learnt a thing he knew it +always. He did not forget. When I made a mistake Vitalis would say: + +"Capi will learn to read before you, Remi." + +And Capi, evidently understanding, proudly shook his tail. + +I was so hurt that I applied myself to the task with all my heart, and +while the poor dog could get no farther than pulling out the four +letters which spelled his name, I finally learned to read from a book. + +"Now that you know how to read words, how would you like to read music?" +asked Vitalis. + +"If I knew how to read music could I sing like you?" I asked. + +"Ah, so you would like to sing like me," he answered. + +"I know that would be impossible, but I'd like to sing a little." + +"Do you like to hear me sing, then?" + +"I like it more than anything. It is better than the nightingales, but +it's not like their song at all. When you sing, sometimes I want to +cry, and sometimes I want to laugh. Don't think me silly, master, but +when you sing those songs, I think that I am back with dear Mother +Barberin. If I shut my eyes I can see her again in our little house, and +yet I don't know the words you sing, because they are Italian." + +I looked up at him and saw the tears standing in his eyes; then I +stopped and asked him if what I had said hurt him. + +"No, my child," he said, his voice shaking, "you do not pain me; on the +contrary, you take me back to my younger days. Yes, I will teach you to +sing, little Remi, and, as you have a heart, you also will make people +weep with your songs." + +He stopped suddenly, and I felt that he did not wish to say more at that +moment. I did not know the reason why he should feel sad. + +The next day he cut out little pieces of wood for the music notes the +same as he had for the letters. The notes were more complicated than the +alphabet, and this time I found it much harder and more tedious to +learn. Vitalis, so patient with the dogs, more than once lost patience +with me. + +"With an animal," he cried, "one controls oneself, because one is +dealing with a poor dumb creature, but you are enough to drive me mad!" +He threw up his hands dramatically. + +Pretty-Heart, who took special delight in imitating gestures he thought +funny, mimicked my master, and as the monkey was present at my lessons +every day, I had the humiliation to see him lift his arms in despair +every time I hesitated. + +"See, Pretty-Heart is even mocking you," cried Vitalis. + +If I had dared, I would have said that he mocked the master just as much +as the pupil, but respect, as well as a certain fear, forbade me. + +Finally, after many weeks of study, I was able to sing an air from a +piece of paper that Vitalis himself had written. That day my master did +not throw up his hands, but instead, patted me on the cheek, declaring +that if I continued thus I should certainly become a great singer. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ONE WHO HAD KNOWN A KING + + +Our mode of traveling was very simple: We went straight ahead, anywhere, +and when we found a village, which from the distance looked sufficiently +important, we began preparations for a triumphal entry. I dressed the +dogs, and combed Dulcie's hair; stuck a plaster over Capi's eye when he +was playing the part of an old grouchy man, and forced Pretty-Heart into +his General's uniform. That was the most difficult thing I had to do, +for the monkey, who knew well enough that this was a prelude to work for +him, invented the oddest tricks to prevent me from dressing him. Then I +was forced to call Capi to come to my aid, and between the two of us we +finally managed to subdue him. + +The company all dressed, Vitalis took his fife and we went in marching +order into the village. If the number of people who trooped behind us +was sufficient, we gave a performance, but if we had only a few +stragglers, we did not think it worth our while to stop, so continued on +our way. When we stayed several days in a town, Vitalis would let me go +about alone if Capi was with me. He trusted me with Capi. + +"You are traveling through France at the age when most boys are at +school," he once said to me; "open your eyes, look and learn. When you +see something that you do not understand, do not be afraid to ask me +questions. I have not always been what you see me now. I have learnt +many other things." + +"What?" + +"We will speak of that later. For the present listen to my advice, and +when you grow up I hope you will think with a little gratitude of the +poor musician of whom you were so afraid when he took you from your +adopted mother. The change may not be bad for you after all." + +I wondered what my master had been in the days gone by. + +We tramped on until we came to the plains of Quercy, which were very +flat and desolate. There was not a brook, pond, or river to be seen. In +the middle of the plain we came to a small village called Bastide-Murat. +We spent the night in a barn belonging to the inn. + +"It was here in this village," said Vitalis, "and probably in this inn, +that a man was born who led thousands of soldiers to battle and who, +having commenced his life as a stable boy, afterwards became a king. His +name was Murat. They called him a hero, and they named this village +after him. I knew him and often talked with him." + +"When he was a stable boy?" + +"No," replied Vitalis, laughing, "when he was a king. This is the first +time I have been in this part of the country. I knew him in Naples, +where he was king." + +"You have known a king!" + +The tone in which I said this must have been rather comical, for my +master laughed heartily. + +We were seated on a bench before the stable door, our backs against the +wall, which, was still hot from the sun's rays. The locusts were +chanting their monotonous song in a great sycamore which covered us with +its branches. Over the tops of the houses the full moon, which had just +appeared, rose gently in the heavens. The night seemed all the more +beautiful because the day had been scorchingly hot. + +"Do you want to go to bed?" asked Vitalis, "or would you like me to tell +you the story of King Murat?" + +"Oh, tell me the story!" + +Then he told me the story of Joachim Murat; for hours we sat on the +bench. As he talked, the pale light from the moon fell across him, and I +listened in rapt attention, my eyes fixed on his face. I had not heard +this story before. Who would have told me? Not Mother Barberin, surely! +She did not know anything about it. She was born at Chavanon, and would +probably die there. Her mind had never traveled farther than her eyes. + +My master had seen a king, and this king had spoken to him! What was my +master in his youth, and how had he become what I saw him now in his +old age?... + +We had been tramping since morning. Vitalis had said that we should +reach a village by night where we could sleep, but night had come, and I +saw no signs of this village, no smoke in the distance to indicate that +we were near a house. I could see nothing but a stretch of plains ahead +of us. I was tired, and longed to go to sleep. Vitalis was tired also. +He wanted to stop and rest by the roadside, but instead of sitting down +beside him, I told him that I would climb a hill that was on the left of +us and see if I could make out a village. I called Capi, but Capi also +was tired, and turned a deaf ear to my call; this he usually did when he +did not wish to obey me. + +"Are you afraid?" asked Vitalis. + +His question made me start off at once, alone. + +Night had fallen. There was no moon, but the twinkling stars in the sky +threw their light on a misty atmosphere. The various things around me +seemed to take on a strange, weird form in the dim light. Wild furze +grew in bushes beside some huge stones which, towering above me, seemed +as though they turned to look at me. The higher I climbed, the thicker +became the trees and shrubs, their tops passing over my head and +interlacing. Sometimes I had to crawl through them to get by. Yet I was +determined to get to the top of the hill. But, when at last I did, and +gazed around, I could see no light anywhere; nothing but strange shadows +and forms, and great trees which seemed to hold out their branches to +me, like arms ready to enfold me. + +I listened to see if I could catch the bark of a dog, or the bellow of a +cow, but all was silent. With my ear on the alert, scarcely breathing so +as to hear better, I stood quiet for a moment. Then I began to tremble, +the silence of this lonely, uncultivated country frightened me. Of what +was I frightened? The silence probably ... the night ... anyhow, a +nameless fear was creeping over me. My heart beat quickly, as though +some danger was near. I glanced fearfully around me, and then in the +distance I saw a great form moving amongst the trees. At the same time I +could hear the rustling of branches. I tried to tell myself that it was +fear that made me fancy I saw something unusual. Perhaps it was a shrub, +a branch. But then, the branches were moving and there was not a breath +of wind or a breeze that could shake them. They could not move unless +swayed by the breeze or touched by some one. + +Some one? + +No, this great, dark form that was coming towards me could not be a +man--some kind of animal that I did not know, or an immense night bird, +a gigantic spider, hovering over the tops of the trees. What was +certain, this creature had legs of unusual length, which brought it +along with amazing bounds. Seeing this, I quickly found my own legs, and +rushed down the hill towards Vitalis. But, strange to say, I made less +haste going down than I had in climbing up. I threw myself into the +thick of the thistles and brambles, scratching myself at every step. +Scrambling out of a prickly bush I took a glance back. The animal was +coming nearer! It was almost upon me! + +Fortunately, I had reached the bottom of the hill and I could run +quicker across the grass. Although I raced at the top of my speed, the +Thing was gaining upon me. There was no need for me to look behind, I +knew that it was just at the back of me. I could scarcely breathe. My +race had almost exhausted me; my breath came in gasps. I made one final +effort and fell sprawling at Vitalis' feet. I could only repeat two +words: + +"The beast! the beast!" + +Above the loud barking of the dogs, I heard a hearty peal of laughter. +At the same time my master put his hands on my shoulders and forced me +to look round. + +"You goose," he cried, still laughing, "look up and see it." + +His laugh, more than his words, brought me to my senses. I opened one +eye, then the other, and looked where he was pointing. The apparition, +which had so frightened me, had stopped and was standing still in the +road. At the sight of it again, I must confess, I began to shake, but I +was with Vitalis and the dogs were beside me. I was not alone up there +in the trees.... I looked up boldly and fixed my eyes on the Thing. + +Was it an animal or a man? It had the body, the head, and arms like a +man, but the shaggy skin which covered it, and the two long thin legs +upon which it seemed to poise, looked as though they belonged to an +animal. + +Although the night was dark, I could see this, for the silhouette of +this dark form stood out against the starry sky. I should have remained +a long time undecided as to what it was, if my master had not spoken to +it. + +"Can you tell me if we are far from the village?" he asked, politely. + +He was a man, then, if one could speak to him! What was my astonishment +when the animal said that there were no houses near, but an inn to which +he would take us. If he could talk, why did he have paws? + +If I had had the courage, I would have gone up to him to see how his +paws were made, but I was still somewhat afraid, so I picked up my bag +and followed my master, without saying a word. + +"You see now what scared you so," Vitalis said, laughing, as we went on +our way. + +"But I don't know what it is, yet. Are there giants in this part of the +country, then?" + +"Yes, when men are standing on stilts." + +Then he explained to me that the Landais, so as to get over the marshy +plains, and not sink in up to their hips, stride about the country on +stilts. + +What a goose I had been! + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ARRESTED + + +I had a pleasant remembrance of Pau, the beautiful winter resort where +the wind scarcely ever blew. We stayed there the whole winter, for we +were taking in quite a lot of money. Our audience consisted mostly of +children, and they were never tired if we did give the same performance +over and over again. They were children of the rich, mostly English and +American. Fat little boys, with ruddy skins, and pretty little girls +with soft eyes almost as beautiful as Dulcie's. It was from these +children that I got a taste for candy, for they always came with their +pockets stuffed with sweets which they divided between Pretty-Heart, the +dogs, and myself. But when the spring approached our audience grew +smaller. One by one, two by two, the little ones came to shake hands +with Pretty-Heart, Capi, and Dulcie. They had come to say good-by. They +were going away. So we also had to leave the beautiful winter resort and +take up our wandering life again. + +For a long time, I do not know how many days or weeks, we went through +valleys, over hills, leaving behind the bluish top of the Pyrenees, +which now looked like a mass of clouds. + +Then one night we came to a great town with ugly red brick houses and +with streets paved with little pointed stones, hard to the feet of +travelers who had walked a dozen miles a day. My master told me that we +were in Toulouse and that we should stay there for a long time. As +usual, the first thing we did was to look about for a suitable place to +hold the next day's performance. Suitable places were not lacking, +especially near the Botanical Gardens, where there is a beautiful lawn +shaded with big trees and a wide avenue leading to it. It was in one of +the side walks that we gave our first performance. + +A policeman stood by while we arranged our things. He seemed annoyed, +either because he did not like dogs, or because he thought we had no +business there; he tried to send us away. It would have been better if +we had gone. We were not strong enough to hold out against the police, +but my master did not think so. Although he was an old man, strolling +about the country with his dogs, he was very proud. He considered that +as he was not breaking the law, he should have police protection, so +when the officer wanted to send us away, he refused to leave. + +Vitalis was very polite; in fact he carried his Italian politeness to +the extreme. One might have thought that he was addressing some high and +mighty personage. + +"The illustrious gentleman, who represents the police authority," he +said, taking off his hat and bowing low to the policeman, "can he show +me an order emanating from the said authority, which states that it is +forbidden for poor strolling players, like ourselves, to carry on their +humble profession on a public square?" + +The policeman replied that he would have no argument. We must obey. + +"Certainly," replied Vitalis, "and I promise that I will do as you order +as soon as you let me know by what authority you issue it." + +That day the officer turned on his heels, and my master, with hat in +hand, body bent low, smilingly bowed to the retreating form. + +But the next day the representative of the law returned, and jumping +over the ropes which inclosed our theater, he sprang into the middle of +the performance. + +"Muzzle those dogs," he said roughly to Vitalis. + +"Muzzle my dogs!" + +"It's an order of the law, you ought to know that!" + +The spectators began to protest. + +"Don't interrupt!" + +"Let him finish the show, cop!" + +Vitalis then took off his felt hat, and with his plumes sweeping the +ground, he made three stately bows to the officer. + +"The illustrious gentleman representing the law, does he tell me that I +must muzzle my actors?" he asked. + +"Yes, and be quick about it!" + +"Muzzle Capi, Zerbino, and Dulcie," cried Vitalis, addressing himself +more to the audience than to the officer; "how can the great physician, +Capi, known throughout the universe, prescribe a cure for Mr. +Pretty-Heart, if the said physician wears a muzzle on the end of his +nose?" + +The children and parents began to laugh. Vitalis encouraged by the +applause, continued: + +"And how can the charming nurse, Dulcie, use her eloquence to persuade +the patient to take the horrible medicine which is to relieve him of his +pains if I am forced to carry out this cruel order of the law? I ask the +audience if this is fair?" + +The clapping of hands and shouts of laughter from the onlookers was +answer enough. They cheered Vitalis and hooted the policeman and, above +all, they were amused at the grimaces Pretty-Heart was making. He had +taken his place behind the "illustrious gentleman who represented the +law," and was making ridiculous grimaces behind his back. The officer +crossed his arms, then uncrossed them and stuck his fists on his hips +and threw back his head, so did the monkey. The onlookers screamed with +laughter. + +The officer turned round suddenly to see what amused them, and saw the +monkey striking his own attitude to perfection. For some moments the +monkey and the man stared at each other. It was a question which would +lower his eyes first. The crowd yelled with delight. + +"If your dogs are not muzzled to-morrow," cried the policeman, angrily +shaking his first, "you'll be arrested. That's all." + +"Good-day, until to-morrow, Signor," said Vitalis, bowing, "until +to-morrow...." + +As the officer strode away, Vitalis stood with his body almost bent to +the ground in mock respect. + +I thought that he would buy some muzzles for the dogs, but he did +nothing of the kind, and the evening passed without him even mentioning +his quarrel with the policeman. I decided at last to broach the subject +myself. + +"If you don't want Capi to tear off his muzzle to-morrow during the +performance," I said, "I think it would be a good thing to put it on him +beforehand, and let him get used to it. We can teach him that he must +keep it on." + +"You think I am going to put one of those things on their little noses?" + +"The officer is down on us." + +"You are only a country boy. Like all peasants you are afraid of a +policeman. + +"Don't worry," he added, "I'll have matters arranged to-morrow so that +the policeman can't have me arrested, and at the same time so that the +dogs won't be uncomfortable. On the other hand, the public shall be +amused a bit. This officer should be the means of bringing us some more +money and, in the bargain, play the comic rôle in the piece that I shall +prepare for him. Now, to-morrow, you are to go there alone with +Pretty-Heart. You will arrange the ropes, and play a few pieces on your +harp, and when you have a large audience the officer will arrive on the +scene. I will make my appearance with the dogs. Then the farce will +commence." + +I did not at all like going alone the next day, but I knew that my +master must be obeyed. + +As soon as I got to our usual place I roped off an inclosure and +commenced to play. The people came from all parts and crowded outside +the ropes. By now I had learnt to play the harp and sing very well. +Amongst other songs, I had learnt a Neapolitan _canzonetta_ which was +always greatly applauded. But to-day I knew that the crowd had not come +to pay tribute to my talent. All who had witnessed the dispute with the +officer the day before were present, and had brought their friends with +them. The police are not liked at Toulouse, and the public were curious +to see how the old Italian would come out, and what significance was +attached to his parting words, "Until to-morrow, Signor." Several of the +spectators, seeing me alone with Pretty-Heart, interrupted my song to +ask if the "old Italian" was coming. + +I nodded. The policeman arrived. Pretty-Heart saw him first. He at once +put his clenched hands on his hips and began trotting around in a +ridiculously important manner. The crowd laughed at his antics and +clapped their hands. The officer glared at me angrily. + +How was it going to end? I was rather ill at ease. If Vitalis were there +he could reply to the officer. But I was alone. If he ordered me away, +what should I say? + +The policeman strode back and forth outside the ropes, and when he +passed near me, he had a way of looking at me over his shoulder that did +not reassure me. + +Pretty-Heart did not understand the seriousness of the situation, so he +gleefully strutted along inside the ropes, side by side with the +officer, mimicking his every movement. As he passed me, he also looked +at me over his shoulder in such a comical manner that the people laughed +still louder. + +I thought the matter had gone far enough, so I called Pretty-Heart, but +he was in no mood to obey, and continued his walk, running and dodging +me when I tried to catch him. I don't know how it happened, but the +policeman, probably mad with rage, thought that I was encouraging the +monkey, for he quickly jumped the ropes. In a moment he was upon me, and +had knocked me to the ground with one blow. When I opened my eyes and +got to my feet Vitalis, who had sprung from I don't know where, stood +before me. He had just seized the policeman's wrist. + +"I forbid you to strike that child," he cried, "what a cowardly thing to +do!" + +For some moments the two men looked at each other. The officer was +purple with rage. My master was superb. He held his beautiful white head +high; his face expressed indignation and command. His look was enough to +make the policeman sink into the earth, but he did nothing of the kind. +He wrenched his hand free, seized my master by the collar and roughly +pushed him before him. Vitalis stumbled and almost fell, but he drew +himself up quickly and with his free hand struck the officer on the +wrist. My master was a strong man, but still he was an old man, and the +policeman was young and robust. I saw how a struggle would end. But +there was no struggle. + +"You come along with me," said the officer, "you're under arrest." + +"Why did you strike that child?" demanded Vitalis. + +"No talk. Follow me." + +Vitalis did not reply, but turned round to me. + +"Go back to the inn," he said, "and stay there with the dogs. I'll send +word to you." + +He had no chance to say more, for the officer dragged him off. So ended +the performance that my poor master had wanted to make amusing. The dogs +at first had followed their master, but I called them back, and +accustomed to obey, they returned to me. I noticed that they were +muzzled, but instead of their faces being inclosed in the usual +dog-muzzle, they simply wore a pretty piece of silk fastened round their +noses and tied under their chins. Capi, who was white, wore red; +Zerbino, who was black, wore white, and Dulcie, who was gray, wore blue. +My poor master had thus carried out the order of the law. + +The public had quickly dispersed. A few stragglers remained to discuss +what had happened. + +"The old man was right." + +"He was wrong." + +"Why did the cop strike the boy? He did nothing to him; never said a +word." + +"Bad business. The old fellow will go to jail, for sure!" + +I went back to the inn, depressed. I had grown very fond of my master, +more and more every day. We lived the same life together from morning +till night, and often from night to morning, when we had to sleep on the +same bed of straw. No father could have shown more care for his child +than he showed for me. He had taught me to read, to sing, and to write. +During our long tramps he gave me lessons, first on one subject then on +another. On very cold days he shared his coverings with me, on hot days +he had always helped me carry the bags, and the various things which I +was supposed to carry. And when we ate he never served me the worst +piece, keeping the best for himself; on the contrary, he shared it +equally, the good and the bad. It is true, he sometimes pulled my ears +more roughly than I liked, but if I needed the correction, what of that? +In a word, I loved him, and he loved me. For how long would they send +him to prison? What should I do during that time? How should I live? + +Vitalis was in the habit of carrying his money on him, and he had not +had time to give me anything before he was dragged off. I had only a +few sous in my pocket. Would it be enough to buy food for Pretty-Heart, +the dogs, and myself? I spent the next two days in agony, not daring to +leave the inn. The monkey and the dogs were also very downcast. At last, +on the third day, a man brought me a letter from him. Vitalis wrote me +that on the following Saturday he was to be tried for resisting police +authority, and for attacking an officer. + +"I was wrong to get into a temper," he wrote. "This may cost me dearly, +but it is too late now. Come to the court, you will learn a lesson." +Then he gave me some advice, and sent his love to me, telling me to +caress the animals for him. + +While I was reading the letter, Capi, standing between my feet, put his +nose to the paper, and sniffed it. I could see by the way he wagged his +tail that he knew it had come from his master. This was the first time +in three days that he had showed any signs of joy. + +I got to the court early on Saturday morning. Many of the people who had +witnessed the scene with the policeman were present. I was so scared at +being in court, that I got behind a large stove and squeezed up as small +as I could against the wall. Some men who had been arrested for robbery, +others for fighting, were tried first. All said that they were innocent, +but all were found guilty. At last Vitalis was brought in. He sat down +on a bench between two policemen. What he said at first, and what they +asked him, I scarcely knew, my emotion was so great. I stared at +Vitalis; he stood upright, his white head thrown back. He looked ashamed +and worried. I looked at the judge. + +"You gave blows to the officer who arrested you," said the judge. + +"Not blows, your Honor," said Vitalis, "I only struck once. When I got +to the place where we were to give our performance, I was just in time +to see the officer fell a child to the ground with a blow, the little +boy who is with me." + +"The child is not yours." + +"No, but I love him as my own son. When I saw him struck I lost my +temper and seized the policeman's arm so that he could not strike +again." + +"You struck him?" + +"When he laid his hands on me I thought of him only as a man, not as a +police officer." + +The officer then said what he had to say. + +Vitalis' eyes roamed around the room. I knew that he was looking to see +if I were there, so I decided to come out of my hiding place, and +elbowing through the crowd of people, I came and stood beside him. His +face lit up when he saw me. Presently, the trial ended. He was sentenced +to two months' imprisonment and a fine of one hundred francs. Two +months' prison! The door through which Vitalis had entered was opened. +Through my tears I saw him follow a policeman, and the door closed +behind him. Two months' separation! + +Where should I go? + + + + +CHAPTER X + +HOMELESS + + +When I returned to the inn with heavy heart and red eyes, the landlord +was standing in the yard. I was going to pass him to get to my dogs, but +he stopped me. + +"Well, what about your master?" he asked. + +"He is sentenced." + +"How long?" + +"Two months' prison." + +"How much fine?" + +"One hundred francs." + +"Two months ... one hundred francs," he repeated two or three times. + +I wanted to go on, but again he stopped me. + +"What are you going to do these two months?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +"Oh, you don't know. You've got some money to live on and to buy food +for your animals, I suppose." + +"No, sir." + +"Then do you count on me keeping you?" + +"No, sir, I don't count on any one." + +That was true. I did not count upon any one. + +"Your master already owes me a lot of money," he continued. "I can't +board you for two months without knowing if I shall be paid. You'll +have to go." + +"Go! Where shall I go, sir?" + +"That's not my business. I'm nothing to you. Why should I keep you?" + +For a moment I was dazed. The man was right. Why should he give me +shelter? + +"Come, take your dogs and monkey and get out! Of course, you must leave +your master's bag with me. When he comes out of jail, he'll come here to +get it, and then he can settle his account." + +An idea came to me. + +"As you know he will settle his bill then, can't you keep me until then, +and add what I cost to it?" + +"Ah, ah! Your master might be able to pay for two days' lodging, but two +months! that's a different thing." + +"I'll eat as little as you wish." + +"And your dogs and monkey! No, be off! You'll pick up enough in the +villages." + +"But, sir, how will my master find me when he comes out of prison? He'll +come to look for me here." + +"All you've got to do is to come back on that day." + +"And if he writes to me?" + +"I'll keep the letter." + +"But if I don't answer him?..." + +"Oh, stop your talk. Hurry up and get out! I give you five minutes. If I +find you here when I come out again I'll settle you." + +I knew it was useless to plead with him. I had to "get out." I went to +the stables to get the dogs and Pretty-Heart, then strapping my harp on +my shoulder I left the inn. + +I was in a hurry to get out of town, for my dogs were not muzzled. What +should I say if I met a policeman? That I had no money? It was the +truth; I had only eleven sous in my pocket. That was not enough to buy +muzzles. They might arrest me. If Vitalis and I were both in prison, +whatever would become of the animals? I felt the responsibility of my +position. + +As I walked along quickly the dogs looked up at me in a way I could not +fail to understand. They were hungry. Pretty-Heart, whom I carried, +pulled my ear from time to time to force me to look at him. Then he +rubbed his stomach in a manner that was no less expressive than the +looks the dogs cast at me. I also was hungry. We had had no breakfast. +My eleven sous could not buy enough for dinner and supper, so we should +have to be satisfied with one meal, which, if we took it in the middle +of the day, would serve us for two. + +I wandered along. I did not care where I went; it was all the same to +me, for I did not know the country. The question of finding a place in +which to sleep did not worry me; we could sleep in the open air.... But +to eat! + +We must have walked for about two hours before I dared to stop, and yet +the dogs had looked up at me imploringly and Pretty-Heart had pulled my +ear and rubbed his stomach incessantly. At last I felt that I was far +enough away from the town to have nothing to fear. I went into the first +bakery that I came across. I asked for one pound and a half of bread. + +"You'd do well to take a two-pound loaf," said the woman. "That's not +too much for your menagerie. You must feed the poor dogs." + +Oh, no, it was not too much for my menagerie, but it was too much for my +purse. The bread was five sous a pound; two pounds would cost ten sous. +I did not think it wise to be extravagant before knowing what I was +going to do the next day. I told the woman in an offhand manner that one +pound and a half was quite enough and politely asked her not to cut +more. I left the shop with my bread clutched tightly in my arms. The +dogs jumped joyfully around me. Pretty-Heart pulled my hair and chuckled +with glee. + +We did not go far. At the first tree that we saw I placed my harp +against the trunk and sat down on the grass. The dogs sat opposite me, +Capi in the middle, Dulcie at one side, Zerbino on the other. +Pretty-Heart, who was not tired, stood up on the watch, ready to snatch +the first piece that he could. To eke out the meal was a delicate +matter. I cut the bread into five parts, as near the same size as +possible, and distributed the slices. I gave each a piece in turn, as +though I were dealing cards. Pretty-Heart, who required less food than +we, fared better, for he was quite satisfied while we were still +famished. I took three pieces from his share and hid them in my bag to +give the dogs later. Then, as there still remained a little piece, I +broke it and we each had some; that was for dessert. + +After the meal I felt that the moment had come for me to say a few words +to my companions. Although I was their chief, I did not feel that I was +too much above them not to wish them to take part in the grave situation +in which we found ourselves. + +Capi had probably guessed my intentions, for he sat with his big, +intelligent eyes fixed on me. + +"Yes, Capi," I said, "and you, Dulcie, Zerbino and Pretty-Heart, my +friends, I've bad news for you. We shan't see our master for two whole +months." + +"Ouah," barked Capi. + +"It's bad for him and it's also bad for us, for we depend on him for +everything, and now he's gone, we haven't any money." + +At the mention of the word money, which he perfectly understood, Capi +rose on his hind paws and commenced to trot round as though he were +collecting money from the "distinguished audience." + +"I see you want to give a performance, Capi," I continued; "that's good +advice, but should we make anything? That's the question. We have only +three sous left, so you mustn't get hungry. You've all to be very +obedient; that will make it easier for us all. You must help me all you +can, you dogs and Pretty-Heart. I want to feel that I can count on you." + +I would not make so bold as to say that they understood all I said, but +they got the general idea. They knew by our master's absence that +something serious had happened, and they had expected an explanation +from me. If they did not understand all that I said to them, they were +at least satisfied that I had their welfare at heart, and they showed +their satisfaction by the attention they gave me. + +Attention? Yes, on the part of the dogs only. It was impossible for +Pretty-Heart to keep still for long. He could not fix his mind upon one +subject for more than a minute. During the first part of my discourse he +had listened to me with the greatest interest, but before I had said +twenty words, he had sprung up into a tree, the branches of which hung +over our heads, and was now swinging himself from branch to branch. If +Capi had insulted me in like manner, my pride would certainly have been +hurt; but I was never astonished at anything Pretty-Heart might do. He +was so empty-headed. But after all, it was quite natural that he should +want to have a little fun. I admit that I would liked to have done the +same. I would have gone up that tree with pleasure, but the importance +and dignity of my present office did not permit me any such +distractions. + +After we had rested a while I gave the sign to start. We had to find a +place somewhere to lie down for the night and gain a few sous for our +food for the next day. We walked for one hour, then came in sight of a +village. I quickly dressed my troop, and in as good marching order as +possible we made our entry. Unfortunately, we had no fife and we lacked +Vitalis' fine, commanding presence. Like a drum major, he always +attracted the eye. I had not the advantage of being tall, nor was I +possessed of a wonderful head. Quite the reverse, I was small and thin +and I must have worn a very anxious look. While marching I glanced to +the right and to the left to see what effect we were producing. Very +little, I regret to say. No one followed us. Upon reaching the small +square upon which was a fountain shaded with trees, I took my harp and +commenced to play a waltz. The music was gay, my fingers were light, but +my heart was heavy. + +I told Zerbino and Dulcie to waltz together. They obeyed me at once and +commenced to whirl round, keeping time. But no one put themselves out to +come and see us, and yet in the doorways I saw several women knitting +and talking. I continued to play, Zerbino and Dulcie went on with their +waltz. Perhaps if one decided to come over to us, a second would come, +then more and more. + +I played on and on, Zerbino and Dulcie went round and round, but the +women in the doorways did not even look over at us. It was discouraging. +But I was determined not to be discouraged. I played with all my might, +making the cords of my harp vibrate, almost to breaking them. Suddenly a +little child, taking its first steps, trotted from his home and came +towards us. No doubt the mother would follow him, and after the mother a +friend would come, and we should have an audience, and then a little +money. + +I played more softly so as not to frighten the baby, and also to entice +him to come nearer. With hands held out and swaying first on one foot, +then on the other, he came on slowly. A few steps more and he would have +reached us, but at that moment the mother looked round. She saw her baby +at once. But instead of running after him as I had thought she would, +she called to him, and the child obediently turned round and went back +to her. Perhaps these people did not like dance music; it was quite +possible. + +I told Zerbino and Dulcie to lie down, and I began to sing my +_canzonetta_. Never did I try so hard to please. + +I had reached the end of the second line, when I saw a man in a round +jacket, and I felt that he was coming towards me. At last! I tried to +sing with even more fervor. + +"Hello, what are you doing here, young rogue?" he cried. + +I stopped, amazed at his words, and watched him coming nearer, with my +mouth open. + +"What are you doing here, I say?" + +"Singing, sir." + +"Have you got permission to sing on a public square in our village?" + +"No, sir." + +"Well, be off; if you don't I'll have you arrested." + +"But, sir...." + +"Be off, you little beggar." + +I knew from my poor master's example what it would cost me if I went +against the town authorities. I did not make him repeat his order; I +hurried off. + +Beggar! That was not fair. I had not begged; I had sung. In five minutes +I had left behind me this inhospitable, but well guarded, village. My +dogs followed me with their heads lowered, and their tails between their +legs. They certainly knew that some bad luck had befallen us. Capi, from +time to time, went ahead of us and turned round to look at me +questioningly with his intelligent eyes. Any one else in his place would +have questioned me, but Capi was too well bred to be indiscreet. I saw +his lip tremble in the effort he made to keep back his protests. + +When we were far enough away from the village, I signed to them to stop, +and the three dogs made a circle round me, Capi in the middle, his eyes +on mine. + +"As we had no permission to play, they sent us away," I explained. + +"Well, then?" asked Capi, with a wag of his head. + +"So then we shall have to sleep in the open air and go without supper." + +At the word "supper" there was a general bark. I showed them my three +sous. + +"You know that is all we have. If we spend those three sous to-night, we +shall have nothing left for breakfast to-morrow. So, as we have had +something to-day, it is better to save this." And I put my three sous +back in my pocket. + +Capi and Dulcie bent their heads resignedly, but Zerbino, who was not so +good, and who besides was a gourmand, continued to growl. I looked at +him severely. + +"Capi, explain to Zerbino, he doesn't seem to understand," I said to +faithful _Capitano_. + +Capi at once tapped Zerbino with his paw. It seemed as though an +argument was taking place between the two dogs. One may find the word +argument too much, when applied to dogs, but animals certainly have a +peculiar language of their kind. As to dogs, they not only know how to +speak, they know how to read. Look at them with their noses in the air +or, with lowered head, sniffing at the ground, smelling the bushes and +stones. Suddenly they'll stop before a clump of grass, or a wall, and +remain on the alert for a moment. We see nothing on the wall, but the +dog reads all sorts of curious things written in mysterious letters +which we do not understand. + +What Capi said to Zerbino I did not hear, for if dogs can understand the +language of men, men do not understand their language. I only saw that +Zerbino refused to listen to reason, and that he insisted that the three +sous should be spent immediately. Capi got angry, and it was only when +he showed his teeth that Zerbino, who was a bit of a coward, lapsed into +silence. The word "silence" is also used advisedly. I mean by silence +that he laid down. + +The weather was beautiful, so that to sleep in the open air was not a +serious matter. The only thing was to keep out of the way of the wolves, +if there were any in this part of the country. + +We walked straight ahead on the white road until we found a place. We +had reached a wood. Here and there were great blocks of granite. The +place was very mournful and lonely, but there was no better, and I +thought that we might find shelter from the damp night air amongst the +granite. When I say "we," I mean Pretty-Heart and myself, for the dogs +would not catch cold sleeping out of doors. I had to be careful of +myself, for I knew how heavy was my responsibility. What would become of +us all if I fell ill, and what would become of me if I had Pretty-Heart +to nurse? + +We found a sort of grotto between the stones, strewn with dried leaves. +This was very nice. All that was lacking was something to eat. I tried +not to think that we were hungry. Does not the proverb say, "He who +sleeps, eats." + +Before lying down I told Capi that I relied upon him to keep watch, and +the faithful dog, instead of sleeping with us on the pine leaves, laid +down like a sentinel at the entrance of our quarters. I could sleep in +peace, for I knew that none would come near without me being warned by +Capi. Yet, although, at rest on this point, I could not sleep at once. +Pretty-Heart was asleep beside me, wrapped up in my coat; Zerbino and +Dulcie were stretched at my feet. But my anxiety was greater than my +fatigue. + +This first day had been bad; what would the next day be? I was hungry +and thirsty, and yet I only had three sous. How could I buy food for all +if I did not earn something the next day? And the muzzles? And the +permission to sing? Oh, what was to be done! Perhaps we should all die +of hunger in the bushes. While turning over these questions in my mind, +I looked up at the stars, which shone in the dark sky. There was not a +breath of wind. Silence everywhere. Not the rustle of a leaf or the cry +of a bird, nor the rumble of a cart on the road. As far as my eye could +see, stretched space. How alone we were; how abandoned! The tears filled +my eyes. Poor Mother Barberin! poor Vitalis. + +I was lying on my stomach, crying into my hands, when suddenly I felt a +breath pass through my hair. I turned over quickly, and a big soft +tongue licked my wet cheek. It was Capi who had heard me crying and had +come to comfort me as he had done on the first day of my wanderings. +With my two hands I took him by the neck and kissed him on his wet +nose. He uttered two or three little mournful snorts, and it seemed to +me that he was crying with me. I slept. When I awoke it was full day and +Capi was sitting beside me, looking at me. The birds were singing in the +trees. In the distance I could hear a church bell ringing the Angelus, +the morning prayer. The sun was already high in the sky, throwing its +bright rays down to comfort heart and body. + +We started off, going in the direction of the village where we should +surely find a baker: when one goes to bed without dinner or supper one +is hungry early in the morning. I made up my mind to spend the three +sous, and after that we would see what would happen. + +Upon arriving in the village there was no need for me to ask where the +baker lived; our noses guided us straight to the shop. My sense of smell +was now as keen as that of my dogs. From the distance I sniffed the +delicious odor of hot bread. We could not get much for three sous, when +it costs five sous a pound. Each of us had but a little piece, so our +breakfast was soon over. + +We _had_ to make money that day. I walked through the village to find a +favorable place for a performance, and also to note the expressions of +the people, to try and guess if they were enemies or friends. My +intention was not to give the performance at once. It was too early, but +after finding a place we would come back in the middle of the day and +take a chance. + +I was engrossed with this idea, when suddenly I heard some one shouting +behind me. I turned round quickly and saw Zerbino racing towards me, +followed by an old woman. It did not take me long to know what was the +matter. Profiting by my preoccupation, Zerbino had run into a house and +stolen a piece of meat. He was racing alone, carrying his booty in his +jaws. + +"Thief! thief!" cried the old woman; "catch him! Catch all of 'em!" + +When I heard her say this, I felt that somehow I was guilty, or at +least, that I was responsible for Zerbino's crime, so I began to run. +What could I say to the old woman if she demanded the price of the +stolen meat? How could I pay her? If we were arrested they would put us +in prison. Seeing me flying down the road, Dulcie and Capi were not long +following my example; they were at my heels, while Pretty-Heart, whom I +carried on my shoulder, clung round my neck so as not to fall. + +Some one else cried: "Stop thief!" and others joined in the chase. But +we raced on. Fear gave us speed. I never saw Dulcie run so fast; her +feet barely touched the ground. Down a side street and across a field we +went, and soon we had outstripped our pursuers, but I did not stop +running until I was quite out of breath. We had raced at least two +miles. I turned round. No one was following us. Capi and Dulcie were +still at my heels, Zerbino was in the distance. He had stopped probably +to eat his piece of meat. I called him, but he knew very well that he +deserved a severe punishment, so instead of coming to me, he ran away as +fast as he could. He was famished, that was why he had stolen the meat. +But I could not accept this as an excuse. He had stolen. If I wanted to +preserve discipline in my troop, the guilty one must be punished. If +not, in the next village Dulcie would do the same, and then Capi would +succumb to the temptation. I should have to punish Zerbino publicly. But +in order to do that I should have to catch him, and that was not an easy +thing to do. + +I turned to Capi. + +"Go and find Zerbino," I said gravely. + +He started off at once to do what I told him, but it seemed to me that +he went with less ardor than usual. From the look that he gave me, I saw +that he would far rather champion Zerbino than be my envoy. I sat down +to await his return with the prisoner. I was pleased to get a rest after +our mad race. When we stopped running we had reached the bank of a canal +with shady trees and fields on either side. + +An hour passed. The dogs had not returned. I was beginning to feel +anxious when at last Capi appeared alone, his head hanging down. + +"Where is Zerbino?" + +Capi laid down in a cowed attitude. I looked at him and noticed that one +of his ears was bleeding. I knew what had happened. Zerbino had put up a +fight. I felt that, although Capi had obeyed my orders, he had +considered that I was too severe and had let himself be beaten. I could +not scold him. I could only wait until Zerbino chose to return. I knew +that sooner or later he would feel sorry and would come back and take +his punishment. + +I stretched myself out under a tree, holding Pretty-Heart tight for fear +he should take it into his head to join Zerbino. Dulcie and Capi slept +at my feet. Time passed. Zerbino did not appear. At last I also dropped +off to sleep. + +Several hours had passed when I awoke. By the sun I could tell that it +was getting late, but there was no need for the sun to tell me that. My +stomach cried out that it was a long time since I had eaten that piece +of bread. And I could tell from the looks of the two dogs and +Pretty-Heart that they were famished. Capi and Dulcie fixed their eyes +on me piteously; Pretty-Heart made grimaces. But still Zerbino had not +come back. I called to him, I whistled, but in vain. Having well lunched +he was probably digesting his meal, cuddled up in a bush. + +The situation was becoming serious. If I left this spot, Zerbino perhaps +would get lost, for he might not be able to find us; then if I stayed, +there was no chance of me making a little money to buy something to eat. +Our hunger became more acute. The dogs fixed their eyes on me +imploringly, and Pretty-Heart rubbed his stomach and squealed angrily. + +Still Zerbino did not return. Once more I sent Capi to look for the +truant, but at the end of half an hour he came back alone. What was to +be done? + +Although Zerbino was guilty, and through his fault we were put into this +terrible position, I could not forsake him. What would my master say if +I did not take his three dogs back to him? And then, in spite of all, I +loved Zerbino, the rogue! I decided to wait until evening, but it was +impossible to remain inactive. If we were doing something I thought we +might not feel the pangs of hunger so keenly. If I could invent +something to distract us, we might, for the time being, forget that we +were so famished. What could we do? + +I pondered over the question. Then I remembered that Vitalis had told me +that when a regiment was tired out by a long march, the band played the +gayest airs so that the soldiers should forget their fatigue. If I +played some gay pieces on my harp, perhaps we could forget our hunger. +We were all so faint and sick, yet if I played something lively and made +the two poor dogs dance with Pretty-Heart the time might pass quicker. I +took my instrument, which I had placed up against a tree and, turning my +back to the canal I put my animals in position and began to play a +dance. + +At first neither the dogs nor the monkey seemed disposed to dance. All +they wanted was food. My heart ached as I watched their pitiful +attitude. But they must forget their hunger, poor little things! I +played louder and quicker, then, little by little, the music produced +its customary effect. They danced and I played on and on. + +Suddenly I heard a clear voice, a child's voice, call out: "Bravo." The +voice came from behind me. I turned round quickly. + +A barge had stopped on the canal. The two horses which dragged the boat +were standing on the opposite bank. It was a strange barge. I had never +seen one like it. It was much shorter than the other boats on the canal, +and the deck was fashioned like a beautiful veranda, covered with plants +and foliage. I could see two people, a lady, who was still young, with a +beautiful sad face, and a boy about my own age, who seemed to be lying +down. It was evidently the little boy who had called out "Bravo!" + +I was very surprised at seeing them. I lifted my hat to thank them for +their applause. + +"Are you playing for your own pleasure?" asked the lady, speaking French +with a foreign accent. + +"I am keeping the dogs in practice and also ... it diverts their +attention." + +The child said something. The lady bent over him. + +"Will you play again?" she then asked, turning round to me. + +Would I play? Play for an audience who had arrived at such a moment! I +did not wait to be asked twice. + +"Would you like a dance or a little comedy?" I asked. + +"Oh, a comedy," cried the child. But the lady said she preferred a +dance. + +"A dance is too short," said the boy. + +"If the 'distinguished audience' wishes, after the dance, we will +perform our different rôles." + +This was one of my master's fine phrases. I tried to say it in the same +grand manner as he. Upon second thought, I was not sorry that the lady +did not wish for a comedy, for I don't see how I could have given a +performance; not only was Zerbino absent, but I had none of the "stage +fittings" with me. + +I played the first bars of a waltz. Capi took Dulcie by the waist with +his two paws and they whirled round, keeping good time. Then +Pretty-Heart danced alone. Successively, we went through all our +repertoire. We did not feel tired now. The poor little creatures knew +that they would be repaid with a meal and they did their best. I also. + +Then, suddenly, in the midst of a dance in which all were taking part, +Zerbino came out from behind a bush, and as Capi and Dulcie and +Pretty-Heart passed near him, he boldly took his place amongst them. + +While playing and watching my actors, I glanced from time to time at +the little boy. He seemed to take great pleasure in what we were doing, +but he did not move. He looked as though he was lying on a stretcher. +The boat had drifted right to the edge of the bank, and now I could see +the boy plainly. He had fair hair. His face was pale, so white that one +could see the blue veins on his forehead. He had the drawn face of a +sick child. + +"How much do you charge for seats at your performance?" asked the lady. + +"You pay according to the pleasure we have given you." + +"Then, Mamma, you must pay a lot," said the child. He added something in +a language that I did not understand. + +"My son would like to see your actors nearer." + +I made a sign to Capi. With delight, he sprang onto the boat. + +"And the others!" cried the little boy. + +Zerbino and Dulcie followed Capi's example. + +"And the monkey!" + +Pretty-Heart could have easily made the jump, but I was never sure of +him. Once on board he might do some tricks that certainly would not be +to the lady's taste. + +"Is he spiteful?" she asked. + +"No, madam, but he is not always obedient, and I am afraid that he will +not behave himself." + +"Well, bring him on yourself." + +She signed to a man who stood near the rail. He came forward and threw a +plank across to the bank. With my harp on my shoulder and Pretty-Heart +in my arms I stepped up the plank. + +"The monkey! the monkey!" cried the little boy, whom the lady addressed +as Arthur. + +I went up to him and, while he stroked and petted Pretty-Heart, I +watched him. He was strapped to a board. + +"Have you a father, my child?" asked the lady. + +"Yes, but I am alone just now." + +"For long?" + +"For two months." + +"Two months! Oh, poor little boy. At your age how is it that you happen +to be left all alone?" + +"It has to be, madam." + +"Does your father make you take him a sum of money at the end of two +months? Is that it?" + +"No, madam, he does not force me to do anything. If I can make enough to +live with my animals, that is all." + +"And do you manage to get enough?" + +I hesitated before replying. I felt a kind of awe, a reverence for this +beautiful lady. Yet she talked to me so kindly and her voice was so +sweet, that I decided to tell her the truth. There was no reason why I +should not. Then I told her how Vitalis and I had been parted, that he +had gone to prison because he had defended me, and how since he had gone +I had been unable to make any money. + +While I was talking, Arthur was playing with the dogs, but he was +listening to what I said. + +"Then how hungry you all must be!" he cried. + +At this word, which the animals well knew, the dogs began to bark and +Pretty-Heart rubbed his stomach vigorously. + +"Oh, Mamma!" cried Arthur. + +The lady said a few words in a strange language to a woman, whose head I +could see through a half open door. Almost immediately the woman +appeared with some food. + +"Sit down, my child," said the lady. + +I did so at once. Putting my harp aside I quickly sat down in the chair +at the table; the dogs grouped themselves around me. Pretty-Heart jumped +on my knee. + +"Do your dogs eat bread?" asked Arthur. + +"Do they eat bread!" + +I gave them a piece which they devoured ravenously. + +"And the monkey?" said Arthur. + +But there was no occasion to worry about Pretty-Heart, for while I was +serving the dogs he had taken a piece of crust from a meat pie and was +almost choking himself underneath the table. I helped myself to the pie +and, if I did not choke like Pretty-Heart, I gobbled it up no less +gluttonously than he. + +"Poor, poor child!" said the lady. + +Arthur said nothing, but he looked at us with wide open eyes, certainly +amazed at our appetites, for we were all as famished as one another, +even Zerbino, who should have been somewhat appeased by the meat that he +had stolen. + +"What would you have eaten to-night if you had not met us?" asked +Arthur. + +"I don't think we should have eaten at all." + +"And to-morrow?" + +"Perhaps to-morrow we should have had the luck to meet some one like we +have to-day." + +Arthur then turned to his mother. For some minutes they spoke together +in a foreign language. He seemed to be asking for something which at +first she seemed not quite willing to grant. Then, suddenly, the boy +turned his head. His body did not move. + +"Would you like to stay with us?" he asked. + +I looked at him without replying; I was so taken back by the question. + +"My son wants to know if you would like to stay with us?" repeated the +lady. + +"On this boat?" + +"Yes, my little boy is ill and he is obliged to be strapped to this +board. So that the days will pass more pleasantly for him, I take him +about in this boat. While your master is in prison, if you like, you may +stay here with us. Your dogs and your monkey can give a performance +every day, and Arthur and I will be the audience. You can play your harp +for us. You will be doing us a service and we, on our side, may be +useful to you." + +To live on a boat! What a kind lady. I did not know what to say. I took +her hand and kissed it. + +"Poor little boy!" she said, almost tenderly. + +She had said she would like me to play my harp: this simple pleasure I +would give her at once. I wanted to show how grateful I was. I took my +instrument and, going to the end of the boat, I commenced to play +softly. The lady put a little silver whistle to her lips and blew it. + +I stopped playing, wondering why she had whistled. Was it to tell me +that I was playing badly, or to ask me to stop? Arthur, who saw +everything that passed around him, noticed my uneasiness. + +"My mamma blew the whistle for the horses to go on," he said. + +That was so; the barge, towed by the horses, glided over the soft waters +which lapped gently against the keel; on either side were trees and +behind us fell the oblique rays from the setting sun. + +"Will you play?" asked Arthur. + +He beckoned to his mother. She sat down beside him. He took her hand and +kept it in his, and I played to them all the pieces that my master had +taught me. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +ANOTHER BOY'S MOTHER + + +Arthur's mother was English. Her name was Mrs. Milligan. She was a +widow, and Arthur was her only son; at least, it was supposed that he +was her only son living, for she had lost an elder child under +mysterious conditions. When the child was six months old it had been +kidnaped, and they had never been able to find any trace of him. It is +true that, at the time he was taken, Mrs. Milligan had not been able to +make the necessary searches. Her husband was dying, and she herself was +dangerously ill and knew nothing of what was going on around her. When +she regained consciousness her husband was dead and her baby had +disappeared. Her brother-in-law, Mr. James Milligan, had searched +everywhere for the child. There being no heir, he expected to inherit +his brother's property. Yet, after all, Mr. James Milligan inherited +nothing from his brother, for seven months after the death of her +husband, Mrs. Milligan's second son, Arthur, was born. + +But the doctors said that this frail, delicate child could not live. He +might die at any moment. In the event of his death, Mr. James Milligan +would succeed to the fortune. He waited and hoped, but the doctors' +predictions were not fulfilled. Arthur lived. It was his mother's care +that saved him. When he had to be strapped to a board, she could not +bear the thought of her son being closed up in a house, so she had a +beautiful barge built for him, and was now traveling through France on +the various canals. + +Naturally, it was not the first day that I learned all this about the +English lady and her son. I learned these details little by little, +while I was with her. + +I was given a tiny cabin on the boat. What a wonderful little room it +appeared to me! Everything was spotless. The only article of furniture +that the cabin contained was a bureau, but what a bureau: bed, mattress, +pillows, and covers combined. And attached to the bed were drawers +containing brushes, combs, etc. There was no table or chairs, at least +not in their usual shape, but against the wall was a plank, which when +pulled down was found to be a little square table and chair. How pleased +I was to get into that little bed. It was the first time in my life that +I had felt soft sheets against my face. Mother Barberin's were very hard +and they used to rub my cheeks, and Vitalis and I had more often slept +without sheets, and those at the cheap lodging houses at which we stayed +were just as rough as Mother Barberin's. + +I woke early, for I wanted to know how my animals had passed the night. +I found them all at the place where I had installed them the night +before, and sleeping as though the beautiful barge had been their home +for several months. The dogs jumped up as I approached, but +Pretty-Heart, although he had one eye half open, did not move; instead +he commenced to snore like a trombone. + +I guessed at once what was the matter: Pretty-Heart was very sensitive; +he got angry very quickly and sulked for a long time. In the present +circumstances he was annoyed because I had not taken him into my cabin, +and he showed his displeasure by pretending to be asleep. + +I could not explain to him why I had been forced to leave him on deck, +and as I felt that I had, at least in appearances, done him an injury, I +took him in my arms and cuddled him, to show him that I was sorry. At +first he continued to sulk, but soon, with his changeable temper, he +thought of something else, and by his signs made me understand that if I +would take him for a walk on land he would perhaps forgive me. The man +who was cleaning the deck was willing to throw the plank across for us, +and I went off into the fields with my troop. + +The time passed, playing with the dogs and chasing Pretty-Heart; when we +returned the horses were harnessed and the barge in readiness to start. +As soon as we were all on the boat the horses began to trot along the +towing path; we glided over the water without feeling a movement, and +the only sound to be heard was the song of the birds, the swish of the +water against the boat, and the tinkle of bells around the horses' +necks. + +Here and there the water seemed quite black, as though it was of great +depth; in other parts it was as clear as crystal and we could see the +shiny pebbles and velvety grass below. + +I was gazing down into the water when I heard some one call my name. It +was Arthur. He was being carried out on his board. + +"Did you sleep well?" he asked, "better than in the field?" + +I told him that I had, after I had politely spoken to Mrs. Milligan. + +"And the dogs?" asked Arthur. + +I called to them; they came running up with Pretty-Heart; the latter +making grimaces as he usually did when he thought that we were going to +give a performance. + +Mrs. Milligan had placed her son in the shade and had taken a seat +beside him. + +"Now," she said to me, "you must take the dogs and the monkey away; we +are going to work." + +I went with the animals to the front of the boat. + +What work could that poor little boy do? + +I looked round and saw that his mother was making him repeat a lesson +from a book she held in her hand. He seemed to be having great +difficulty in mastering it, but his mother was very patient. + +"No," she said at last, "Arthur, you don't know it, at all." + +"I can't, Mamma, I just can't," he said, plaintively. "I'm sick." + +"Your head is not sick. I can't allow you to grow up in utter ignorance +because you're an invalid, Arthur." + +That seemed very severe to me, yet she spoke in a sweet, kind way. + +"Why do you make me so unhappy? You know how I feel when you won't +learn." + +"I cannot, Mamma; I cannot." And he began to cry. + +But Mrs. Milligan did not let herself be won over by his tears, although +she appeared touched and even more unhappy. + +"I would have liked to have let you play this morning with Remi and the +dogs," she said, "but you cannot play until you know your lessons +perfectly." With that she gave the book to Arthur and walked away, +leaving him alone. + +From where I stood I could hear him crying. How could his mother, who +appeared to love him so much, be so severe with the poor little fellow. +A moment later she returned. + +"Shall we try again?" she asked gently. + +She sat down beside him and, taking the book, she began to read the +fable called "The Wolf and the Sheep." She read it through three times, +then gave the book back to Arthur and told him to learn it alone. She +went inside the boat. + +I could see Arthur's lips moving. He certainly was trying very hard. +But soon he took his eyes off the book; his lips stopped moving. His +look wandered everywhere, but not back to his book. Suddenly he caught +my eye; I made a sign to him to go on with his lesson. He smiled, as +though to thank me for reminding him, and again fixed his eyes on his +book. But as before, he could not concentrate his thoughts; his eyes +began to rove from first one side of the canal to the other. Just then a +bird flew over the boat, swiftly as an arrow. Arthur raised his head to +follow its flight. When it had passed he looked at me. + +"I can't learn this," he said, "and yet I want to." + +I went over to him. + +"It is not very difficult," I said. + +"Yes, it is, it's awfully difficult." + +"It seems to me quite easy. I was listening while your mother read it, +and I almost learned it myself." + +He smiled as though he did not believe it. + +"Do you want me to say it to you?" + +"You can't." + +"Shall I try? You take the book." + +He took up the book again, and I began to recite the verse. I had it +almost perfect. + +"What! you know it?" + +"Not quite, but next time I could say it without a mistake, I believe." + +"How did you learn it?" + +"I listened while your mother read it, but I listened attentively +without looking about to see what was going on round about me." + +He reddened, and turned away his eyes. + +"I will try, like you," he said, "but tell me, what did you do to +remember the words?" + +I did not quite know how to explain, but I tried my best. + +"What is the fable about?" I said. "Sheep. Well, first of all, I thought +of sheep; the sheep were in a field. I could see them lying down and +sleeping in the field; picturing them so, I did not forget." + +"Yes, yes," he said, "I can see them, black and white ones! in a green +field." + +"What looks after the sheep usually?" + +"Dogs." + +"And?..." + +"A shepherd." + +"If they thought the sheep were quite safe, what did they do?" + +"The dog slept while the shepherd played his flute in the distance with +the other shepherds." + +Little by little Arthur had the entire fable pictured in his mind's eye. +I explained every detail, as well as I was able. When he was thoroughly +interested we went over the lines together and at the end of half an +hour he had mastered it. + +"Oh, how pleased mamma will be!" he cried. + +When his mother came out she seemed displeased that we were together. +She thought that we had been playing, but Arthur did not give her time +to say a word. + +"I know it!" he cried. "Remi has taught it to me." + +Mrs. Milligan looked at me in surprise, but before she could say a word +Arthur had commenced to recite the fable. I looked at Mrs. Milligan: her +beautiful face broke into a smile; then I thought I saw tears in her +eyes, but she bent her head quickly over her son and put her arms about +him. I was not sure if she was crying. + +"The words mean nothing," said Arthur; "they are stupid, but the things +that one sees! Remi made me see the shepherd with his flute, and the +fields, and the dogs, and the sheep, then the wolves, and I could even +hear the music that the shepherd was playing. Shall I sing the song to +you, Mamma?" + +And he sang a little sad song in English. + +This time Mrs. Milligan did really cry, for when she got up from her +seat, I saw that Arthur's cheeks were wet with her tears. Then she came +to me and, taking my hand in hers, pressed it gently. + +"You are a good boy," she said. + +The evening before I had been a little tramp, who had come on the barge +with his animals to amuse a sick child, but this lesson drew me apart +from the dogs and the monkey. I was, from now, a companion, almost a +friend, to the sick boy. + +From that day there was a change in Mrs. Milligan's manner toward me, +and between Arthur and myself there grew a strong friendship. I never +once felt the difference in our positions; this may have been due to +Mrs. Milligan's kindness, for she often spoke to me as though I were her +child. + +When the country was interesting we would go very slowly, but if the +landscape was dreary, the horses would trot quickly along the towing +path. When the sun went down the barge stopped; when the sun rose the +barge started on again. + +If the evenings were damp we went into the little cabin and sat round a +bright fire, so that the sick boy should not feel chilly, and Mrs. +Milligan would read to us and show us pictures and tell us beautiful +stories. + +Then, when the evenings were beautiful, I did my part. I would take my +harp and when the boat had stopped I would get off and go at a short +distance and sit behind a tree. Then, hidden by the branches, I played +and sang my best. On calm nights Arthur liked to hear the music without +being able to see who played. And when I played his favorite airs he +would call out "Encore," and I would play the piece over again. + +That was a beautiful life for the country boy, who had sat by Mother +Barberin's fireside, and who had tramped the high roads with Signor +Vitalis. What a difference between the dish of boiled potatoes that my +poor foster mother had given me and the delicious tarts, jellies, and +creams that Mrs. Milligan's cook made! What a contrast between the long +tramps in the mud, the pouring rain, the scorching sun, trudging behind +Vitalis, ... and this ride on the beautiful barge! + +The pastry was delicious, and yes, it was fine, oh, so fine not to be +hungry, nor tired, nor too hot, nor too cold, but in justice to myself, +I must say that it was the kindness and love of this lady and this +little boy that I felt the most. Twice I had been torn from those I +loved, ... first from dear Mother Barberin, and then from Vitalis. I was +left with only the dogs and the monkey, hungry and footsore, and then a +beautiful lady, with a child of about my own age, had taken me in and +treated me as though I were a brother. + +Often, as I looked at Arthur strapped to his bench, pale and drawn, I +envied him, I, so full of health and strength, envied the little sick +boy. It was not the luxuries that surrounded him that I envied, not the +boat. It was his mother. Oh, how I wanted a mother of my own! She kissed +him, and he was able to put his arms around her whenever he +wished,--this lady whose hand I scarcely dared touch when she held it +out to me. And I thought sadly that I should never have a mother who +would kiss me and whom I could kiss. Perhaps one day I should see Mother +Barberin again, and that would make me very happy, but I could not call +her mother now, for she was not my mother.... + +I was alone.... I should always be alone.... Nobody's boy. + +I was old enough to know that one should not expect to have too much +from this world, and I thought that, as I had no family, no father or +mother, I should be thankful that I had friends. And I was happy, so +happy on that barge. But, alas! it was not to last long. The day was +drawing near for me to take up my old life again. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE MASTER'S CONSENT + + +It was all to end,--this beautiful trip that I had made on the barge. No +nice bed, no nice pastry, no evenings listening to Mrs. Milligan. Ah! no +Mrs. Milligan or Arthur! + +One day I decided to ask Mrs. Milligan how long it would take me to get +back to Toulouse. I wanted to be waiting at the prison door when my +master came out. When Arthur heard me speak of going back, he began to +cry. + +"I don't want him to go! I don't want Remi to go," he sobbed. + +I told him that I belonged to Vitalis, and that he had paid a sum of +money for me, and that I must return to him the moment he wanted me. I +had spoken of my foster parents, but had never said that they were not +really my father and mother. I felt ashamed to admit that I was a +foundling,--a child picked up in the streets! I knew how the children +from the Foundlings' Hospital had been scorned. It seemed to me that it +was the most abject thing in the world to be a foundling. I did not want +Mrs. Milligan and Arthur to know. Would they not have turned from me in +disdain! + +"Mamma, we must keep Remi," continued Arthur. + +"I should be very pleased to keep Remi with us," replied Mrs. Milligan; +"we are so fond of him. But there are two things; first, Remi would have +to want to stay...." + +"Oh, he does! he does!" cried Arthur, "don't you, Remi? You don't want +to go back to Toulouse?" + +"The second is," continued Mrs. Milligan, "will his master give him up?" + +"Remi comes first; he comes first," Arthur insisted. + +Vitalis had been a good master, and I was very grateful for all he had +taught me, but there was no comparison between my life with him and that +which I should have with Arthur, and at the same time, there was also no +comparison between the respect I had for Vitalis and the affection which +I felt for Mrs. Milligan and her invalid boy. I felt that it was wrong +for me to prefer these strangers to my master, but it was so. I loved +Mrs. Milligan and Arthur. + +"If Remi stays with us it will not be all pleasure," went on Mrs. +Milligan; "he would have to do lessons the same as you; he would have to +study a great deal; it would not be the free life that he would have in +going tramping along the roads." + +"Ah, you know what I would like,..." I began. + +"There, there, you see, Mamma!" interrupted Arthur. + +"All that we have to do now," continued Mrs. Milligan, "is to get his +master's consent. I will write and ask him if he will come here, for we +cannot return to Toulouse. I will send him his fare, and explain to him +the reason why we cannot take the train. I'll invite him here, and I do +hope he will accept. + +"If he agrees to my proposition," added Mrs. Milligan, "I will then make +arrangements with your parents, Remi, for of course they must be +consulted." + +Consult my parents! They will tell her what I have been trying to keep +secret. That I am a foundling! Then neither Arthur nor Mrs. Milligan +would want me! + +A boy who did not know his own father or mother had been a companion to +Arthur! I stared at Mrs. Milligan in affright. I did not know what to +say. She looked at me in surprise. I did not dare reply to her question +when she asked me what was the matter. Probably thinking that I was +upset at the thought of my master coming, she did not insist. + +Arthur looked at me curiously all the evening. I was glad when bedtime +came, and I could close myself in my cabin. That was my first bad night +on board the _Swan_. What could I do? What say? + +Perhaps Vitalis would not give me up, then they would never know the +truth. My shame and fear of them finding out the truth was so great that +I began to hope that Vitalis would insist upon me staying with him. + +Three days later Mrs. Milligan received a reply to the letter she had +sent Vitalis. He said that he would be pleased to come and see her, and +that he would arrive the following Saturday, by the two o'clock train. I +asked permission to go to the station with the dogs and Pretty-Heart to +meet him. + +In the morning the dogs were restless as though they knew that something +was going to happen. Pretty-Heart was indifferent. I was terribly +excited. My fate was to be decided. If I had possessed the courage I +would have implored Vitalis not to tell Mrs. Milligan that I was a +foundling, but I felt that I could not utter the word, even to him. + +I stood on a corner of the railway station, holding my dogs on a leash, +with Pretty-Heart under my coat, and I waited. I saw little of what +passed around me. It was the dogs who warned me that the train had +arrived. They scented their master. Suddenly there was a tug at the +leash. As I was not on my guard, they broke loose. With a bark they +bounded forward. I saw them spring upon Vitalis. More sure, although +less supple than the other two, Capi had jumped straight into his +master's arms, while Zerbino and Dulcie jumped at his feet. + +When Vitalis saw me, he put Capi down quickly, and threw his arms around +me. For the first time he kissed me. + +"God bless you, my boy," he said again, and again. + +My master had never been hard with me, but neither had he ever been +affectionate, and I was not used to these effusions. I was touched, and +the tears came to my eyes, for I was in the mood when the heart is +easily stirred. I looked at him. His stay in prison had aged him +greatly. His back was bent, his face paler, and his lips bloodless. + +"You find me changed, don't you, Remi?" he said; "I was none too happy +in prison, but I'll be better now I'm out." + +Then, changing the subject, he added: + +"Tell me about this lady who wrote to me; how did you get to know her?" + +I told him how I had met Mrs. Milligan and Arthur in their barge, the +_Swan_, on the canal, and of what we had seen, and what we had done. I +rambled along hardly knowing what I said. Now that I saw Vitalis, I felt +that it would be impossible to tell him that I wanted to leave him and +stay with Mrs. Milligan. + +We reached the hotel where Mrs. Milligan was staying, before my story +was ended. Vitalis had not mentioned what she had proposed to him in her +letter, so I said nothing of her plan. + +"Is this lady expecting me?" he asked, as we entered the hotel. + +"Yes, I'll take you up to her apartment," I said. + +"There's no occasion for that," he replied; "I'll go up alone; you wait +here for me with Pretty-Heart and the dogs." + +I had always obeyed him, but in this case I felt that it was only fair +for me to go up with him to Mrs. Milligan's apartment. But with a sign +he stopped the words on my lips, and I was forced to stay below with the +dogs. + +Why didn't he want me to be present when he spoke to Mrs. Milligan? I +asked myself this question again and again. I was still pondering over +it when he returned. + +"Go and say good-by to the lady," he said, briefly. "I'll wait for you +here. We shall go in ten minutes." + +I was thunderstruck. + +"Well," he said, "didn't you understand me? You stand there like a +stupid! Hurry up!" + +He had never spoken so roughly to me. Mechanically I got up to obey, not +seeming to understand. "What did you say to her?" I asked, after I had +gone a few steps. + +"I said that I needed you and that you needed me, and consequently I was +not going to give up my rights to you. Go; I give you ten minutes to say +good-by." + +I was so possessed by the fact that I was a foundling, that I thought +that if I had to leave immediately it was because my master had told +them about my birth. + +Upon entering Mrs. Milligan's apartment I found Arthur in tears and his +mother bending over him. + +"You won't go, Remi! Oh, Remi, tell me you won't go," he sobbed. + +I could not speak. Mrs. Milligan replied for me, telling Arthur that I +had to do as I was told. + +"Signor Vitalis would not consent to let us have you," said Mrs. +Milligan in a voice so sad. + +"He's a wicked man!" cried Arthur. + +"No, he is not a wicked man," continued Mrs. Milligan; "he loves you ... +and he needs you. He speaks like a man far above his position. He told +me,--let me see, these were his words: + +"'I love that child, and he loves me. The apprenticeship in the life +that I give him is good for him, better, far better, than he would have +with you. You would give him an education, that is true; you would form +his mind, but not his character. It is the hardships of life that alone +can do that. He cannot be your son; he will be mine. That is better than +to be a plaything for your sick child, however sweet he may be. I also +will teach the boy.'" + +"But he isn't Remi's father," cried Arthur. + +"That is true, but he is his master, and Remi belongs to him. For the +time being, Remi must obey him. His parents rented him to Signor +Vitalis, but I will write to them and see what I can do." + +"Oh, no, no, don't do that," I cried. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Oh, no, please don't." + +"But that is the only thing to do, my child." + +"Oh, please, please don't." + +If Mrs. Milligan had not spoken of my parents, I should have taken much +more than the ten minutes to say good-by that my master had given me. + +"They live in Chavanon, do they not?" asked Mrs. Milligan. + +Without replying, I went up to Arthur and, putting my arms round him, +clung to him for a moment then, freeing myself from his weak clasp, I +turned and held out my hand to Mrs. Milligan. + +"Poor child," she murmured, kissing me on the forehead. + +I hurried to the door. + +"Arthur, I will love you always," I said, choking back my sobs, "and I +never, never will forget you, Mrs. Milligan." + +"Remi! Remi!" cried Arthur. + +I closed the door. One moment later I was with Vitalis. + +"Off we go," he said. + +And that was how I parted from my first boy friend. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WEARY DREARY DAYS + + +Again I had to tramp behind my master with the harp strapped to my +shoulder, through the rain, the sun, the dust, and the mud. I had to +play the fool and laugh and cry in order to please the "distinguished +audience." + +More than once in our long walks I lagged behind to think of Arthur, his +mother, and the _Swan_. When I was in some dirty village how I would +long for my pretty cabin on the barge. And how rough the sheets were +now. It was terrible to think that I should never again play with +Arthur, and never hear his mother's voice. + +Fortunately in my sorrow, which was very deep, I had one consolation; +Vitalis was much kinder, kinder than he had ever been before. His manner +with me had quite changed. I felt that he was more to me than a master +now. Often, if I dared, I would have embraced him, I so needed love. But +I had not the courage, for Vitalis was not a man with whom one dared be +familiar. At first it had been fear that kept me at a distance, but now +it was something vague, which resembled a sentiment of respect. + +When I left the village I had looked upon Vitalis the same as the other +men of the poorer class. I was not able to make distinctions, but the +two months that I had lived with Mrs. Milligan had opened my eyes and +developed my intelligence. Looking at my master with more attention, it +seemed to me that in manner and bearing he appeared to be very superior. +His ways were like Mrs. Milligan's ways.... + +Weeks passed. On our tramps, now, my eyes were always turned in the +direction of the water, not to the hills. I was always hoping that one +day I should see the _Swan_. If I saw a boat in the distance I always +thought that it might be the _Swan_. But it was not. + +We passed several days at Lyons, and all my spare time I spent on the +docks, looking up and down the river. I described the beautiful barge to +the fishermen and asked them if they had seen it, but no one had seen +it. + +We had to leave Lyons at last and went on to Dijon; then I began to give +up hope of ever seeing Mrs. Milligan again, for at Lyons I had studied +all the maps of France, and I knew that the _Swan_ could not go farther +up the river to reach the Loire. It would branch off at Chalon. We +arrived at Chalon, and we went on again without seeing it. It was the +end of my dream. + +To make things worse, the winter was now upon us, and we had to tramp +along wearily in the blinding rain and slush. At night, when we arrived +at a wretched inn, or in a barn, tired out, wet to the skin, I could +not drop off to sleep with laughter on my lips. Sometimes we were frozen +to the bone, and Pretty-Heart was as sad and mournful as myself. + +My master's object was to get to Paris as quickly as possible, for it +was only in Paris that we had a chance to give performances during the +winter. We were making very little money now, so we could not afford to +take the train. + +After the cold sleet, the wind turned to the north. It had been very +damp for several days. At first we did not mind the biting north wind in +our faces, but soon the sky filled with great black clouds and the +wintry sun disappeared altogether. We knew that a snowstorm was coming. + +Vitalis was anxious to get to the next big town, where we could stay and +give several performances, if very bad weather overtook us. + +"Go to bed quickly," he said, when we got to an inn that night; "we are +going to start at a very early hour to-morrow, because I don't want to +be caught in a snowstorm." + +He did not go to bed at once, but sat down by a corner of the kitchen +fire to warm Pretty-Heart, who was suffering terribly from the cold. The +monkey had not ceased moaning, although we had wrapped him up in plenty +of coverlets. + +The next morning I got up early as I had been told. It was not yet day, +the sky was lowering and black, and there was not a star to be seen. +When we opened the door a strong wind almost took us off our feet. + +"If I were in your place," said the innkeeper to Vitalis, "I wouldn't +venture out. We're going to have a terrible snowstorm." + +"I'm in a hurry," replied Vitalis, "and I want to get to Troyes before +it comes on." + +"Thirty miles." + +Nevertheless, we started. + +Vitalis held Pretty-Heart tight against his body so as to give him some +of his own warmth, and the dogs, pleased with the hard dry roads, raced +before us. My master had bought a sheepskin for me at Dijon, and I +wrapped myself up in it with the wool inside. + +It was anything but agreeable when we opened our mouths, so we walked +along in silence, hurrying as much to get warm as to get ahead. Although +it was long past the hour of daybreak, the sky was still quite black. +Although to the east a whitish band cut the clouds, yet the sun would +not come out. Looking across the country, objects were now becoming more +distinct. We could see the trees stripped of their leaves, and the +shrubs and bushes with dry foliage rustling and cracking with the heavy +gusts of wind. There was no one on the roads, nor in the fields, not a +sound of cart wheels, nor the crack of a whip. + +Suddenly, in the distance, we could see a pale streak which got larger +and larger as it came towards us. Then we heard a sort of hissing +murmur, the strange, harsh cry of the wild geese. The maddened flock +flew over our heads; on they went, wildly fleeing from the north towards +the south. Before they were out of sight, soft flakes were dropping +gently from the skies and floating in the atmosphere. + +The country through which we tramped was desolate and bleak, the +mournful aspect seemed to add to the silence; only the shrill whistling +of the north wind was heard. Snowflakes, like tiny butterflies, +fluttered around us, whirling incessantly without touching the ground. + +We made little headway. It seemed impossible that we could reach Troyes +before the storm was fully upon us. But I did not worry; I thought that +if the snow fell it would not be so cold. + +I did not know what a snow storm could be. It was not long before I +learned, and in a way that I shall never forget. The clouds were +gathering from the northwest. The flakes no longer hovered in the air, +but fell straight and swift, covering us from head to foot. + +"We shall have to take shelter in the first house we come to," murmured +Vitalis; "we cannot make Troyes." + +I was pleased to hear him say that, but where could we find shelter? As +far as the eye could reach there was not a house to be seen, nor +anything to indicate that we were nearing a village. + +Before us lay a forest with its dark depths, and on either side of us +the hills. The snow came down faster and thicker. + +We tramped in silence. My master lifted his sheepskin now and again for +Pretty-Heart to breathe more easily. From time to time we had to turn +our heads to one side, so that we also could breathe. The dogs no longer +raced ahead; they walked at our heels asking for the shelter that we +were unable to give them. + +We went slowly and painfully on, blinded, wet and frozen, and, although +we were now in the heart of the forest, the road through it was exposed +to the full wind. Several times I saw my master glance to the left, as +though he were looking for something, but he said nothing. What did he +hope to find? I looked straight before me, down the long road. As far as +my eye could reach, I could see nothing but woods on either side. I +thought we should never come to the end of that forest. + +I had seen the snow falling only through the window panes of a warm +kitchen. How far off that warm kitchen seemed now! Our feet sunk into +the white bed of snow, deeper and deeper. Then, suddenly, without saying +a word, Vitalis pointed to the left. I looked and saw indistinctly a +little hut made of branches. + +We had to find the track that led to the hut. This was difficult, for +the snow was already thick enough to efface all trace of a path. We +scrambled through the bushes, and after crossing a ditch, we managed at +last to reach the hut and get inside. The dogs, in ecstasy, rolled over +and over on the dry ground, barking. Our satisfaction was no less keen +than theirs. + +"I thought there would be a wood-cutter's cabin somewhere in the +forest," said Vitalis. "Now, it can snow!" + +"Yes, let it snow," I said defiantly; "I don't care!" + +I went to the door, or rather to the opening of the hut, for there was +neither door nor window, and shook my coat and hat, so as not to wet the +inside of our apartment. + +Our quarters were very simply but strongly built. Its furniture +consisted of a heap of dirt and some big stones for seats. + +In a house like this it was not difficult to find fuel; we had only to +take it down from the walls and the roof, dragging out a few faggots +here and there. This was quickly done, and soon we had a bright flaming +fire. It is true that the hut was soon filled with smoke, but what did +that matter? There was a flame, and it was heat that we wanted. I lay +down, supporting myself on my two hands, and blew the fire; the dogs sat +around the grate gravely; with necks stretched out they presented their +wet sides to the flames. + +Pretty-Heart soon ventured to peep from under Vitalis' coat; prudently +putting the end of his nose outside, he looked about to take in his +surroundings. Evidently satisfied, he jumped quickly to the ground and +taking the best place before the fire he held out his two little +trembling hands to the flames. + +That morning before I had risen, Vitalis had packed some provisions. +There was some bread and a piece of cheese. We all expressed +satisfaction at the sight of the food. Unfortunately, we were only able +to have a very small piece, for not knowing how long we should have to +stay in the hut, Vitalis thought it advisable to keep some for supper. I +understood, but the dogs did not, and when they saw the bread put back +in the bag before they had scarcely eaten, they held out their paws to +their master, scratching his neck, and performing pantomime gestures to +make him open the bag upon which their eyes were fixed. But Vitalis took +no notice of them; the bag was not opened. The dogs settled themselves +to go to sleep, Capi with his nose in the cinders. I thought that I +would follow their example. + +I do not know how long I slept; when I awoke the snow had stopped +falling. I looked outside. It was very deep; if we ventured out it would +come above our knees. + +What time was it? I could not ask Vitalis. His big silver watch, by +which Capi had told the hour, had been sold. He had spent all his money +to pay his prison fine, and when he bought my sheepskin at Dijon he had +parted with his big watch to pay for it. From the misty atmosphere it +was impossible for me to tell what hour it might be. + +There was not a sound to be heard; the snow seemed to have petrified +every movement of life. I was standing in the opening of our cabin when +I heard my master calling. + +"Do you want to get on your way?" he asked. + +"I don't know; I want to do what you wish." + +"Well, I think we ought to stay here; we are at least sheltered and have +warmth." + +That was true, but I remembered that we had no food. However, I said +nothing. + +"I'm afraid it will snow again," continued Vitalis. "We don't want to +spend the night outside. Better stay here." + +Yes, we should have to stay in the hut and tighten our belts round our +stomachs, that was all. + +At supper Vitalis divided the remainder of the bread. Alas, there was +but little, and it was quickly eaten; we gobbled up every crumb. When +our frugal supper was over I thought that the dogs would begin making +signs for more as they had done before, for they were ravenous. But they +did nothing of the kind, and once again I realized how great was their +intelligence. + +When Vitalis thrust his knife into his trouser pocket, which indicated +that the feast was over, Capi got up and smelled the bag in which the +food was kept. He then placed his paw on the bag to feel it. This double +investigation convinced him that there was nothing left to eat. Then, +coming back to his place before the fire, he looked at Zerbino and +Dulcie. The look clearly signified that they would get nothing more; +then he stretched himself out his entire length with a sigh of +resignation. "There is nothing more. It is useless to beg." He said this +to them as plainly as though he had spoken aloud. + +His companions, understanding this language, also stretched out before +the fire sighing, but Zerbino's sigh in no wise betokened resignation, +for added to a large appetite, Zerbino was very much of a gourmand, and +this was a greater sacrifice for him than for the others. + +The snow had commenced to fall again; it fell persistently. We could see +the white carpet on the ground rise higher and higher until the small +shrubs and bushes were hidden beneath it. When night came, big flakes +were still falling from the black sky onto the shimmering earth. + +As we had to sleep there, the best thing to do was to go to sleep as +quickly as possible. I wrapped myself up in my sheepskin, which I had +dried by the fire during the day, and I laid down beside the fire, my +head on a flat stone which served for a pillow. + +"You go to sleep," said Vitalis; "I'll wake you when it's my turn, for +although we have nothing to fear from animals or people in this cabin, +one of us must keep awake to see that the fire does not go out. We must +be careful not to get cold, for it will be bitter when the snow stops." + +I slept. In the small hours of the night my master woke me. The fire +was still burning, and the snow had stopped falling. + +"It's my turn to sleep now," said Vitalis; "as the fire goes down you +throw on this wood that I've got already here." + +He had piled up a heap of small wood by the grate. My master, who slept +much lighter than I, did not wish me to wake him by pulling down the +wood from the walls each time I needed it. So from this heap that he had +prepared, I could take the wood and throw on the fire without making a +noise. It was a wise thing to do, but alas, Vitalis did not know what +the result would be. + +He stretched out now before the fire with Pretty-Heart in his coverlet +cuddled up against him, and soon, from his deep breathing, I knew that +he had fallen asleep. Then I got up softly and went to the opening to +see how it looked outside. + +All the grass, the bushes, and the trees were buried in snow. Everywhere +the eye rested was a dazzling white. The sky was dotted with twinkling +stars, but although they were so bright it was the snow which shed the +pale light over the earth. It was much colder now; it was freezing hard. + +Oh! what should we have done in the depths of the forest in the snow and +the cold if we had not found this shelter? + +Although I had walked on tiptoe to the opening without scarcely making a +sound, I had roused the dogs, and Zerbino had followed me. The splendor +of the night was nothing to him; he looked on the scene for a moment, +and then became bored and wanted to go outside. I ordered him to return +to his place. Foolish dog, wasn't it better to stay by the warm fire in +this terrible cold than to go prowling around. He obeyed me, but with a +very bad grace, and kept his eyes fixed on the entrance. I stayed there +for a few minutes longer, looking at the white night. It was beautiful, +but although I enjoyed it, somehow I felt a vague sadness. I could have +gone inside and not looked, of course, but the white, mysterious scene +held me fascinated. + +At last I went back to the fire and having placed two or three long +pieces of wood crossways upon one another, I sat down on the stone which +had served me for a pillow. My master was sleeping calmly; the dogs and +Pretty-Heart also slept, and the flames leaped from the fire and swirled +upward to the roof, throwing out bright sparks. The spluttering flame +was the only sound that broke the silence of the night. For a long time +I watched the sparks, then little by little I began to get drowsy, +without my being aware. + +If I had been compelled to busy myself with getting the wood, I could +have kept awake, but seated before the fire with nothing to do, I became +so sleepy, and yet all the time I thought that I could manage to keep +awake. + +I sprang up suddenly, awakened by a violent barking! It was night. I +probably had slept for a long time and the fire was almost out. No +flames lit the hut now. Capi was barking loudly, furiously. But, +strange! there was no sound from Zerbino or Dulcie. + +"What's the matter?" cried Vitalis, waking up. + +"I don't know." + +"You've been to sleep, and the fire's gone out." + +Capi had run to the opening, but had not ventured outside. He stood on +the threshold barking. + +"What has happened?" I asked in my turn. + +In answer to Capi's barks came two or three mournful howls. I recognized +Dulcie's voice. These howls came from behind our hut and at a very short +distance. + +I was going out. But Vitalis put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me. + +"First," he said, in a tone of command, "put some wood on the fire." + +While I obeyed, he took a sprig from the fire and blew it out until only +the point remained burning. He held the torch in his hand. + +"Come and see what is the matter," he said; "you walk behind me. Go +ahead, Capi." + +As we went out there was a frightful howl. Capi drew back, cowering +behind us in terror. + +"Wolves! Where are Zerbino and Dulcie?" + +What could I say? The two dogs must have gone out while I slept. Zerbino +had waited until I was asleep and had then crept out, and Dulcie had +followed him. The wolves had got hold of them! There was fear in my +master's voice when he asked for the dogs. + +"Take a torch," he said, "we must go to their aid." + +In our village I had heard them tell terrible stories of wolves, yet I +could not hesitate. I ran back for a torch, then followed my master. + +But outside we could see neither dogs nor wolves. On the snow we could +see only the imprint of the two dogs' paws. We followed these traces +around the hut, then at a certain distance we could see a space in the +snow which looked as though some animals had been rolling in it. + +"Go and look for them, Capi," said my master; at the same time he +whistled to attract Zerbino and Dulcie. + +But there was no barking in reply; no sound disturbed the mournful +silence of the forest, and Capi, instead of running off as he was told, +kept close to us, giving every sign of fear. Capi who was usually so +obedient and brave! + +There was not sufficient light for us to follow the imprints any +distance. The snow around us was dazzling, but beyond seemed all vague +and obscure. + +Again Vitalis whistled and shouted for the missing dogs. There was no +answering bark. + +Oh, poor Zerbino; poor Dulcie! + +"The wolves have got them," said Vitalis; "why did you let them go out?" + +Yes? why? I had nothing to say. + +"We must go and look for them," I said after a pause. + +I went before him, but he stopped me. + +"Where will you look for them?" he asked. + +"I don't know; everywhere." + +"We can't tell, in this dim light, where they have gone." + +That was true, and the snow came up above our knees. Our two torches +together could not penetrate the shadows. + +"If they do not reply, it is because they are a long way off," he said. +"We must not go on; the wolves might attack us also. We cannot defend +ourselves." + +It was dreadful to have to leave the poor dogs to their fate--our two +friends; friends particularly to me. And the terrible part of it was +that I knew that I was responsible. If I had not slept they would not +have gone out. + +My master had turned back to the hut. I followed, looking back at each +step, stopping to listen. I heard nothing, and saw nothing but the snow. + +When we reached the hut another surprise awaited us. The branches that I +had thrown on the fire were aflame and lit up the darkest corners of the +cabin, but Pretty-Heart was nowhere to be seen. His coverlets were there +before the fire, but he was not in them. I called. Vitalis called, but +he did not appear. + +My master said that when he awoke the monkey was beside him, so it was +while we were out that he had disappeared. With our burning torches +held down to the snowy earth we started out to look for him. We found no +trace of him. + +We returned to the hut to see if he were hidden behind some faggots. We +searched for a long time; ten times we looked in the same place, the +same corners. I climbed up on Vitalis' shoulders to look amongst the +branches of which the roof was made. We called again and again, but +there was no answer. + +Vitalis seemed angry. I was in despair. I asked my master if he thought +that the wolves could have taken him also. + +"No," he said, "the wolves would not dare come into the hut. I am afraid +they got Zerbino and Dulcie when they went out, but they did not come in +here. It is quite likely that Pretty-Heart was terrified and has hidden +himself somewhere while we were outside; that is why I am so anxious. In +this terrible weather he will catch cold, and cold is fatal for him." + +"Well, let us keep on looking." + +We went over the ground again, but all in vain. + +"We must wait till day," said Vitalis. + +"When will it be day?" + +"In two or three hours, I think." + +Vitalis sat down before the fire, with his head in his hands. I did not +dare disturb him. I stood quite close to him, only moving occasionally +to put some branches on the fire. Once or twice he got up and went to +the door. He looked at the sky, listened attentively, then came back +and sat down. I would rather that he had been angry with me, than that +he should be so silent and sad. + +The three hours passed slowly. It seemed that the night would never end. +The stars were fading from the heavens, the sky was getting lighter. Day +was breaking. But as morning came the cold grew more intense; the air +which came through the door froze us to the bone. + +If we did find Pretty-Heart, would he be alive? + +The snow had quite stopped falling now and there was a pinkish light in +the sky which foretold fine weather. As soon as it was quite light, +Vitalis and I, armed with a stout stick, left the hut. + +Capi did not appear so terrified as he had been the night before. With +his eyes fixed on his master, he only waited for a sign from him to rush +forward. As we were examining the ground for Pretty-Heart's footprints, +Capi threw back his head and began to bark joyfully. He signified that +we must look up, not on the ground. + +In the great oak standing by the hut we found him. + +Poor Pretty-Heart! Frightened by the howling of the dogs, he had jumped +onto the roof of the cabin when we had gone out, and from there he had +climbed to the top of an oak, where, feeling that he was in a safe +place, he had remained crouching, without replying to our calls. + +The poor little frail creature, he must be frozen! + +My master called him gently. He did not move. We thought that he was +already dead. For several minutes Vitalis continued to call him, but the +monkey gave no sign of life. My heart ached with remorse. How severely I +was being punished! I must atone. + +"I'll go up and get him," I said. + +"You'll break your neck." + +"No, there is no danger. I can do it easily." + +That was not true. There was danger. It was very difficult, for the +large tree was covered with ice and snow. + +When I was quite small I had learned to climb trees, and I was quite an +adept in this art. I jumped and caught hold of the lowest branches. I +held onto these, and, although blinded by the snow that fell in my eyes, +I managed to climb up the trunk to the stronger branches. Once up there +I had only to be careful not to lose my footing. + +As I climbed I spoke softly to Pretty-Heart. He did not move, but looked +at me with shining eyes. I had almost reached him and was about to +stretch out my hand, when, with a spring, he had jumped to another +branch. I followed him to this branch, but men, alas, and even +youngsters are very inferior to monkeys when it comes to climbing trees. +It is quite possible that I should never have caught him if the snow had +not wet his feet. He did not like this and soon got tired of dodging me; +then, letting himself drop from branch to branch, he jumped straight +onto his master's shoulders and hid himself inside his coat. + +It was a great thing to have found Pretty-Heart, but that was not all. +Now we had to look for the dogs. + +It was day now and easy for us to see what had happened. In the snow we +read the death of our dogs. We followed their footprints for thirty +yards. They had come out of the hut, one behind the other, Dulcie +following Zerbino. Then we saw other footprints. On one side there were +signs of a struggle where the wolves had sprung upon the dogs, and on +the other sides were the footprints of the wolves where they trotted +off, carrying their prey with them, to be devoured at their leisure. +There was no trace of the dogs except a red trail of blood which here +and there stained the snow. + +The two poor dogs had gone to their death while I slept! + +We had to get busy as quickly as possible with warming Pretty-Heart. We +hurried back to the hut. While Vitalis held out the little creature's +feet and hands to the fire, as one holds a tiny baby, I warmed his +coverlets and we rolled him up in them. But he needed more than the +coverlets; he needed a warm drink. My master and I sat by the fire, +silent, watching the wood burn. + +"Poor Zerbino; poor Dulcie!" + +Each of us murmured these words; first he, then I. + +The dogs had been our friends, our companions, in good and bad fortune, +and to me in my loneliness they had meant so much. How deeply I +reproached myself for not having kept watch. The wolves would not have +come to attack us in our cabin; they would have stayed in the distance, +frightened by the fire. + +If only Vitalis would have scolded me! I wished that he would beat me. +But he said nothing. He did not even look at me. He sat with his head +bent over the fire; probably wondering what would become of us without +the dogs. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE DEATH OF PRETTY-HEART + + +The sun came out brightly. Its rays fell on the white snow, and the +forest, which the night before had looked so bleak and livid, was now +dazzling with a radiancy that blinded the eyes. Several times Vitalis +passed his hand under the coverlet to feel Pretty-Heart, but the poor +little monkey did not get warmer, and when I bent over him I could hear +him shivering and shaking. The blood in his veins was frozen. + +"We must get to a village or Pretty-Heart will die," said Vitalis. "Let +us start at once." + +His wrappings were well heated and the little creature was rolled in +them. My master placed him under his vest, next his heart. We were +ready. + +"This was a shelter," said Vitalis, looking round the hut as we were +going out, "that has made us pay dearly for its hospitality." His voice +trembled. + +He went out first, and I followed in his footsteps. When we had gone a +few yards we had to call to Capi. Poor dog, he had remained standing +outside the hut, his nose turned to the spot where his companions had +been taken by the wolves. + +Ten minutes later we reached the main road. We passed a cart; the +driver told us that within an hour we should reach a village. This was +encouraging, yet it was difficult, even painful, to walk. The snow came +up to my waist. Many times I asked Vitalis after Pretty-Heart. Each time +he told me that he was still shivering. At last we saw the white roofs +of a fair sized village. We were not in the habit of putting up at the +better class inns. We always chose a poor place, where we were sure we +should not be driven away, and where they would not take all we had. + +But this time Vitalis went into an inn where a beautiful sign hung +outside the kitchen door. The door was open and we could see the great +stove covered with shining copper saucepans, from which the steam was +rising. Ah, how good that soup smelled to the famished wanderers! + +My master, putting on his most "gentlemanly" airs, and with his hat on +his head and his head thrown back, asked the landlady for a good bed and +a fire. At first the landlady, who was a fine looking woman, had not +condescended to notice us, but Vitalis' grand manner evidently impressed +her. She spoke to a maid and told her to take us up to a room. + +"Quick, get into bed," said Vitalis, while the servant was lighting the +fire. I looked at him in astonishment. Why go to bed? I would rather sit +down and eat something than go to bed. + +"Quick, hurry up," repeated Vitalis. + +There was nothing to do but to obey. + +There was an eiderdown quilt on the bed. Vitalis pulled it right up to +my chin. + +"Try and get warm," he said; "the warmer you are the better." + +It seemed to me that Pretty-Heart needed warming much more than I, +because I was not very cold now. While I laid still under the eiderdown +trying to get warm, Vitalis, to the servant's astonishment, turned +little Pretty-Heart round and round before the fire as though he were +going to roast him. + +"Are you warm?" Vitalis asked me after a few minutes. + +"I'm suffocating." + +"That's right." + +He came to the bed quickly. He put Pretty-Heart in, telling me to hold +him close to my chest. The poor little animal, who always rebelled when +he was made to do something that he did not want, seemed resigned to +everything. He let me hold him close to my body without making a +movement. But he was not cold now; his body was burning. + +My master, who had gone down to the kitchen, soon returned, carrying a +bowl of well sweetened wine. He tried to make Pretty-Heart drink a few +spoonfuls, but the poor little creature could not unclench his teeth. +With his brilliant eyes he looked at us imploringly as though to ask us +not to torment him. Then he drew one arm from under the covers and held +it out to us. + +I wondered what he meant. I looked inquiringly at Vitalis, who +explained: Before I had met them Pretty-Heart had had inflammation of +the lungs and they had had to bleed him, taking the blood from his arm. +Knowing that he was sick now he wanted us to bleed him so that he could +get better as before. + +Poor little monkey! Vitalis was touched to the heart, and this made him +still more anxious. It was evident that Pretty-Heart was ill and he must +be very ill indeed to refuse the sugared wine that he liked so much. + +"Drink the wine, Remi, and stay in bed," said Vitalis. "I'll go for a +doctor." + +I must admit that I also liked sugared wine and besides I was very +hungry. I did not let him tell me twice to drink it. After I had emptied +the bowl I slid down under the eiderdown again, where the heat, aided by +the wine, nearly suffocated me. + +Vitalis was not gone long. He soon returned, bringing with him a +gentleman wearing gold-rimmed spectacles--the doctor. Thinking that the +doctor might not put himself out for a monkey, Vitalis had not told him +who was his patient. When he saw me in bed, as red as a tomato, the +doctor put his hand on my forehead and said at once: "Congestion." + +He shook his head with an air which augured nothing good. + +Anxious to undeceive him for fear he might bleed me, I cried: "Why, I'm +not ill!" + +"Not ill! Why, the child is delirious." + +I lifted the quilt a bit and showed him Pretty-Heart, who had placed +his little arm round my neck. + +"He's the one that's ill," I said. + +"A monkey!" he exclaimed, turning angrily to Vitalis. "You've brought me +out in such weather to see a monkey!..." + +Our master was a smart man who was not easily ruffled. Politely, and +with his grand air, he stopped the doctor. Then he explained the +situation, how he had been caught in a snowstorm, and how through fear +of the wolves Pretty-Heart had jumped up in an oak tree, where he had +been almost frozen to death. The patient might be only a monkey, but +what a genius! and what a friend and companion to us! How could we +confide such a wonderful, talented creature to the care of a simple +veterinary surgeon? Every one knew that the village veterinary was an +ass, while every one knew that doctors were scientific men, even in the +smallest village. If one rings at a door which bears a doctor's name, +one is sure to find a man of knowledge, and of generosity. Although the +monkey is only an animal, according to naturalists they are so near like +men that often an illness is treated the same for one as for the other. +And was it not interesting, from a scientific point of view, to study +how these illnesses differed. The doctor soon returned from the door +where he had been standing. + +Pretty-Heart, who had probably guessed that this person wearing the +spectacles was a physician, again pushed out his arm. + +"Look," cried Vitalis, "he wants you to bleed him." + +That settled the doctor. + +"Most interesting; a very interesting case," he murmured. + +Alas! after examining him, the doctor told us that poor little +Pretty-Heart again had inflammation of the lungs. The doctor took his +arm and thrust a lancet into a vein without him making the slightest +moan. Pretty-Heart knew that this ought to cure him. + +After the bleeding he required a good deal of attention. I, of course, +had not stayed in bed. I was the nurse, carrying out Vitalis' +instructions. + +Poor little Pretty-Heart! he liked me to nurse him. He looked at me and +smiled sadly. His look was quite human. He, who was usually so quick and +petulant, always playing tricks on one of us, was now quiet and +obedient. + +In the days that followed he tried to show us how friendly he felt +towards us, even to Capi, who had so often been the victim of his +tricks. As in the usual trend of inflammation of the lungs, he soon +began to cough; the attacks tired him greatly, for his little body shook +convulsively. All the money which I had, five sous, I spent on sugar +sticks for him, but they made him worse instead of better. With his keen +instinct, he soon noticed that every time he coughed I gave him a little +piece of sugar stick. He took advantage of this and coughed every +moment in order to get the remedy that he liked so much, and this remedy +instead of curing him made him worse. + +When I found out this trick I naturally stopped giving him the candy, +but he was not discouraged. First he begged for it with an appealing +look; then when he saw that I would not give it to him, he sat up in his +seat and bent his little body with his hand on his stomach, and coughed +with all his might. The veins in his forehead stood out, the tears ran +from his eyes, and his pretense at choking, in the end, turned to a +dreadful attack over which he had no control. + +I had to stay at the inn with Pretty-Heart while my master went out +alone. One morning upon his return he told me that the landlady had +demanded the sum that we owed her. This was the first time that he had +ever spoken to me about money. It was quite by chance that I had learned +that he had sold his watch to buy my sheepskin. Now he told me that he +had only fifty sous left. The only thing to do, he said, was to give a +performance that same day. A performance without Zerbino, Dulcie or +Pretty-Heart; why, that seemed to me impossible! + +"We must get forty francs at once," he said. "Pretty-Heart must be +looked after. We must have a fire in the room, and medicine, and the +landlady must be paid. If we pay her what we owe her, she will give us +another credit." + +Forty francs in this village! in the cold, and with such poor resources +at our command! + +While I stayed at home with Pretty-Heart, Vitalis found a hall in the +public market, for an out-of-door performance was out of the question. +He wrote the announcements and stuck them up all over the village. With +a few planks of wood he arranged a stage, and bravely spent his last +fifty sous to buy some candles, which he cut in half so as to double the +lights. + +From the window of our room I saw him come and go, tramping back and +forth in the snow. I wondered anxiously what program he could make. I +was soon enlightened on this subject, for along came the town crier of +the village, wearing a scarlet cap, and stopped before the inn. After a +magnificent roll of his drum he read out our program. + +Vitalis had made the most extravagant promises! There was to be present +a world-renowned artist--that was Capi--and a young singer who was a +marvel; the marvel was myself. But the most interesting part of the +farce was that there was no fixed price for the entertainment. We relied +upon the generosity of the audience, and the public need not pay until +after it had seen, heard, and applauded. + +That seemed to me extraordinarily bold. Who was going to applaud us? +Capi certainly deserved to be celebrated, but I ... I was not at all +convinced that I was a marvel. + +Although Pretty-Heart was very ill at this moment, when he heard the +drum, he tried to get up. From the noise and Capi's barks, he seemed to +guess that it was to announce our performance. + +I had to force him back on his bed; then he made signs to me to give him +his general's uniform--the red coat and trousers with gold braid, and +hat with the plume. He clasped his hands and went down on his knees to +beg me. When he saw that he could get nothing from me by begging, he +tried what anger would do, then finally melted into tears. It was +evident that we should have a great deal of trouble to convince him that +he must give up all idea of playing that night. I thought it would be +better not to let him know when we started. + +When Vitalis returned, he told me to get my harp ready and all the +things we required for the entertainment. Pretty-Heart, who knew what +this meant, turned to his master and commenced his entreaties again. He +could not have better expressed his desires than by the sounds he +uttered, the twisting of his face, and the turns of his body. There were +real tears on his cheeks and they were real kisses that he imprinted on +Vitalis' hand. "You want to play?" asked Vitalis, who had not been told +what happened before. + +"Yes, oh, yes!" Pretty-Heart's whole person seemed to cry out. He tried +to jump to show that he was no longer sick. We know very well that if we +took him out it would be his death. + +It was time for us to start. Before going, I made up a good fire and +wrapped Pretty-Heart up in his coverlets. He cried again and embraced +me as much as he could, then we started. + +As we tramped through the snow, my master told me what he expected of +me. We could not, of course, give our usual repertoire, as our principal +actors were missing, but Capi and I could vie with each other in doing +our best. We had to collect forty francs! Forty francs! It was terrible! +Impossible! + +Vitalis had prepared everything. All we had to do now was to light the +candles, but this was an extravagance that we could not indulge in until +the room was filled, for our illuminations would not have to come to an +end before our entertainment. + +Whilst we took possession of our theater, the town crier, with his drum, +came through the village streets for the last time. After I had dressed +Capi and myself, I went outside and stood behind a pillar to watch the +people arrive. + +The roll of the drum became louder. It was approaching the market place +and I could hear a babble of voices. Behind the drum came a score of +youngsters, all keeping step. Without stopping the beating of his drum, +the town crier took up his place between the two large lamps that were +lit at the entrance of our theater. The public had only to walk in and +take their seats for the performance to commence. + +Alas! how long they were coming, and yet the drum at the door continued +gayly its _rat ta ta ta_. All the boys in the village must have been +there. But it was not the youngsters who were likely to give us forty +francs. There would have to be some important people, open-handed and +generous. + +At last Vitalis decided that we ought to commence, although the hall was +far from being full; but we could not wait longer, worried as we were by +the terrible question of candles. + +I had to appear first and sing a few songs, accompanying myself on the +harp. I must confess the applause that I received was very weak. I had +never thought very much of myself as an entertainer, but the marked +coolness with which the audience received my efforts discouraged me. If +I did not please them they would certainly not give us anything. It was +not for the glory that I was singing; it was for poor Pretty-Heart. Ah, +how I wanted to stir this public, to make them enthusiastic.... But I +could see only too well that they did not consider me a marvel. + +Capi was more successful. He received several encores. Thanks to Capi, +the entertainment ended in a burst of applause. Not only did they clap +their hands, but they stamped their feet. + +The decisive moment had arrived. While Capi, with the cup in his jaws, +ran through the audience, I danced a Spanish dance on the stage, with +Vitalis playing an accompaniment. Would Capi collect forty francs? That +was the question which made my heart beat while I smiled at the public +in my pleasantest manner. + +I was out of breath, but I still continued to dance, for I was not to +stop until Capi had returned. He did not hurry himself; when he found +that he did not receive a coin, he placed his paw against the person's +pocket. At last I saw him about to return, and thought that I might +stop, but Vitalis made me a sign to go on. + +I continued to dance, and going a few steps nearer Capi, I saw that the +cup was not full; far from it. Vitalis had also seen this. Bowing to the +audience, he said: + +"Ladies and gentlemen, I think that, without flattering ourselves, we +have conscientiously carried out our program, yet as our candles are +still burning, I will, if the public wishes, sing some songs myself. Our +dog, Capi, will make another quest and those who have not yet given will +perhaps give this time. Please have your money ready." + +Although Vitalis had been my teacher, I had never really heard him sing, +or at least not as he sung that evening. He selected two songs, an air +from "Joseph" and one from "Richard the Lion Hearted." + +Although I was only a little boy and was no judge as to whether one sang +with technique or without, Vitalis' singing stirred me strangely. I went +into a corner of the stage, for my eyes filled with tears as I listened +to his beautiful notes. + +Through a mist, I saw a young lady, who occupied the first row, clap her +hands with all her might. I had already noticed that she was not a +peasant like the rest of the people in the hall. She was a lady, young +and beautiful, and from her handsome fur coat I took her to be the +richest woman in the village. She had with her a little child who had +applauded Capi heartily. It was probably her son for the likeness was +striking. + +After the first song, Capi went the round again. I saw with surprise +that the lady had not put anything into his cup. + +When my master had finished the air from the second opera, she beckoned +me to her. + +"I want to speak to that gentleman," she said. + +I was surprised, I thought she would have done better to have dropped +something into the cup. Capi returned. He had collected very little more +on this second round. + +"What does the lady want?" asked Vitalis. + +"To speak to you." + +"I have nothing to say." + +"She did not give anything to Capi, perhaps she would like to give it +now." + +"Then it is for Capi to go to her, not for me." + +However, he decided to go, and took the dog with him. I followed them. +By now a servant had appeared, carrying a lantern and a rug. He stood +beside the lady and the child. Vitalis bowed coldly to her. + +"Forgive me for having disturbed you," she said, "but I wanted to +congratulate you." + +Vitalis bowed, without saying a word. + +"I am a musician," continued the lady; "I am telling you this so that +you will know how much I appreciate your superb talent." + +Superb talent! My master! The dog trainer! I was amazed. + +"An old man like me has no talent," he replied coldly. + +"Do not think that I am inquisitive, but...." began the lady. + +"I am quite willing to satisfy your curiosity, Madam," he said; "you are +surprised that a dog trainer is able to sing a little. But I have not +always been what I am now. When I was younger I was ... the servant of a +great singer, and like a parrot I imitated him. I began to repeat some +of the songs he practiced in my presence. That is all." + +The lady did not reply. She looked hard at Vitalis. He seemed +embarrassed. + +"Good-by, sir," she said at last, laying a stress on the word "sir." +"Good-by, and once more let me thank you for the exquisite delight you +have given me this evening." And leaning towards Capi she dropped a gold +piece in his cup. + +I thought that Vitalis would escort her to the door, but he did nothing +of the kind, and when she was out of hearing I heard him swear softly in +Italian. + +"She gave Capi a louis," I said. + +I thought he was going to give me a blow, but he let his raised hand +fall to his side. + +"A louis," he said, as though he were coming out of a dream. "Ah, yes, +poor Pretty-Heart. I had forgotten him. Let us go back to the little +creature at once." + +I climbed the stairs of the inn first and went into the room. The fire +was not out, but there were no flames. I lit a candle quickly. I was +surprised not to hear any sound from Pretty-Heart. I found him, lying +under his coverlets, stretched out his full length, dressed in his +general's uniform. He appeared to be asleep. I leaned over him and took +his hand gently to wake him up. His hand was cold. Vitalis came into the +room. I turned to him. + +"Pretty-Heart is cold," I said. + +My master came to my side and also leaned over the bed. + +"He is dead," he said. "It was to be. Ah, Remi, boy, I did wrong to take +you away from Mrs. Milligan. I am punished. Zerbino, Dulcie, and now +Pretty-Heart and ... this is not the end!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +FAITHFUL FRIENDS + + +We were still a long way from Paris. We had to go by roads covered with +snow, and walk from morning till night, the north wind blowing in our +faces. How sad and weary were those long tramps. + +Vitalis walked ahead, I at his heels, and Capi behind me. Thus in line +we went onward without exchanging a word, for hours and hours, faces +blue with cold, feet wet, stomachs empty. The people who passed us on +the way turned round to gaze at us. Evidently they thought it +strange.... Where was this old man leading his child and the dog? + +The silence seemed terrible to me, and so sad. I would liked to have +talked just for company, but when I did venture to make a remark, +Vitalis replied briefly, without even turning his head. Fortunately, +Capi was more sociable, and as I trudged along I often felt his warm +tongue on my hand. He licked me as much as to say, "Your friend, Capi, +is here with you." Then I stroked him gently, without stopping. We +understood each other; we loved each other. + +On the slippery snow we went straight ahead, without stopping, sleeping +at night in a stable or in a sheepfold, with a piece of bread, alas, +very small, for our meal in the evening. This was our dinner and supper +in one. + +We did not tell the shepherds that we were dying of hunger, but Vitalis, +with his usual cleverness, would say insinuatingly that "the little chap +was very fond of sheep's milk, because, when he was a baby, he used to +drink it." This story did not always take effect, but it was a good +night for me when it did. Yes, I was very fond of sheep's milk and when +they gave me some I felt much stronger the next day. + +It seemed strange to me that, as we neared Paris, the country ceased to +be beautiful. The snow was not white and dazzling now. I had heard what +a wonderful place Paris was, and I expected something extraordinary. I +did not know exactly what. I should not have been surprised to see trees +of gold, streets of marble, palaces everywhere. + +What were we poor things going to do when we reached Paris? I wanted to +question Vitalis, but I did not dare, he seemed so gloomy. When we were +in sight of the roofs and the church towers of the capital, he slackened +his step to walk beside me. + +"Remi," he said suddenly, "we are going to part when we get to Paris." + +I looked at him. He looked at me. The sudden pallor of my face and the +trembling of my lips told him what effect his words had on me. For a +moment I could not speak. + +"Going to part!" I murmured at last. + +"Poor little chap, yes, we must part." + +The tone in which he said this brought the tears to my eyes. It was so +long since I had heard a kind word. + +"Oh, you are so good," I cried. + +"It is you who are good. You brave little heart. There comes a time in +one's life when one feels these things. When all goes well, one goes +along through life without thinking much who is with one, but when +things go wrong, when one is on the wrong track, and above all when one +is old, one wants to lean on somebody. You may be surprised that I have +wanted to lean on you. And yet it is so. But only to see that your eyes +are moist as you listen to me, comforts me, little Remi. I am very +unhappy." + +I did not know what to say. I just stroked his hand. + +"And the misfortune is that we have to part just at the time when we are +getting nearer to each other." + +"But you're not going to leave me all alone in Paris?" I asked timidly. + +"No, certainly not. What would you do in the big city, all by yourself, +poor child. I have no right to leave you, remember that. The day when I +would not let that good lady take you and bring you up as her son, that +day I bound myself to do the best I could for you. I can do nothing at +this moment, and that is why I think it is best to part. It is only for +a time. We can do better if we separate during the last months of the +bad season. What can we do in Paris with all gone but Capi?" + +Hearing his name mentioned, dear Capi came beside us: he put his paw to +his ear in military salute, then placed it on his heart, as though to +tell us that we could count on his devotion. My master stopped to pass +his hand affectionately over the dog's head. + +"Yes, Capi, you're a good, faithful friend, but, alas! without the +others we can't do much now." + +"But my harp...." + +"If I had two children like you it would be better. But an old man with +just one little boy is bad business. I am not old enough. Now, if I were +only blind or broken down! I am not in a pitiful state enough for people +to stop and notice us. So, my boy, I have decided to give you to a +_padrone_, until the end of the winter. He will take you with other +children that he has, and you will play your harp...." + +"And you?" I asked. + +"I am known in Paris, I have stayed there several times. I will give +violin lessons to the Italian children who play on the streets. I have +only to say that I will give lessons to find all the pupils I want. And, +in the meantime, I will train two dogs that will replace poor Zerbino +and Dulcie. Then in the spring we will be together again, my little +Remi. We are only passing through a bad time now; later, I will take you +through Germany and England, then you will grow big and your mind will +develop. I will teach you a lot of things and make a man of you. I +promised this to Mrs. Milligan. I will keep my promise. That is the +reason why I have already commenced to teach you English. You can speak +French and Italian, that is something for a child of your age." + +Perhaps it was all for the best as my master said, but I could only +think of two things. + +We were to be parted, and I was to have a _padrone_. + +During our wanderings I had met several _padrones_ who used to beat the +children who worked for them. They were very cruel, and they swore, and +usually they were drunk. Would I belong to one of those terrible men? + +And then, even if fate gave me a kind master, it was another change. +First, my foster mother, then Vitalis, then another.... Was it to be +always so? Should I never find anyone that I could love and stay with +always? Little by little I had grown attached to Vitalis. He seemed +almost what I thought a father would be. Should I never have a father, +have a family? Always alone in this great world! Nobody's boy! + +Vitalis had asked me to be brave. I did not wish to add to his sorrows, +but it was hard, so hard, to leave him. + +As we walked down a dirty street, with heaps of snow on either side +covered with cinders and rotten vegetables, I asked: "Where are we?" + +"In Paris, my boy." + +Where were my marble houses? And the trees of gold, and the finely +dressed people. Was this Paris! Was I to spend the winter in a place +like this, parted from Vitalis and Capi? + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE PADRONE + + +Although I knew later how beautiful was the city of Paris, the slums, +being my first glimpse, created anything but a favorable impression. + +Vitalis, who seemed to know his way, pushed through the groups of people +who obstructed his passage along the narrow street we had just turned +down. + +"Mind, you don't lose me," cautioned Vitalis. + +But his warning was not necessary, for I trod upon his heels, and to be +more sure of him I held a corner of his coat in my hand. + +We crossed a big courtyard to a dirty, dismal house where surely the sun +had never penetrated. It was the worst looking place I had seen so far. + +"Is Garofoli in?" asked Vitalis of a man who, by the light from a +lantern, was hanging rags against the door. + +"I don't know; go up and see for yourself," he growled; "the door's at +the top of the stairs; it faces you." + +"Garofoli is the _padrone_, Remi, I told you about," said Vitalis; "this +is where he lives." + +The street, the house, the staircase was not in the nature to reassure +me. What would this new master be like? + +Without knocking, Vitalis pushed open the door at the top of the stairs, +on the top floor, and we found ourselves in a large attic. There was a +great empty space in the middle of the room, and all around the walls +were beds, a dozen in all. The walls and ceiling that had once been +white were now filthy with smoke, dust, and dirt. On the walls was a +drawing of a head in charcoal and some flowers and birds. + +"Are you there, Garofoli?" asked Vitalis; "it is so dark I can't see any +one. It's Vitalis." + +A weak, drawling voice replied to Vitalis' question. + +"Signor Garofoli has gone out; he will not be back for two hours." + +A boy about twelve years of age came forward. I was struck by his +strange looks. Even now, as I write, I can see him as I saw him then. He +had no body, so to speak, for he seemed all legs and head. His great +head was out of all proportion. Built so, he could not have been called +handsome, yet there was something in his face which attracted one +strangely, an expression of sadness and gentleness and, yes ... +hopelessness. His large eyes held your own with sympathy. + +"You are sure he will not be back for two hours?" asked Vitalis. + +"Quite sure, Signor. That will be dinner time, and no one ever serves +dinner but Signor Garofoli." + +"Well, if he comes in before, tell him that Vitalis will be back in two +hours." + +"Very well, Signor." + +I was about to follow Vitalis, when he stopped me. + +"Stay here," he said; "you can rest. + +"Oh, I'll come back," he added, reassuringly, noticing my look of +anxiety. + +"Are you Italian?" asked the boy, when Vitalis' heavy step could no +longer be heard on the stairs. + +"No," I replied in French, "I'm French." + +"That's a good thing." + +"What! you like the French better than the Italians?" + +"Oh, no, I was thinking of you when I said 'that's a good thing,' +because if you were Italian you would probably come here to work for +Signor Garofoli, and I'd be sorry for you." + +"Is he wicked, then?" + +The boy did not reply, but the look he gave me spoke more than words. As +though he did not wish to continue the conversation, he went over to the +fireplace. On a shelf in the fireplace was an immense earthenware +saucepan. I drew nearer to the fire to warm myself, and I noticed that +the pot had something peculiar about it. The lid, through which a +straight tube projected to allow the steam to escape, was fixed on the +saucepan on one side with a hinge and on the other with a padlock. + +"Why is that closed with a padlock?" I asked, inquisitively. + +"So that I shan't take any of the soup. I have to look after it, but +the boss doesn't trust me." + +I could not help smiling. + +"You laugh," he said sadly, "because you think that I'm a glutton. +Perhaps, if you were in my place, you'd do the same as I've done. I'm +not a pig, but I'm famished, and the smell of the soup as it comes out +through the spout makes me still hungrier." + +"Doesn't Signor Garofoli give you enough to eat?" + +"He starves us...." + +"Oh...." + +"I'll tell you what I have done," went on the boy, "'cause if he's going +to be your master, it will be a lesson for you. My name is Mattia. +Garofoli is my uncle. My mother, who lives in Lucca in Italy, is very +poor and has only enough for herself and my little sister, Christina. +When Garofoli came to beautiful Lucca last year he brought me back with +him. Oh, it was hard to leave my little sister.... Signor Garofoli has a +lot of boys here, some of them are chimney sweeps, others rag pickers, +and those who are not strong enough to work, sing in the streets or beg. +Garofoli gave me two little white mice to show to the public and I had +to bring him back thirty sous every night. As many sous as you are short +a day, so many blows you get. It is hard to pick up thirty sous, but the +blows are hard, too, especially when it's Garofoli who gives them. So I +did everything that I could to get the money, but I was often short. +Nearly all the other boys had their money when they returned at night, +but I scarcely ever had mine and Garofoli was mad! There is another boy +here, who also shows mice, and he's taxed forty sous, and he brings that +sum back every night. Several times I went out with him to see how he +made it...." + +He paused. + +"Well?" I asked. + +"Oh, the ladies always said, 'Give it to the pretty little one, not the +ugly boy.' The ugly one, of course, was I; so I did not go out with him +any more. A blow hurts, but it hurts more to have things like that said, +and before a lot of people! You don't know that because no one has ever +told you that you are ugly. Well, when Garofoli saw that beating me +didn't do any good, he tried another way. Each night he took away some +of my supper. It's hard, but I can't say to the people in the streets, +who are watching my mice: 'Give me something or I won't get any supper +to-night!' They don't give for that reason." + +"Why do they give?" + +"Because you are pretty and nice, or because you remind them of a little +boy they've lost, not because they think you're hungry. Oh, I know their +ways. Say, ain't it cold to-day?" + +"Awful cold." + +"I didn't get fat on begging," went on the boy. "I got so pale and then, +after a time, I often heard people say: 'That poor child is starving to +death.' A suffering look does what good looks can't do. But you have to +be very starved for that. They used to give me food. That was a good +time for me, because Garofoli had stopped giving me blows just then to +see if it would hurt me more to go without supper, so when I got +something to eat outside I didn't care. But one day Garofoli came along +and saw me eating something, a bowl of soup that the fruiterer gave me, +then he knew why I didn't mind going without supper at home. After that +he made me stay at home and look after the soup here. Every morning +before he goes out he puts the meat and the vegetables into the saucepan +and locks the lid on, and all I have to do is to see that it boils. I +smell the soup, but that's all. The smell of the soup doesn't feed you; +it makes you more hungry. Am I very white? As I never go out now I don't +hear people say so, and there's no mirror here." + +"You don't seem any paler than others," I said. + +"Ah, you say that because you don't want to frighten me, but I'm glad +I'm sick. I want to be very ill." + +I looked at him in amazement. + +"You don't understand," he said, with a pitiful smile. "When one is very +ill, they take care of you or they let you die. If they let me die it +will be all over, I shan't be hungry any more, and there'll be no more +beatings. And they do say that when we die we go up and live with God. +Then, if I'm up there, I can look down on Mamma and Christina, and I +can ask God not to let my little sister be unhappy. Also, if they send +me to the Hospital, I shall be pleased." + +The Hospital! No matter how sick I felt while tramping across the +country, if I thought I might be sent to the hospital I always found +strength to go on. + +"I'm quite ill now, but not ill enough to be in Garofoli's way," he went +on in his weak, drawling voice, "but I'm getting weaker. Garofoli, +fortunately, hasn't given up beating me entirely. He beat me on the head +eight days ago and, look, it's all swelled out now. You see here, this +big bump? He told me yesterday it was a tumor, and the way that he spoke +I believe that it's something serious. It hurts awful. I'm so giddy at +night when I put my head on the pillow I moan and cry. So I think in two +or three days he'll decide to send me to the hospital. I was in the +hospital once, and the Sisters speak so kind to you. They say, 'Put out +your tongue, little boy,' and 'There's a good boy,' every time you do +anything they tell you to do. I think I am almost had enough now to be +sent there." + +He came and stood quite close to me, fixing his great eyes on me. Even +though I had not the same reason for hiding the truth from him, I did +not like to tell him how terrible he looked with his great glittering +eyes, his hollow cheeks, and his bloodless lips. + +"I should think you're ill enough to go to the hospital," I said. + +"At last!" + +With dragging limbs he went slowly over to the table and began to wipe +it. + +"Garofoli will be here shortly," he said; "we mustn't talk any more." + +Wearily he went round the table, placing the plates and spoons. I +counted twenty plates. So Garofoli had twenty boys. As I only saw twelve +beds, they evidently slept, some of them, two in a bed. What beds! what +sheets! the coverlets must have been brought from the stables when they +were too old and not warm enough for the horses! + +"Don't you come here," said the boy, "Try to get somewhere else." + +"Where?" + +"I don't know. No matter where, you'd be better than here." + +The door opened and a child came into the room. He carried a violin +under his arm and a big piece of wood in his hand. + +"Give me that bit of wood," said Mattia, going up to the child. + +But the little fellow held the piece of wood behind his back. + +"No," he said. + +"Give it me for the fire; the soup'll be better." + +"Do you think I brought it for the soup? I've only made thirty-six sous +to-day and I thought this bit of wood might save me a beating. It's to +make up for the four sous I'm short." + +"You'll have to pay. Each in his turn." + +Mattia said this mechanically, as though the thought of the boy being +punished gave him satisfaction. I was surprised to see a hard look come +into his soft, sad eyes. I knew later that if you live with wicked +people you get to be like them in time. + +One by one the boys returned; each one as he came in hung his instrument +on a nail above his bed. Those who were not musicians, but simply +exhibitors of trained animals, put their mice and guinea pigs into a +cage. + +Then a heavy step sounded on the stairs and a little man wearing a gray +overcoat came into the room. It was Garofoli. The moment he entered he +fixed his eyes on me with a look that scared me. Mattia quickly and +politely gave him Vitalis' message. + +"Ah, so Vitalis is here," he said; "what does he want?" + +"I don't know," replied Mattia. + +"I'm not speaking to you, I'm speaking to this boy." + +"He is coming back and he will tell you himself what he wants," I +replied. + +"Ah, here's a little fellow who knows the value of words. You're not +Italian?" + +"No, I'm French." + +The moment Garofoli entered the room two small boys took their places, +one on each side of him, and were waiting until he had finished +speaking. Then one took his felt hat and placed it carefully on the bed, +and the other brought forward a chair. They did this with the same +gravity and respect that a choir boy waits upon a priest. When Garofoli +was seated another little boy brought him a pipe stuffed with tobacco, +and a fourth offered him a lighted match. + +"It smells of sulphur, animal," he cried, throwing it in the grate. + +The culprit hastened to repair his mistake; lighting another match he +let it burn for a time before offering it to his master. But Garofoli +would not accept it. + +"No, you imbecile," he said, pushing the boy aside roughly. Then he +turned to another child and said with an ingratiating smile: + +"Ricardo, dearie, bring a match." + +The "dearie" hastened to obey. + +"Now," said Garofoli, when he was comfortably installed and his pipe +burning; "now to business, my little angels. Bring the book, Mattia." + +Garofoli made a sign to the boy who had lit the first match. + +"You owe me a sou from yesterday; you promised to bring it to-day. How +much have you brought?" + +The child hesitated for a long time, his face showing distress, "I'm +one sou short," he said at last. + +"Ah, you're one sou short." + +"It's not the sou for yesterday; it's a sou for to-day." + +"That makes two sous! I've never seen the like of you!" + +"It's not my fault." + +"No excuses. You know the rules. Undo your coat; two blows for +yesterday, two for to-day, and no supper, for your impudence. Ricardo, +dearie, you're a good boy and you deserve some recreation. Take the +strap." + +Ricardo, the child who had lit the second match, took down from the wall +a short-handled whip with two leather-knotted straps. Meanwhile, the boy +who was short two sous was unfastening his coat. Then he dropped his +shirt, baring his body to the waist. + +"Wait a minute," said Garofoli, with an ugly smile; "you won't be the +only one, perhaps; it's always pleasant to have a companion." + +The children stood motionless before their master. At his cruel joke +they all forced a laugh. + +"The one who laughed most is the one who is short the most," said +Garofoli; "I'm sure of that. Who laughed the loudest?" + +All pointed to the boy who had come home first, bringing his piece of +wood. + +"How much are you short, you there?" demanded Garofoli. + +"It's not my fault." + +"And the one who says 'it's not my fault' will get an extra cut. How +much is missing?" + +"I brought back a big piece of wood, a beautiful piece of wood...." + +"That's something. But go to the baker's and ask him to exchange your +wood for bread, will he do it? How many sous are you missing? Speak +out!" + +"I've made thirty-six sous." + +"You're four short, you rogue. And you can stand there before me like +that! Down with your shirt! Ricardo, dearie, you're going to have a good +time." + +"But the bit of wood?" cried the boy. + +"I'll give it to you for supper." + +This cruel joke made all the children who were not to be punished laugh. +All the other boys were then questioned as to how much they had brought +home. Ricardo stood with whip in hand until five victims were placed in +a row before him. + +"You know, Ricardo," said Garofoli, "I don't like to look on, because a +scene like this always makes me feel ill. But I can hear, and from the +noise I am able to judge the strength of your blows. Go at it heartily, +dearie; you are working for your bread." + +He turned towards the fire, as though it were impossible for him to +witness this chastisement. + +I, in my corner, trembled with indignation and fear. This was the man +who was going to be my master. If I did not bring him back the thirty +or forty sous that he demanded of me, I should have to be whipped by +Ricardo. Ah, I understood now how Mattia could speak of death so calmly. + +[Illustration: "FOR EACH CRY YOU WILL RECEIVE ANOTHER SLASH."] + +The first lash of the whip, as it cut into the flesh, made the tears +spring to my eyes. I thought that I was forgotten, but I made a mistake; +Garofoli was looking at me out of the corner of his eye. + +"There's a boy with a heart," he said, pointing to me; "he is not like +you other rogues; you laugh when you see your comrades suffer. Take this +little comrade for an example." + +I trembled from head to foot. Their comrade! + +At the second blow the victim uttered a wail, at the third a piercing +shriek. Garofoli lifted his hand; Ricardo stopped with raised whip. I +thought Garofoli was going to show mercy, but it was not so. + +"You know how much it hurts me to hear you cry," said Garofoli, gently, +addressing the victim. "You know that if the whip tears your skin, your +cries pierce my heart. So then I warn you that for each cry you will +receive another slash, and it will be your own fault. If you have any +affection or gratitude you will keep silent. Go on, Ricardo." + +Ricardo raised his arm and the strap curled on the backs of the victims. + +"Oh, Mamma, Mamma," cried one. + +Thank God, I saw no more of this frightful torture, for at this moment +the door was thrown open and Vitalis entered. + +In a glance, he understood all. He had heard the shrieks while climbing +the stairs. Running to Ricardo, he snatched the whip from him, then, +wheeling round upon Garofoli, he stood before him with folded arms. + +It all happened so quickly that, for a moment, I was dumbfounded, but +Garofoli quickly recovered himself and said gently: + +"Isn't it terrible? That child has no heart." + +"Shame! It's a shame!" cried Vitalis. + +"That is just what I say," murmured Garofoli. + +"Stop that," commanded Vitalis; "it's you, not the child! What a +cowardly shame to torture these poor children who cannot defend +themselves." + +"Don't you meddle in what does not concern you, you old fool," cried +Garofoli, changing his tone. + +"It concerns the police," retorted Vitalis. + +"You threaten me with the police, do you?" cried Garofoli. + +"Yes, I do," replied my master, nowise intimidated by the bully's fury. + +"Ah, Vitalis," he hissed, "so you'll talk? Well, I can talk also. Your +affairs do not concern me, but there are others who are interested in +you and if I tell, if I say one name.... Ah, who will have to hide his +head in shame?" + +My master was silent. Shame! His shame! I was amazed, but before I had +time to think, he had taken me by the hand. + +"Come, Remi," he said. And he drew me to the door. + +"Oh," cried Garofoli, now laughing, "I thought you wanted to talk to me, +old fellow." + +"I have nothing to say to you." + +Then, without another word, we went down the stairs, he still holding me +tightly by the hand. With what relief I followed him! I had escaped from +that tyrant! If I had dared I would have thrown my arms around Vitalis' +neck. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +POOR VITALIS + + +While we were in the street Vitalis said not a word, but soon we came to +a narrow alley and he sat down on a mile-stone and passed his hand +several times across his forehead. + +"It may be fine to listen to the voice of generosity," he said, as +though speaking to himself, "but now we're in the gutters of Paris, +without a sou; not a bite to eat.... Are you hungry?" he asked, looking +up at me. + +"I haven't eaten anything since that little roll you gave me this +morning." + +"Poor, poor child, and you'll have to go to bed to-night without supper. +And where are we going to sleep?" + +"Did you count on sleeping at Garofoli's, then?" + +"I counted upon you sleeping there, and as he would have given me twenty +francs for you for the winter, I could have managed for the time being. +But, seeing the way he treated those children, I could not give you to +him." + +"Oh, you are so good!" + +"Perhaps in this old, hardened vagabond there is still a bit of the +young man's heart left. This old vagabond calculated shrewdly, but the +young man still in him upset all.... Now, where to go?" he murmured. + +It was already late and the cold had increased. It was going to be a +hard night. For a long time Vitalis sat on the stone. Capi and I stood +silently before, waiting until he had come to some decision. Finally he +rose. + +"Where are we going?" + +"To Gentilly, to try and find a race-course where I've slept sometimes. +Are you tired?" + +"I rested at Garofoli's." + +"The pity is that I haven't rested, and I can't do much more. But we +must get along. Forward! March! Children!" + +This was his good humor signal for the dogs and myself when we were +about to start, but this night he said it sadly. + +Here we were, wandering in the streets of Paris; the night was dark and +the gas jets, which flickered in the wind, lit the alleys but dimly. At +each step we slipped on the ice-covered pavement. Vitalis held me by the +hand, and Capi followed at our heels. From time to time, the poor dog +stopped behind to look amongst a heap of garbage to see if he could find +a bone or a crust, for he was oh, so hungry, but the garbage was covered +with frozen snow and he searched in vain. With drooping ears he trotted +on to catch up with us. + +After the big streets, more alleys; after the alleys, more big streets; +we walked on, and on; the few pedestrians that we met stared at us in +astonishment. Was it our costumes? Was it the tired way we plodded along +which arrested their attention? The policemen that we passed turned +round and followed us with a glance. + +Without saying a word, Vitalis tramped on, his back almost bent double, +but despite the cold, his hand burned in mine. It seemed to me that he +was trembling. Sometimes, when he stopped to lean for a minute against +my shoulder, I felt all his body shaken with trembling. Ordinarily, I +would not dare to have questioned him, but I felt I must to-night. +Besides, I had a great wish to tell him how much I loved him or, at +least, that I wanted to do something for him. + +"You are ill?" I said, when he stopped again. + +"I'm afraid so; anyway, I'm very tired. This cold is too severe for my +old blood. I need a good bed and a supper before a fire. But that's a +dream. Forward! March! Children." + +Forward! March! We had left the city behind us; we were now in the +suburbs. We saw no people or policemen or street lights, only a lighted +window here and there, and over our heads the dark-blue sky dotted with +a few stars. The wind, which blew more bitter and more violently, stuck +our clothing to our bodies. Fortunately, it was at our backs, but as the +sleeves of my coat were all torn near the shoulders, it blew in and +slipped along my arms, chilling me to the bone. + +Although it was dark and the streets continually crossed each other, +Vitalis walked like a man who knows his way, and was perfectly sure of +his road. So I followed, feeling sure that we should not lose ourselves. +Suddenly, he stopped. + +"Do you see a group of trees?" he asked. + +"I don't see anything." + +"You don't see a big black mass?" + +I looked on all sides before answering. I saw no trees or houses. Space +all around us. There was no other sound save the whistle of the wind. + +"See, down there!" He stretched out his right hand before him, then, as +I did not reply, for I was afraid to say that I saw nothing, he trudged +on again. + +Some minutes passed in silence; then he stopped once more and asked me +if I did not see a group of trees. A vague fear made my voice tremble +when I replied that I saw nothing. + +"It is fear, my boy, that makes your eyes dance; look again." + +"I tell you, I do not see any trees." + +"Not on the big road?" + +"I can't see anything." + +"We've made a mistake." + +I could say nothing, for I did not know where we were, nor where we were +going. + +"Let us walk for another five minutes and, if we do not see the trees, +we will come back here. I might have made a mistake on the road." + +Now that I knew that we had gone astray, I seemed to have no more +strength left. Vitalis pulled me by the arm. + +"Come, come." + +"I can't walk any farther." + +"Ah, and do you think I'm going to carry you?" + +I followed him. + +"Are there any deep ruts in the road?" + +"No." + +"Then we must turn back." + +We turned. Now we faced the wind. It stung our faces like a lash. It +seemed that my face was being scorched with a flame. + +"We have to take a road leading from the cross-roads," said my master +feebly; "tell me when you see it." + +For a quarter of an hour we went on, struggling against the wind; in the +doleful silence of the night the noise of our footsteps echoed on the +dry, hard earth. Although scarcely able to put one foot before the +other, it was I who dragged Vitalis. How anxiously I looked to the left! +In the dark shadows I suddenly saw a little red light. + +"See, there's a light," I said, pointing. + +"Where?" + +Vitalis looked; although the light was but a short distance off, he saw +nothing. I knew then that his sight was going. + +"What is that light to us?" he asked; "it is a lamp burning on the table +of some worker, or it's near the bed of a dying person. We cannot go +and knock at those doors. Away in the country, during the night, you +can ask hospitality, but so near Paris ... we must not expect +hospitality here. Come." + +A few steps more and I thought I could make out the cross-roads and a +black mass which must be the trees. I let go of my master's hand to go +ahead quicker. There were deep ruts in the road. + +"See, here are the ruts?" I cried. + +"Give me your hand, we are saved," said Vitalis; "look, now you can see +the group of trees." + +I told him that I thought I could see the trees. + +"In five minutes we shall be there," he murmured. + +We trudged along, but the five minutes seemed an eternity. + +"Where are the ruts?" + +"They are still on the right." + +"We must have passed the entrance to the race-course without seeing it. +I think we'd better go back." + +Once more we turned back. + +"Do you see the trees?" + +"Yes, there on the left." + +"And the ruts?" + +"There are not any." + +"Am I blind?" asked Vitalis in a low voice, as he passed his hands +across his eyes; "walk straight along by the trees, and give me your +hand." + +"Here is a wall." + +"No, it's a heap of stones." + +"No, I am sure it's a wall." + +Vitalis took a step aside to see if it really was as I said. He +stretched out his two hands and touched the wall. + +"Yes, it's a wall," he murmured. "Where is the entrance. Look for the +track." + +I stooped down to the ground and felt all along to the end of the wall, +but I found no entrance; then, turning back to where Vitalis stood, I +continued to feel along the wall on the other side. The result was the +same; there was no opening, no gate. + +"There is nothing," I said. + +The situation was terrible. Without doubt my master was delirious. +Perhaps there was no race-course here at all! Vitalis stood for a moment +as though in a dream. Capi began to bark impatiently. + +"Shall we look further?" I asked. + +"No, the race-course is walled up." + +"Walled up?" + +"Yes, they have closed the opening, and it is impossible for us to get +inside." + +"Well, then?" + +"What to do, eh? I don't know. Die here." + +"Oh, Master! Master!" + +"Yes, you don't want to die, you are so young. Life seems good to you. +Let us walk on. Can you still walk a bit further, my child." + +"Oh, but you?" + +"When I can go no farther, I shall fall down like an old horse." + +"Where shall we go?" + +"Return to Paris. When we meet a policeman we will let him take us to +the police station. I did not want that, but I cannot let you die of +cold, boy. Come, little Remi, come. On, my children. Courage!" + +We turned back the same way that we had come. What time was it? I had no +idea. We had walked for hours, a long, long time, and so slowly. Perhaps +it was midnight or one o'clock. The sky was still a somber blue, without +moon, and with but few stars, and the few that had appeared seemed to me +to be smaller than usual. The wind had increased; the snow beat in our +faces; the houses that we passed were closed for the night. It seemed to +me that if the people who slept there, warmly beneath the sheets, knew +how cold we were outside, they would have opened their doors to us. + +Vitalis walked slower and slower; when I spoke to him he made a sign to +me to be silent. We were now nearing the city. Vitalis stopped. I knew +that he had come to the end of his strength. + +"Shall I knock at one of the doors?" I asked. + +"No, they will not let us in. They are gardeners who live here. They +supply the market. They would not get up at this hour to take us in. Let +us go on." + +But he had more will than strength. After a moment he stopped again. + +"I must rest a little," he said, feebly; "I can't go on." + +There was a gate leading to a big garden. The wind had blown a lot of +straw, that covered a manure heap near the gate, into the street. + +"I am going to sit here," said Vitalis. + +"You said that if we sat down we should get too cold to get up again." + +He made no reply, but signed for me to heap up the straw against the +door; then he fell, rather than sat down upon it. His teeth chattered +and all his body shook. + +"Bring some more straw," he said; "with a lot of straw we can keep the +wind from us." + +The wind, yes, but not the cold. When I had gathered up all the straw +that I could, I sat down beside Vitalis. + +"Come quite close to me," he said, "and lift Capi on your lap. He will +give you some warmth from his body." + +Vitalis was ill. Did he know how ill? As I crept close up against him, +he bent over and kissed me. That was the second time he had kissed me. +Alas! it was the last. + +Scarcely had I cuddled up against Vitalis than I felt my eyes close. I +tried to keep them open, but I could not. I pinched my arms, but there +was no feeling in my flesh. On my legs, which were drawn up to my chest, +Capi slept already. The wind blew the wisps of straw upon us like dried +leaves that fall from a tree. There was not a soul in the street, and +around us was the silence of death. + +This silence frightened me. Of what was I afraid? I did not know, but a +vague fear came over me. It seemed to me that I was dying there. And +then I felt very sad. I thought of Chavanon, of poor Mother Barberin. +Must I die without seeing her again, and our little house, and my little +garden! Then, I was no longer cold; it seemed that I was back in my +little garden. The sun was shining and was so warm. The jonquils were +opening their golden petals; the birds were singing in the trees and on +the hedges. Yes, and Mother Barberin was hanging out the clothes that +she had just washed in the brook, which rippled over the pebbles. Then I +left Chavanon, and joined Arthur and Mrs. Milligan on the _Swan_. Then +my eyes closed again, my heart seemed to grow heavy, and I remembered no +more. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +NEW FRIENDS + + +When I awoke I was in a bed, and the flames from a big fire lit up the +room in which I was lying. I had never seen this room before, nor the +people who stood near the bed. There was a man in a gray smock and +clogs, and three or four children. One, which I noticed particularly, +was a little girl about six years old, with great big eyes that were so +expressive they seemed as though they could speak. + +I raised myself on my elbow. They all came closer. + +"Vitalis?" I asked. + +"He is asking for his father," said a girl, who seemed to be the eldest +of the children. + +"He is not my father; he is my master," I said; "where is he? where's +Capi?" + +If Vitalis had been my father they perhaps would have broken the news to +me gently, but as he was only my master, they thought that they could +tell me the truth at once. + +They told me that my poor master was dead. The gardener, who lived on +the grounds outside of which we had fallen exhausted, had found us early +the next morning, when he and his son were starting off with their +vegetables and flowers to the markets. They found us lying, huddled +together in the snow, with a little covering of their straw over us. +Vitalis was already dead, and I should have died but Capi had crept up +to my chest and kept my heart warm. They had carried us into the house +and I had been placed in one of the children's warm beds. + +"And Capi?" I asked, when the gardener stopped talking. + +"Capi?" + +"Yes, the dog." + +"I don't know, he's disappeared." + +"He followed the body," said one of the children. "Didn't you see him, +Benjamin?" + +"Should say I did," answered another boy; "he walked behind the men who +carried the stretcher. He kept his head down, and now and again he +jumped up on the body, and when they made him get down he moaned and +howled something terrible." + +Poor Capi! how many times, as an actor, had he not followed Zerbino's +funeral. Even the most serious children had been obliged to laugh at his +display of grief. The more he moaned, the more they had laughed. + +The gardener and his children left me alone. Not knowing quite what to +do or what I was going to do, I got up and dressed. My harp had been +placed at the foot of the bed upon which I was lying. I passed the strap +over my shoulder and went into the room where the family were. I should +have to go, but where? While in bed I had not felt very weak, but now I +could scarcely stand; I was obliged to hold on to a chair to keep from +falling. The odor of the soup was too much for me. I was reminded +brutally that I had eaten nothing the night before. I felt faint, and +staggering, I dropped into a chair by the fire. + +"Don't you feel well, my boy?" asked the gardener. + +I told him that I did not feel very well, and I asked him to let me sit +by the fire for a little while. + +But it was not the heat that I wanted; it was food. I felt weaker as I +watched the family take their soup. If I had dared, I would have asked +for a bowl, but Vitalis had taught me not to beg. I could not tell them +I was hungry. Why? I don't know, quite, unless it was that I could not +ask for anything that I was unable to return. + +The little girl with the strange look in her eyes, and whose name was +Lise, sat opposite to me. Suddenly, she got up from the table and, +taking her bowl which was full of soup, she brought it over to me and +placed it on my knees. Weakly, for I could no longer speak, I nodded my +head to thank her. The father did not give me time to speak even if I +had been able. + +"Take it, my boy," he said. "What Lise gives is given with a kind heart. +There is more if you want more." + +If I want more! The bowl of soup was swallowed in a few seconds. When I +put down the soup, Lise, who had remained standing before me, heaved a +little sigh of content. Then she took my bowl and held it out to her +father to have it refilled, and when it was full she brought it to me +with such a sweet smile, that in spite of my hunger, I sat staring at +her, without thinking to take it from her. The second bowlful +disappeared promptly like the first. It was no longer a smile that +curved Lise's pretty lips; she burst out laughing. + +"Well, my boy," said her father, "you've got an appetite and no +mistake." + +I was much ashamed, but after a moment I thought it better to confess +the truth than to be thought a glutton, so I told them that I had not +had any supper the night before. + +"And dinner?" + +"No dinner, either." + +"And your master?" + +"He hadn't eaten, either." + +"Then he died as much from starvation as from cold." + +The hot soup had given me strength. I got up to go. + +"Where are you going?" asked the father. + +"I don't know." + +"Got any friends or relations in Paris?" + +"No." + +"Where do you live?" + +"We hadn't any home. We only got to the city yesterday." + +"What are you going to do, then?" + +"Play my harp and get a little money." + +"In Paris? You had better return to your parents in the country. Where +do they live?" + +"I haven't any parents. My master bought me from my foster parents. You +have been good to me and I thank you with all my heart and, if you like, +I'll come back here on Sunday and play my harp while you dance." + +While speaking I had walked towards the door, but I had only taken a few +steps when Lise, who followed me, took my hand and pointed to my harp. + +"You want me to play now?" I asked, smiling at her. + +She nodded and clapped her hands. + +Although I had no heart to play, I played my prettiest waltz for this +little girl. At first she listened with her big, beautiful eyes fixed on +me, then she began to keep time with her feet, and very soon was dancing +gayly round the kitchen, while her brothers and sisters watched her. Her +father was delighted. When the waltz was finished the child came and +made me a pretty curtsy. I would have played for her all day, but the +father thought she had danced enough so, instead, I sang the Neapolitan +song that Vitalis had taught me. Lise stood opposite me, moving her lips +as though repeating the words. Then, suddenly, she turned round and +threw herself into her father's arms, crying. + +"That's enough music," said the father. + +"Isn't she a silly?" said the brother named Benjamin, scoffingly; "first +she dances, and then she cries!" + +"She's not so silly as you!" retorted the elder sister, leaning over the +little one affectionately. "She understands...." + +While Lise cried on her father's knee, I again strapped my harp to my +shoulder, and made for the door. + +"Where are you going?" asked the gardener. "Wouldn't you like to stay +here and work? It won't be an easy life. You'll have to get up very +early in the morning and work hard all day. But you may be sure that you +won't have to go through what you did last night. You will have a bed +and food and you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you have +earned it. And, if you're a good boy, which I think you are, you will be +one of the family." + +Lise turned round and, through her tears, she looked at me and smiled. I +could hardly believe what I heard. I just stared at the gardener. Then +Lise jumped off her father's knee and came up and took my hand. + +"Well, what do you say, boy?" asked the father. + +A family! I should have a family. I should not be alone. The man I had +lived with for several years, who had been almost a father to me, was +dead, and dear, good Capi, my companion and friend, whom I loved so +much, was lost. I had thought that all was over for me, and here was +this good man offering to take me into his family. Life would begin +again for me. He said he offered me food and lodging, but what meant +more to me was this home life which would be mine also. These boys would +be my brothers. This pretty little Lise would be my sister. I would no +longer be nobody's boy. In my childish dreams I had more than once +thought I might find my father and mother, but I had never thought that +I should have brothers and sisters! And this was what was being offered +to me. I quickly slipped the strap of my harp from off my shoulders. + +"There's his reply," said the father, laughing. "I can see by your face +how pleased you are; no need for you to say anything. Hang your harp up +there on the wall and when you get tired of us you may take it down and +go on your way again, but you must do like the swallows, choose your +season to start on your flight. Don't go off in the depth of winter." + +My new family consisted of the father, whose name was Pierre Acquin, two +boys, Alexix and Benjamin, and two girls, Etiennette, the elder, and +Lise, the youngest of the family. + +Lise was dumb. She was not born dumb, but just before her fourth +birthday, through an illness, she had lost the power of speech. This +affliction, fortunately, had not impaired her intelligence; quite the +contrary, her intelligence was developed to an extraordinary degree. She +seemed to understand everything. And her sweet, pretty ways made her +adored by the family. + +Since the mother had died, Etiennette had been mother to the family. She +had left school early to stay at home to cook and sew and clean the +house for her father and brothers. They had quite forgotten that she was +the daughter, the sister; they were so accustomed to seeing her doing +the work of a servant, for she seldom went out and was never angry. +Carrying Lise in her arms, dragging Benny by the hand, getting up at +daybreak to get her father's breakfast, going to bed late after washing +the dishes, she had not had time to be a child. At fourteen years her +face was serious and sad. It was not the face of a little girl. + +Five minutes after I had hung my harp on the wall, I was telling them +all what had happened the night before, how we had hoped to sleep on the +race-course, when I heard a scratching on the door which opened onto the +garden; then there was a plaintive whine. + +"Capi! Capi!" I cried, jumping up quickly. + +But Lise was before me; she had already opened the door. + +Capi sprang upon me. I took him in my arms; with little howls of joy, +and his whole body trembling, he licked my face. + +"And Capi?..." I asked. + +My question was understood. + +"Well, Capi will remain with you, of course," said the father. + +As though he knew what we were saying, the dog jumped to the ground and +putting his paw straight on his heart, he bowed. It made the children +laugh, especially Lise, and to amuse them I wanted Capi to perform some +of his tricks, but he had no wish to obey me; he jumped on my knee and +commenced to lick my face; then he sprung down and began to drag me by +the sleeve of my coat. + +"He wants me to go out." + +"To take you to your master." + +The police, who had taken Vitalis away, had said that they wished to +question me when I was better. It was very uncertain as to when they +would come, and I was anxious to have news. Perhaps Vitalis was not dead +as they had thought. Perhaps there was still a spark of life left in my +master's body. + +Upon seeing my anxiety, Monsieur Acquin offered to take me to the police +station. When we arrived there I was questioned at length, but I would +give no information until they had declared that poor Vitalis was really +dead. Then I told them what I knew. It was very little. Of myself I was +able to say that I had no parents and that Vitalis had hired me for a +sum of money, which he had paid in advance to my foster mother's +husband. + +"And now?..." inquired the commissioner. + +"We are going to take care of him," interrupted my new friend; "that +is, if you will let us." + +The commissioner was willing to confide me to his care and complimented +him upon his kind act. + +It is not easy for a child to hide much from a police officer who knows +his business. They very soon trap persons into telling what they wish to +hide. This was so in my case. The commissioner had quickly gleaned from +me all about Garofoli. + +"There is nothing to do but to take him to this chap, Garofoli," he said +to one of his men. "Once in the street he mentions, he will soon +recognize the house. You can go up with him and question the man." + +The three of us started. As the officer had said, we found the street +and the house. We went up to the fourth floor. I did not see Mattia. He +had probably been taken off to the hospital. Upon seeing the officer and +recognizing me, Garofoli paled and looked frightened, but he soon +recovered himself when he learned that they had only come to question +him about Vitalis. + +"So the old fellow is dead?" he said. + +"You know him? Well, tell us all you can about him." + +"There is not much to tell. His name was not Vitalis. He was Carlo +Balzini, and if you had lived thirty-five or forty years ago in Italy, +that name alone would tell you all you want to know. Carlo Balzini was +the greatest singer of the day. He sang in Naples, Rome, Milan, Venice, +Florence, London and Paris. Then came the time when he lost his +magnificent voice, and as he could not be the greatest of singers, he +would not dim his fame by singing on cheaper stages unworthy of his +great reputation. Instead he preferred to hide himself from the world +and from all who had known him in his triumph. Yet he had to live. He +tried several professions, but could not succeed, then finally he took +to training dogs. But in his poverty he was still very proud and he +would have died of shame if the public could have known that the +brilliant Carlo Balzini had sunk to the depths he had. It was just a +matter of chance that I learned his secret." + +Poor Carlo Balzini; dear, dear Vitalis! + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +DISASTER + + +Vitalis had to be buried the next day, and M. Acquin promised to take me +to the funeral. But the next day I could not rise from my bed, for in +the night I was taken very ill. My chest seemed to burn like poor little +Pretty-Heart's after he had spent the night in the tree. The doctor was +called in. I had pneumonia. The doctor wanted me sent to the hospital, +but the family would not hear of it. It was during this illness that I +learned to appreciate Etiennette's goodness. She devoted herself to +nursing me. How good and kind she was during that terrible sickness. +When she was obliged to leave me to attend to her household duties, Lise +took her place, and many times in my delirium I saw little Lise sitting +at the foot of my bed with her big eyes fixed on me anxiously. In my +delirium I thought that she was my guardian angel, and I would speak to +her and tell her of all my hopes and desires. It was from this time that +I began to consider her as something ideal, as a different being from +the other people I met. It seemed surprising that she could live in our +life; in my boyish imagination I could picture her flying away with big +white wings to a more beautiful world. + +I was ill for a very long time. At night, when I was almost +suffocating, I had to have some one to sit up with me; then Alexix and +Benny would take turns. At last I was convalescent, and then it was Lise +who replaced Etiennette and walked with me down by the river. Of course +during these walks she could not talk, but strange to say we had no need +of words. We seemed to understand each other so well without talking. +Then came the day when I was strong enough to work with the others in +the garden. I had been impatient to commence, for I wanted to do +something for my kind friends who had done so much for me. + +As I was still weak, the task that was given to me was in proportion to +my strength. Every morning after the frost had passed, I had to lift the +glass frames and at night, before it got chilly, I had to close them +again. During the day I had to shade the wall flowers with straw +coverings to protect them from the sun. This was not difficult to do, +but it took all my time, for I had several hundred glasses to move twice +daily. + +Days and months passed. I was very happy. Sometimes I thought that I was +too happy, it could not last. M. Acquin was considered one of the +cleverest florists round about Paris. After the wall flower season was +over other flowers replaced them. + +For many weeks we had been working very hard, as the season promised to +be an especially good one. We had not even taken a rest on Sunday, but +as all the flowers were now perfect and ready for the approaching +season, it was decided that, for a reward, we were all to go and have +dinner on Sunday, August 5th, with one of M. Acquin's friends, who was +also a florist. Capi was to be one of the party. We were to work until +four o'clock, and when all was finished we were to lock the gates and go +to Arcueil. Supper was for six o'clock. After supper we were to come +home at once, so as not to be late in getting to bed, as Monday morning +we had to be up bright and early, ready for work. A few minutes before +four we were all ready. + +"Come on, all of you," cried M. Acquin gayly. "I'm going to lock the +gates." + +"Come, Capi." + +Taking Lise by the hand, I began to run with her; Capi jumped around us, +barking. We were all dressed up in our best, and looking forward to a +good dinner. Some people turned round to watch us as we passed. I don't +know what I looked like, but Lise in her blue dress and white shoes was +the prettiest little girl that one could see. Time passed quickly. + +We were having dinner out of doors when, just as we had finished, one of +us remarked how dark it was getting. Clouds were gathering quickly in +the sky. + +"Children, we must go home," said M. Acquin, "there's going to be a +storm." + +"Go, already!" came the chorus. + +"If the wind rises, all the glasses will be upset." + +We all knew the value of those glass frames and what they mean to a +florist. It would be terrible for us if the wind broke ours. + +"I'll hurry ahead with Benny and Alexix," the father said. "Remi can +come on with Etiennette and Lise." + +They rushed off. Etiennette and I followed more slowly with Lise. No one +laughed now. The sky grew darker. The storm was coming quickly. Clouds +of dust swirled around us; we had to turn our backs and cover our eyes +with our hands, for the dust blinded us. There was a streak of lightning +across the sky, then came a heavy clap of thunder. + +Etiennette and I had taken Lise by the hands; we were trying to drag her +along faster, but she could scarcely keep up with us. Would the father, +Benny and Alexix get home before the storm broke? If they were only in +time to close the glass cases so that the wind could not get under them +and upset them! The thunder increased; the clouds were so heavy that it +seemed almost night. Then suddenly there was a downpour of hail, the +stones struck us in the face, and we had to race to take shelter under a +big gateway. + +In a minute the road was covered with white, like in winter. The +hailstones were as large as pigeon eggs; as they fell they made a +deafening sound, and every now and again we could hear the crash of +broken glass. With the hailstones, as they slid from the roofs to the +street, fell all sorts of things, pieces of slate, chimney pots, tiles, +etc. + +"Oh, the glass frames!" cried Etiennette. + +I had the same thought. + +"Even if they get there before the hail, they will never have time to +cover the glasses with straw. Everything will be ruined." + +"They say that hail only falls in places," I said, trying to hope still. + +"Oh, this is too near home for us to escape. If it falls on the garden +the same as here, poor father will be ruined. And he counted so much on +those flowers, he needs the money so badly." + +I had heard that the glass frames cost as much as 1800 francs a hundred, +and I knew what a disaster it would be if the hail broke our five or six +hundred, without counting the plants and the conservatories. I would +liked to have questioned Etiennette, but we could scarcely hear each +other speak, and she did not seem disposed to talk. She looked at the +hail falling with a hopeless expression, like a person would look upon +his house burning. + +The hurricane lasted but a short while; it stopped as suddenly as it had +commenced. It lasted perhaps six minutes. The clouds swept over Paris +and we were able to leave our shelter. The hailstones were thick on the +ground. Lise could not walk in them in her thin shoes, so I took her on +my back and carried her. Her pretty face, which was so bright when going +to the party, was now grief-stricken and the tears rolled down her +cheeks. + +Before long we reached the house. The big gates were open and we went +quickly into the garden. What a sight met our eyes! All the glass frames +were smashed to atoms. Flowers, pieces of glass and hailstones were all +heaped together in our once beautiful garden. Everything was shattered! + +Where was the father? + +We searched for him. Last of all we found him in the big conservatory, +of which every pane of glass was broken. He was seated on a wheelbarrow +in the midst of the débris which covered the ground. Alexix and Benjamin +stood beside him silently. + +"My children, my poor little ones!" he cried, when we all were there. + +He took Lise in his arms and began to sob. He said nothing more. What +could he have said? It was a terrible catastrophe, but the consequences +were still more terrible. I soon learned this from Etiennette. + +Ten years ago their father had bought the garden and had built the house +himself. The man who had sold him the ground had also lent him the money +to buy the necessary materials required by a florist. The amount was +payable in yearly payments for fifteen years. The man was only waiting +for an occasion when the florist would be late in payment to take back +the ground, house, material; keeping, of course, the ten-year payments +that he had already received. + +This was a speculation on the man's part, for he had hoped that before +the fifteen years expired there would come a day when the florist would +be unable to meet his notes. This day had come at last! Now what was +going to happen? + +We were not left long in doubt. The day after the notes fell due--this +sum which was to have been paid from the sale of his season's flowers--a +gentleman dressed all in black came to the house and handed us a stamped +paper. It was the process server. He came often; so many times that he +soon began to know us by name. + +"How do you do, Mlle. Etiennette? Hello, Remi; hello, Alexix!" + +And he handed us his stamped paper smilingly, as though we were friends. +The father did not stay in the house. He was always out. He never told +us where he went. Probably he went to call on business men, or he might +have been at court. + +What would the result be? A part of the winter passed. As we were unable +to repair the conservatories and renew the glass frames, we cultivated +vegetables and hardier flowers that did not demand shelter. They were +not very productive, but at least it was something, and it was work for +us. One evening the father returned home more depressed than usual. + +"Children," he said, "it is all over." + +I was about to leave the room, for I felt that he had something serious +to say to his children. He signed to me to stop. + +"You are one of the family, Remi," he said sadly, "and although you are +not very old, you know what trouble is. Children, I am going to leave +you." + +There was a cry on all sides. + +Lise flung her arms round her father's neck. He held her very tight. + +"Ah, it's hard to leave you, dear children," he said, "but the courts +have ordered me to pay, and as I have no money, everything here has to +be sold, and as that is not enough, I have to go to prison for five +years. As I am not able to pay with my money, I have to pay with my +liberty." + +We all began to cry. + +"Yes, it's sad," he continued brokenly, "but a man can't do anything +against the law. My attorney says that it used to be worse than it is." + +There was a tearful silence. + +"This is what I have decided is the best thing to do," continued the +father. "Remi, who is the best scholar, will write to my sister +Catherine and explain the matter to her and ask her to come to us. Aunt +Catherine has plenty of common sense and she will be able to decide what +should be done for the best." + +It was the first time that I had written a letter, and this was a very +painful one, but we still had a ray of hope. We were very ignorant +children and the fact that Aunt Catherine was coming, and that she was +practical, made us hope that everything could be made right. But she did +not come as soon as we had hoped. A few days later the father had just +left the house to call on one of his friends, when he met the police +face to face coming for him. He returned to the house with them; he was +very pale; he had come to say good-by to his children. + +"Don't be so downcast, man," said one of them who had come to take him; +"to be in prison for debt is not so dreadful as you seem to think. +You'll find some very good fellows there." + +I went to fetch the two boys, who were in the garden. Little Lise was +sobbing; one of the men stooped down and whispered something in her ear, +but I did not hear what he said. + +The parting was over very quickly. M. Acquin caught Lise up in his arms +and kissed her again and again, then he put her down, but she clung to +his hand. Then he kissed Etiennette, Alexix and Benny and gave Lise into +her sister's care. I stood a little apart, but he came to me and kissed +me affectionately, just like the others, and then they took him away. We +all stood in the middle of the kitchen crying; not one of us had a word +to say. + +Aunt Catherine arrived an hour later. We were still crying bitterly. For +a country woman who had no education or money, the responsibility that +had fallen upon her was heavy. A family of destitute children, the +eldest not yet sixteen, the youngest a dumb girl. Aunt Catherine had +been a nurse in a lawyer's family; she at once called upon this man to +ask his advice, and it was he who decided our fate. When she returned +from the lawyer's, she told us what had been arranged. Lise was to go +and live with her. Alexix was to go to an uncle at Varses, Benny to +another uncle, who was a florist at Saint-Quentin, and Etiennette to an +aunt who lived at the seashore. + +I listened to these plans, waiting until they came to me. When Aunt +Catherine ceased speaking, and I had not been mentioned, I said, "And +me?..." + +"Why, you don't belong to the family." + +"I'll work for you." + +"You're not one of the family." + +"Ask Alexix and Benny if I can't work, and I like work." + +"And soup, also, eh?" + +"But he's one of the family; yes, aunt, he's one of the family," came +from all sides. + +Lise came forwards and clasped her hands before her aunt with an +expression that said more than words. + +"Poor mite," said Aunt Catherine, "I know you'd like him to come and +live with us, but we can't always get what we want. You're my niece, and +if my man makes a face when I take you home, all I've to tell him is +that you're a relation, and I'm going to have you with me. It will be +like that with your other uncles and aunts. They will take a relation, +but not strangers." + +I felt there was nothing to say. What she said was only too true. I was +not one of the family. I could claim nothing, ask nothing; that would be +begging. And yet I loved them all and they all loved me. Aunt Catherine +sent us to bed, after telling us that we were to be parted the next day. + +Scarcely had we got upstairs than they all crowded round me. Lise clung +to me, crying. Then I knew, that in spite of their grief at parting from +one another, it was of me that they thought; they pitied me because I +was alone. I felt, indeed, then that I was their brother. Suddenly an +idea came to me. + +"Listen," I said; "even if your aunts and uncles don't want me, I can +see that you consider me one of the family." + +"Yes, yes," they all cried. + +Lise, who could not speak, just squeezed my hand and looked up at me +with her big, beautiful eyes. + +"Well, I'm a brother, and I'll prove it," I said stoutly. + +"There's a job with Pernuit; shall I go over and speak to him +to-morrow?" asked Etiennette. + +"I don't want a job. If I take a job I shall have to stay in Paris, and +I shan't see you again. I'm going to put on my sheepskin and take my +harp, and go first to one place and then to another where you are all +going to live. I shall see you all one after the other, and I'll carry +the news from one to the other, so you'll all be in touch. I haven't +forgotten my songs nor my dance music, and I'll get enough money to +live." + +Every face beamed. I was glad they were so pleased with my idea. For a +long time we talked, then Etiennette made each one go to bed, but no one +slept much that night, I least of all. The next day at daybreak Lise +took me into the garden. + +"You want to speak to me?" I asked. + +She nodded her head. + +"You are unhappy because we are going to be parted? You need not tell +me; I can see it in your eyes, and I am unhappy, too." + +She made a sign that it was something else she wanted to say. + +"In fifteen days I shall be at Dreuzy, where you are going to live." + +She shook her head. + +"You don't want me to go to Dreuzy?" + +In order for us to understand each other, I made more progress by +questioning. She replied either with a nod or a shake of the head. She +told me that she wanted to see me at Dreuzy, but pointing her finger in +three directions, she made me understand that I must first go and see +her brothers and sister. + +"You want me first to go to Varses, then Esnandes and then +Saint-Quentin?" + +She smiled and nodded, pleased that I understood. + +"Why?" + +Then with her lips and hands, and above all with her eyes, she explained +to me why she wished this. She wanted me to go and see her sister and +brothers first, so that when I reached Dreuzy I could tell her news of +them. They had to start at eight o'clock, and Aunt Catherine had ordered +a cab to take them, first of all to the prison to say good-by to their +father, and then each, with their baggage, to the different depots where +they had to take their trains. At seven o'clock Etiennette, in her turn, +took me in the garden. + +"I want to give you a little keepsake, Remi," she said. "Take this +little case; my godfather gave it to me. You'll find thread, needles and +scissors in it; when you are tramping along the roads you'll need them, +for I shan't be there to put a patch on your clothes, nor sew a button +on. When you use my scissors, think of us all." + +While Etiennette was speaking to me, Alexix loitered near; when she left +me to return to the house, he came up. + +"Say, Remi," he began, "I've got two five franc pieces. Take one; I'll +be so pleased if you will." + +Of the five of us, Alexix was the only one who cared very much for +money. We always made fun of his greed; he saved up sou by sou, counting +his hoard continually, he was always very proud when he had a brand new +piece. His offer touched me to the heart; I wanted to refuse, but he +insisted, and slipped a shiny silver piece into my hand. I knew that his +friendship for me must be very strong if he were willing to share his +treasure with me. + +Benjamin, neither, had forgotten me; he also wanted to give me a +present. He gave me his knife, and in exchange he exacted a sou, because +he said "a knife cuts friendship." + +The time passed quickly. The moment had come for us to part. As the cab +was drawing up at the house, Lise again made a sign for me to follow her +into the garden. + +"Lise!" called her aunt. + +She made no reply, but ran quickly down the path. She stopped at a big +Bengal rose tree and cut off a branch, then, turning to me, she divided +the stalk in two; there was a rose on either side. The language of the +lips is a small thing compared with the language of the eyes; how cold +and empty are words compared with looks! + +"Lise! Lise!" cried her aunt. + +The baggage was already in the cab. I took down my harp and called to +Capi. At the sight of my old suit, he jumped and barked with joy. He +loved his liberty on the high roads more than being closed up in the +garden. They all got into the cab. I lifted Lise onto her aunt's lap. I +stood there half dazed, then the aunt gently pushed me away and closed +the door. They were off. + +Through a mist I watched Lise as she leaned out of the window waving +her hand to me, then the cab sharply turned the corner of the street and +all I could see was a cloud of dust. + +Leaning on my harp, with Capi sprawling at my feet, I stayed there +looking absently down the street. A neighbor, who had been asked to lock +up the house and keep the key, called to me: + +"Are you going to stay there all day?" + +"No, I'm off now." + +"Where are you going?" + +"Straight ahead." + +"If you'd like to stay," he said, perhaps out of pity, "I'll keep you, +but I can't pay you, because you're not very strong. Later I might give +you something." + +I thanked him, but said no. + +"Well, as you like; I was only thinking for your own good. Good-by and +good luck!" + +He went away. The cab had gone, the house was locked up. + +I turned away from the home where I had lived for two years, and where I +had hoped always to live. The sky was clear, the weather warm, very +different from the icy night when poor Vitalis and I had fallen +exhausted by the wall. + +So these two years had only been a halt. I must go on my way again. But +the stay had done me good. It had given me strength and I had made dear +friends. I was not now alone in the world, and I had an object in life, +to be useful and give pleasure to those I loved. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MATTIA + + +The world was before me; I could go where I liked, north, south, east or +west. I was my own master. How many children there are who say to +themselves, "If I could only do as I liked, ... if I were my own +master!" And how impatiently they look forward to this day when they can +do the things they have longed to do, ... often very foolish things. +Between these children and myself there was a vast difference. When they +do anything foolish there is a hand stretched out, and they are picked +up if they fall. If I fell I should go down, down, down, and I might not +be able to pick myself up again. I was afraid. I knew the dangers that +beset me. + +Before beginning my wanderings I wanted to see the man who had been so +good to me. Aunt Catherine had not wished to take me with them when they +had gone to say good-by, but I felt that, at least, I could go and see +him now that I was alone. + +I did not dare walk across Paris with Capi running at my heels. I was +afraid that a policeman would stop and question me. My greatest fear was +the police. I tied a string to Capi's collar. I was loath to do this, +for I knew that it hurt his self-respect, but it had to be, and in this +humiliating manner I dragged him along to the Clichy prison, where M. +Acquin was serving his sentence. For some moments I looked in a sort of +fear at the great prison doors, thinking that perhaps once they had +closed on me I might not be able to get out again. I found it more +difficult than I had thought to get into a prison, but I would not be +discouraged. After much waiting and questioning, I was finally permitted +to see M. Acquin. + +"Ah, Remi, boy, I was expecting you," he said, as I entered the room +where visitors were allowed to see the prisoners. "I scolded Aunt +Catherine for not bringing you with the others." + +I brightened up at these words. + +"The children tell me that you are going on your wanderings again. Have +you forgotten that you almost died of cold and hunger, my boy?" + +"No, I've not forgotten that." + +"You were not alone then; you had some one to look after you. At your +age I don't think it is right to go tramping across the country alone." + +"You don't want me to bring you news of your children, then?" I asked. + +"They told me that you were going to see them all, one after the other," +he replied, "but I am not thinking of us when I ask you to give up this +wandering life." + +"And if I do what you ask I should be thinking of myself and not of you +... of Lise." + +This time he looked at me for several seconds, then he suddenly took +both my hands. + +"You have a heart, and I will not say another word, my boy. God will +take care of you." + +I threw my arms round his neck; the time had come for me to say good-by. +For some moments he held me in silence, then suddenly he felt in his +vest pocket and pulled out a large silver watch. + +"Here, boy, take this," he said. "I want you to have it as a keepsake. +It isn't of much value; if it had been I'd have sold it. It doesn't keep +good time, either. When anything is wrong with it, just give it a thump. +It is all I have." + +I wanted to refuse such a beautiful present, but he forced it into my +closed hands. + +"Oh, I don't need to know the time," he said sadly; "the hours pass +slowly enough. I should die counting them. Good-by, little Remi; always +remember to be a good boy." + +I was very unhappy. How good he had been to me! I lingered round the +prison doors for a long time after I had left him. I might have stayed +there perhaps until night if I had not suddenly touched a hard round +object in my pocket. My watch! + +All my grief was forgotten for the moment. My watch! My very own watch +by which I could tell the time. I pulled it out to see the hour. Midday! +It was a matter of small importance whether it was midday, ten o'clock +or two o'clock. Yet, I was very pleased that it was midday. It would +have been hard to say why, but such was the case. I knew that it was +midday; my watch told me so. What an affair! It seemed to me that a +watch was a sort of confidential friend of whom one could ask advice and +to whom one could talk. + +"Friend watch, what's the time?" + +"Just twelve o'clock, my dear Remi." + +"Really! Then it's time for me to do this or that. A good thing you +reminded me; if you had not, I should have forgotten." + +In my joy I had not noticed that Capi was almost as pleased as myself. +He pulled me by the leg of my trousers and barked several times. As he +continued to bark, I was forced to bestow some attention upon him. + +"What do you want, Capi?" I asked. + +He looked at me, but I failed to understand him. He waited some moments, +then came and stood up against me, putting his paws on the pocket where +I had placed my watch. He wanted to know the time to tell the +"distinguished audience," like in the days when he had worked with +Vitalis. + +I showed the watch to him. He looked at it for some time, as though +trying to remember, then, wagging his tail, he barked twelve times. He +had not forgotten! We could earn money with my watch! That was something +I had not counted upon. + +Forward march, children! + +I took one last look at the prison, behind the walls of which little +Lise's father was shut, then went on my way. + +The thing I needed most of all was a map of France. Knowing that in the +book stalls on the quays I could procure one, I wended my way towards +the river. At last I found one that was so yellow that the man let me +have it for fifteen sous. + +I was able to leave Paris now, and I decided to do so at once. I had a +choice between two roads. I chose the road to Fontainebleau. As I went +up the Rue Mouffetard, a host of memories rushed upon me. Garofoli! +Mattia! Ricardo! the soup pot fastened with a padlock, the whip, and +Vitalis, my poor, good master, who had died because he would not rent me +to the _padrone_. As I passed the church I saw a little boy leaning +against the wall, and I thought I recognized him. Surely it was Mattia, +the boy with the big head, the great eyes and the soft, resigned look. +But then he had not grown one inch! I went nearer to see better. Yes, it +was Mattia. He recognised me. His pale face broke into a smile. + +"Ah, it's you," he said. "You came to Garofoli's a long time ago with an +old man with a white beard, just before I went to the hospital. Ah! how +I used to suffer with my head then." + +"Is Garofoli still your master?" + +He glanced round before replying, then lowering his voice he said: +"Garofoli is in prison. They took him because he beat Orlando to death." + +I was shocked at this. I was pleased to hear that they had put Garofoli +in prison, and for the first time I thought the prisons, which inspired +me with so much horror, had their use. + +"And the other boys?" I asked. + +"Oh, I don't know. I was not there when Garofoli was arrested. When I +came out of the hospital, Garofoli, seeing that it was no good to beat +me 'cause I got ill, wanted to get rid of me, so he sold me for two +years to the Gassot Circus. They paid him in advance. D'ye know the +Gassot Circus? No? Well, it's not much of a circus, but it's a circus +all the same. They wanted a child for dislocation, and Garofoli sold me +to Mr. Gassot. I stayed with him until last Monday, when he sent me off +because my head was too big to go into the box. After leaving the circus +I went back to find Garofoli, but the place was all shut up, and a +neighbor told me what had happened. Now that Garofoli's in prison I +don't know where to go. + +"And I haven't any money," he added, "and I haven't had a bite to eat +since yesterday." + +I was not rich, but I had enough to give something to poor Mattia. How I +would have blessed one who would have given me a crust of bread when I +was wandering round Toulouse, famished like Mattia now. + +"Stay here until I come back," I said. + +I ran to a bakery at the corner of the street and soon returned with a +roll, which I offered him. He devoured it in a moment. + +"Now," I said, "what do you want to do?" + +"I don't know. I was trying to sell my violin when you spoke to me, and +I would have sold it before, if I hadn't hated to part with it. My +violin is all I have and when I'm sad, I find a spot where I can be +alone and play to myself. Then I see all sorts of beautiful things in +the sky, more beautiful than in a dream." + +"Why don't you play your violin in the streets?" + +"I did, but I didn't get anything." + +How well I knew what it was to play and not get a coin. + +"What are you doing?" he asked. + +I don't know why, but on the spur of the moment, I put up a ridiculous +bluff. + +"I'm the boss of a company," I said proudly. + +It was true, but the truth was very near a falsehood. My "company" only +consisted of Capi. + +"Oh, will you...." began Mattia. + +"What?" + +"Take me in your company?" + +Not wishing to deceive him, I smiled and pointed to Capi. + +"But that is all the company I have," I said. + +"Well, what does that matter? I'll be another. Oh, please don't leave +me; I shall die of hunger!" + +Die of hunger! His words seemed to strike my very heart. I knew what it +would be to die of hunger. + +"I can play the violin, and I can dislocate," said Mattia breathlessly. +"I can dance on the tight rope, I can sing, I'll do anything you like. +I'll be your servant; I'll obey you. I don't ask for money; food only. +And if I do badly, you can beat me, that is understood. All that I ask +is, that you won't strike me on the head; that also must be understood, +because my head is very sore since Garofoli beat me so much on it." + +I felt like crying, to hear poor little Mattia speak so. How could I +refuse to take him with me. Die of hunger! But with me there was also a +chance that he might die of hunger. I told him so, but he would not +listen to me. + +"No, no," he said; "when there are two, one doesn't starve, because one +helps the other. The one who has it gives to the one who hasn't." + +I hesitated no longer. As I had some I must help him. + +"Well, then, it's understood," I said. + +Instantly he took my hand and actually kissed it in gratitude. + +"Come with me," I said; "not as a servant, Mattia, but as my chum." + +Shouldering my harp, I gave the signal: + +"Forward, march!" + +At the end of a quarter of an hour, we had left Paris behind. + +I left Paris by this route because I wanted to see Mother Barberin. How +many times I had wanted to write to her and tell her that I thought of +her, and that I loved her with all my heart, but the horrible fear of +Barberin restrained me. If Barberin found me by means of my letter, he +might take me and sell me to another man. He probably had the right to +do so. I preferred that Mother Barberin should think that I was an +ungrateful boy rather than run the risk of falling into Barberin's +power. + +But though I dared not write, now that I was free, I could go and see +her. Since I had taken Mattia into my "company" I had made up my mind to +do so, for it seemed to me that it could easily be arranged. I would +send him ahead and he could find out if she were alone, and then tell +her that I was not far off, and was only waiting to know if it were safe +for me to come and see her. Then, if Barberin were in the village, +Mattia could ask her to come to some safe spot where I could meet her. + +I tramped along in silence, working out this plan. Mattia trudged by my +side; he also seemed to be thinking deeply. The idea came to me to show +off my possessions to Mattia. Unfastening my bag, I proudly spread out +my riches on the grass. I had three cotton shirts, three pairs of socks, +five handkerchiefs, all in good condition, and one pair of shoes, +slightly used. + +Mattia was awestruck. + +"And you, what have you got?" I asked. + +"I've only got my violin." + +"Well, we'll go shares, now we're chums; you'll have two shirts, two +pairs of socks, and three handkerchiefs, but as it's only fair that we +go shares in everything, you'll carry my bag for one hour and I'll carry +it for another." + +Mattia wanted to refuse the things, but as I had quickly fallen into the +habit of commanding, which, I must say I found very pleasant, I told him +to be silent. I had laid out Etiennette's needle case and also a little +box in which I had placed Lise's rose. Mattia wanted to open this box, +but I would not let him. I put it back in my bag without even lifting +the lid. + +"If you want to please me," I said, "you will never touch this box ... +it's a present." + +"I promise never to touch it," he said solemnly. + +Since I had again donned my sheepskin and my harp there was one thing +which caused me serious thought. That was my trousers. It seemed to me +that an artist ought not to wear long trousers; to appear in public an +artist should have short trousers with stockings coming over them, laced +over and over with colored ribbons. Trousers were all right for a +gardener, but now ... I was an artist! Yes, I must wear knickers. I +quickly took the scissors from Etiennette's work-case. + +"While I arrange my trousers," I said to Mattia, "you ought to show me +how you play the violin." + +"Oh, I'd like to." + +He began to play, while I boldly stuck the points of my scissors into my +trousers a little above the knee. I commenced to cut the cloth. + +Yet, however, they were a beautiful pair of gray cloth trousers, with +vest and coat to match, and I had been so proud of them when M. Acquin +had given them to me, but I did not consider that I was spoiling them by +shortening them, quite the contrary. + +At first I scarcely listened to Mattia; I was too busy cutting my +trousers, but soon I stopped manipulating the scissors and became all +ears. Mattia played almost as well as Vitalis. + +"Who taught you the violin?" I asked, clapping my hands. + +"No one, I studied alone." + +"Hasn't any one explained to you anything about music?" + +"No, I play just what I hear." + +"I'll teach you, I will." + +"You know everything, then?" + +"Well so I ought to, if I'm the director." + +I wanted to show Mattia that I also was a musician. I took my harp and, +wishing to impress him, I sang the famous canzonette. Then, as it should +be between artists, he complimented me. He had great talent. We were +worthy of each other. + +I buckled my knapsack and Mattia, in turn, hoisted it on his shoulders. + +We had to stop at the first village to give a performance. It was to be +the "First appearance of Remi's Company." + +"Teach me your song," said Mattia; "we'll sing it together, and I'll +soon be able to accompany you on the violin. That'll be pretty." + +Certainly, that would be pretty, and the "distinguished audience" would +have a heart of stone if they were not generous in their offerings. + +At the first village that we came to we had to pass before a large farm +gate; looking in we saw a crowd of people dressed up in their best; some +of them carried bouquets tied with satin streamers. It was a wedding. I +thought that perhaps these people might like a little music and dance, +so I went into the farmyard and suggested it to the first person that I +met. This was a big, good-natured looking man with a red face; he wore a +tall white collar and a Prince Albert coat. He did not reply to my +question, but turning to the guests, he put his two fingers in his mouth +and gave such a shrill whistle that it frightened Capi. + +"Say, you all," he cried, "what about a little music; the musicians have +arrived." + +"Oh, music! music!" came the chorus. + +"Take your places for the quadrilles!" + +The dancers soon gathered in the middle of the yard. Mattia and I took +our places up in a wagon. + +"Can you play the quadrilles?" I whispered anxiously. + +"Yes." + +He struck a few notes on his violin. By luck I knew the air. We were +saved. Although Mattia and I had never played together, we did not do +badly. It is true the people had not much ear for music. + +"Can one of you play the cornet?" asked the big man with the red face. + +"I can," said Mattia, "but I haven't the instrument with me." + +"I'll go and find one; the violin's pretty, but it's squeaky." + +I found that day that Mattia could play everything. We played until +night, without stopping. It did not matter for me, but poor Mattia was +very weak. From time to time I saw him turn pale as though he felt ill, +yet he continued to play, blowing with all his might. Fortunately, I was +not the only one who saw that he was ill; the bride remarked it also. + +"That's enough," she said; "that little chap is tired out. Now all hands +to your pockets for the musicians!" + +I threw my cap to Capi, who caught it in his jaws. + +"Give your offerings to our secretary, if you please," I said. + +They applauded, and were delighted at the manner in which Capi bowed. +They gave generously; the husband was the last, and he dropped a five +franc piece in the cap. The cap was full of silver coins. What a +fortune! + +We were invited to supper, and they gave us a place to sleep in the hay +loft. The next day when we left this hospitable farm we had a capital +of twenty-eight francs! + +"I owe this to you, Mattia," I said, after we had counted it; "I could +not have made an orchestra all alone." + +With twenty-eight francs in our pockets we were rich. When we reached +Corbeil I could very well afford to buy a few things that I considered +indispensable: first, a cornet, which would cost three francs at a +second-hand shop, then some red ribbons for our stockings and, lastly, +another knapsack. It would be easier to carry a small bag all the time +than a heavy one in turns. + +"A boss like you, who doesn't beat one, is too good," said Mattia, +laughing happily from time to time. + +Our prosperous state of affairs made me decide to set out for Mother +Barberin's as soon as possible. I could take her a present. I was rich +now. There was something that, more than anything else, would make her +happy, not only now, but in her old age--a cow that would replace poor +Rousette. How happy she would be if I gave her a cow, and how proud I +should be. Before arriving at Chavanon I would buy a cow and Mattia +would lead it by a rope, right into Mother Barberin's yard. + +Mattia would say to her: "Here is a cow I've brought you." + +"A cow!" she would say; "you've made a mistake, my boy," and she would +sigh. + +"No, I haven't," Mattia would answer; "you're Mother Barberin of +Chevanon, aren't you? Well, the prince (like in fairy tales) has sent +you this as a present." + +"What prince?" + +Then I would appear and take her in my arms, and after we had hugged +each other we would make some pancakes and apple fritters which would be +eaten by the three of us and not by Barberin, as on that Shrove Tuesday +when he had returned to upset our frying pan and put our butter in his +onion soup. What a beautiful dream! But to realize it we must first buy +the cow! + +How much would a cow cost? I had not the slightest idea; a great deal +probably, but still.... I did not want a very big cow. Because the +fatter the cow the higher the price, and then the bigger the cow the +more nourishment it would require, and I did not want my present to be a +source of inconvenience to Mother Barberin. The essential, for the +moment, was to find out the price of cows or, rather, of a cow of the +kind that I wanted. Fortunately, that was not difficult for we often met +many farmers and cattle dealers at the different villages where we +stopped. I put the question to the first I met at the inn that day. + +He burst out laughing and gave a bang on the table. Then he called the +landlady. + +"This little musician wants to know how much a cow costs, not a very +large one, but a very healthy one that'll give plenty of milk!" + +Every one laughed. I didn't care, though. + +"Yes, she must give good milk and not eat too much," I said. + +"And she mustn't mind being led along the lanes by a halter." + +When he had had his laugh, he was quite willing to enter a discussion +with me, and to take the matter seriously. He had just the very thing, a +nice cow which gave delicious milk--real cream!--and she hardly ate +anything. If I would put down fifty écus, the cow was mine. Although I +had had trouble in making him talk at first, once he commenced it was +difficult to stop him. Finally, we were able to retire for the night, +and I dreamed of all I had learned from him. + +Fifty écus; that was one hundred and fifty francs! I had nothing like +that great sum. Perhaps if our luck still continued I could, if I saved +sou by sou, get together the hundred and fifty francs. But it would take +time. In that case we should have to go, first of all, to Varses and see +Benny and give all the performances that we could on our way. And then +on our return we would have the money and we would go to Chavanon and +act the fairy tale, "The Prince's Cow." + +I told Mattia of my plan and he raised no objections. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +MEETING OLD FRIENDS + + +It took us nearly three months to do this journey, but when at last we +reached the outskirts of Varses we found that we had indeed employed our +time well. In my leather purse I now had one hundred and twenty-eight +francs. We were only short of twenty-two francs to buy Mother Barberin's +cow. + +Mattia was almost as pleased as I, and he was very proud that he had +contributed his part to such a sum. His part was great, for I am sure +that without him, Capi and I could not have collected anything like the +sum of one hundred and twenty-eight francs! From Varses to Chavanon we +could easily gain the twenty-two francs that we were short. + +It was three o'clock in the afternoon when we arrived at Varses and a +radiant sun shone in the clear sky, but the nearer we got to the town +the darker became the atmosphere. Between the sky and the earth hung a +cloud of smoke. + +I knew that Alexix's uncle was a miner at Varses, but I did not know +whether he lived in the town itself or outside. I simply knew that he +worked in a mine called the "Truyère." + +Upon entering the town I asked where this mine was situated, and I was +directed to the left bank of the river Divonne, in a little dale, +traversed by a ravine, after which the mine had been named. This dale is +as unattractive as the town. + +At the office they told us where Uncle Gaspard, Alexix's uncle, lived. +It was in a winding street, which led from the hill to the river, at a +little distance from the mine. + +When we reached the house, a woman who was leaning up against the door +talking to two or three neighbors told me that Gaspard, the miner, would +not be back until six o'clock. + +"What do you want of him?" she asked. + +"I want to see Alexix, his nephew." + +"Oh? you're Remi?" she said. "Alexix has spoken of you. He's been +expecting you. Who's that boy?" She pointed to Mattia. + +"He's my friend." + +This woman was Alexix's aunt. I thought she would ask us to go in and +rest, for we were very dusty and tired, but she simply repeated that if +I would return at six o'clock I could see Alexix, who was then at the +mine. I had not the heart to ask for what was not offered. I thanked her +and went into the town to find a baker, to get something to eat. I was +ashamed of this reception, for I felt that Mattia would wonder what it +meant. Why should we have tramped so many miles for this. + +It seemed to me that Mattia would have a poor idea of my friends, and +that when I should speak to him of Lise he would not listen to me with +the same interest. And I wanted him very much to like Lise. The cold +welcome that the aunt had given us did not encourage me to return to the +house, so at a little before six o'clock, Mattia, Capi, and I went to +the entrance of the mine to wait for Alexix. + +We had been told by which gallery the miners would come out, and a +little after six we began to see in the dark shadows of the gallery some +tiny lights which gradually became larger. The miners, with lamp in +hand, were coming up into the day, their work finished. They came on +slowly, with heavy gait, as though they suffered in the knees. I +understood how this was later, when I myself had gone over the +staircases and ladders which led to the last level. Their faces were as +black as chimney sweeps; their clothes and hats covered with coal dust. +Each man entered the lamplighter's cabin and hung up his lamp on a nail. + +Although keeping a careful lookout, I did not see Alexix until he had +rushed up to me. I should have let him pass without recognizing him. It +was hard to recognize in this boy, black from head to foot, the chum who +had raced with me down the garden paths in his clean shirt, turned up to +the elbows, and his collar thrown open, showing his White skin. + +"It's Remi," he cried, turning to a man of about forty years, who walked +near him, and who had a kind, frank face like M. Acquin. This was not +surprising, considering that they were brothers. I knew that this was +Uncle Gaspard. + +"We've been expecting you a long time," he said, smiling. + +"The road is long from Paris to Varses," I said, smiling back. + +"And your legs are short," he retorted, laughing. + +Capi, happy at seeing Alexix, expressed his joy by tugging at the leg of +his trousers with all his might. During this time I explained to Uncle +Gaspard that Mattia was my friend and partner, and that he played the +cornet better than any one. + +"And there's Monsieur Capi," said Uncle Gaspard; "you'll be rested +to-morrow, so you can entertain us, for it's Sunday. Alexix says that +that dog is cleverer than a schoolmaster and a comedian combined." + +As much as I felt ill at ease with the aunt, so I felt at ease with +Uncle Gaspard. + +"Now, you two boys talk together," he said cheerily, "I am sure that you +have a lot to say to each other. I'm going to have a chat with this +young man who plays the cornet so well." + +Alexix wanted to know about my journey, and I wanted to know about his +work; we were so busy questioning each other that neither of us waited +for a reply. + +When we arrived at the house, Uncle Gaspard invited us to supper; never +did an invitation give me such pleasure, for I had wondered as we +walked along if we should have to part at the door, the aunt's welcome +not having given us much hope. + +"Here's Remi and his friend," said the father, entering the house. + +We sat down to supper. The meal did not last long, for the aunt, who was +a gossiper, was only serving delicatessen that evening. The hard-working +miner ate his delicatessen supper without a word of complaint. He was an +easy going man who, above all, liked peace: He never complained; if he +had a remark to pass it was said in a quiet, gentle way. The supper was +soon over. + +Uncle Gaspard told me that I could sleep with Alexix that night, and +told Mattia that if he would go with him into the bakehouse he would +make him up a bed there. + +That evening and the greater part of the night Alexix and I spent +talking. + +Everything that Alexix told me excited me strangely. I had always wanted +to go down in a mine, but when I spoke of it the next day to Uncle +Gaspard he told me that he could not possibly take me down as only those +who worked in the colliery were permitted to enter. + +"If you want to be a miner," he said, "it will be easy. It's not worse +than any other job. It's better than being a singer on the streets. You +can stay here with Alexix. We'll get a job for Mattia also, but not in +playing the cornet, oh no." + +I had no intention of staying at Varses; there was something else I had +set myself to do. I was about to leave the town without my curiosity +being satisfied when circumstances came about in which I learned, in all +their horror, the dangers to which the miners are exposed. + +On the day that I was to leave Varses a large block of coal fell on +Alexix's hand and almost crushed his finger. For several days he was +obliged to give the hand complete rest. Uncle Gaspard was in despair, +for now he had no one to push his car and he was afraid that he also +would be obliged to stay at home, and he could ill afford to do this. + +"Why can't I take his place?" I asked, when he returned home after +hunting in vain for a boy. + +"I was afraid the car would be too heavy for you, my boy," he said, "but +if you'd be willing to try, you'd help me a mighty lot. It is hard to +find a boy for a few days only." + +"And while you are down in the mine I'll go off with Capi and earn the +rest of the money for the cow," cried Mattia. + +The three months that we had lived together in the open air had +completely changed Mattia. He was no longer the poor, pale boy whom I +had found leaning up against the church; much less was he the monster +whom I had seen for the first time in Garofoli's attic, looking after +the soup, and from time to time clasping his hands over his poor aching +head. Mattia never had a headache now. He was never unhappy, neither was +he thin or sad. The beautiful sun and the fresh air had given him +health and spirits. On our tramps he was always laughing and in a good +humor, seeing the best side of everything, amused at anything, happy at +nothing. How lonely I would have been without him! + +We were so utterly different in character, perhaps that was why we got +on so well together. He had a sweet, sunny disposition, a little +careless, and with a delightful way of overcoming difficulties. We might +well have quarreled when I was teaching him to read and giving his +lessons in music, for I had not the patience of a schoolmaster. I was +often unjust to him, but never once did he show signs of anger. + +It was understood that while I was down in the mine Mattia and Capi were +to go off into the suburbs and give "musical and dramatic performances" +and thereby increase our fortune. Capi, to whom I explained this +arrangement, appeared to understand and accordingly barked approval. + +The next day, following close in Uncle Gaspard's footsteps, I went down +into the deep, dark mine. He bade me be very cautious, but there was no +need for his warning. It is not without a certain fear and anxiety that +one leaves the light of day to enter into the bowels of the earth. When +far down the gallery I instinctively looked back, but the daylight at +the end of the long black tube looked like a white globe,--like the moon +in a dark, starless sky. Soon the big, black pit yawned before us. Down +below I could see the swaying lamps of other miners as they descended +the ladder. We reached the stall where Uncle Gaspard worked on the +second level. All those employed in pushing the cars were young boys, +with the exception of one whom they called Professor. He was an old man +who, in his younger days had worked as a carpenter in the mine but +through an accident, which had crushed his fingers, had been obliged to +give up his trade. I was soon to learn what it meant to be a miner. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +IMPRISONED IN A MINE + + +A few days later, while pushing my car along the rails, I heard a +terrible roaring. The noise came from all sides. My first feeling was +one of terror and I thought only of saving myself, but I had so often +been laughed at for my fears that shame made me stay. I wondered if it +could be an explosion. Suddenly, hundreds of rats raced past me, fleeing +like a regiment of cavalry. Then I heard a strange sound against the +earth and the walls of the gallery, and the noise of running water. I +raced back to Uncle Gaspard. + +"Water's coming into the mine!" I cried. + +"Don't be silly." + +"Oh, listen!" + +There was something in my manner that forced Uncle Gaspard to stop his +work and listen. The noise was now louder and more sinister. + +"Race for your life. The mine's flooded!" he shouted. + +"Professor! Professor!" I screamed. + +We rushed down the gallery. The old man joined us. The water was rising +rapidly. + +"You go first," said the old man when we reached the ladder. + +We were not in a position to show politeness. Uncle Gaspard went first, +I followed, then came the professor. Before we had reached the top of +the ladder a rush of water fell, extinguishing our lamps. + +"Hold on," cried Uncle Gaspard. + +We clung to the rungs. But some men who were below us were thrown off. +The fall of water had turned into a veritable avalanche. + +We were on the first landing. Water was here also. We had no lights, for +our lamps had been put out. + +"I'm afraid we are lost," said the professor quietly; "say your prayers, +my boy." + +At this moment seven or eight miners with lamps came running in our +direction, trying to reach the ladder. The water was now rushing through +the mine in a regular torrent, dragging in its mad course pieces of +wood, whirling them round like feathers. + +"We must make for an airshaft, boys," said the professor. "That is the +only place where we might find refuge. Give me a lamp." + +Usually no one took any notice of the old man when he spoke, unless it +was to make fun of him, but the strongest man there had lost his nerve +and it was the voice of the old man, whom they had mocked so often, that +they were now ready to obey. A lamp was handed to him. He seized it and +dragged me along with him, taking the lead. He, more than any man, knew +every nook and corner of the mine. The water was up to my waist. The +professor led us to the nearest airshaft. Two miners refused to enter, +saying that we were throwing ourselves into a blind alley. They +continued along the gallery and we never saw them again. + +Then came a deafening noise. A rush of water, a splintering of wood, +explosions of compressed air, a dreadful roaring which terrified us. + +"It's the deluge," shrieked one. + +"The end of the world!" + +"Oh, God, have mercy on us." + +Hearing the men shrieking their cries of despair, the professor said +calmly, but in a voice to which all listened. + +"Courage, boys, now as we are going to stay here for a while we must get +to work. We can't stay long, huddled together like this. Let us scoop +out a hollow in the shale so as to have a place to rest upon." + +His words calmed the men. With hands and lamphooks they began to dig +into the soil. The task was difficult, for the airshaft in which we had +taken refuge was on a considerable slope and very slippery. And we knew +that it meant death if we made a false step. A resting place was made, +and we were able to stop and take note of each other. We were seven: the +professor, Uncle Gaspard, three miners, Pages, Comperou and Bergounhoux, +and a car pusher named Carrory, and myself. + +The noise in the mine continued with the same violence; there are no +words with which to describe the horrible uproar. It seemed to us that +our last hour had come. Mad with fear, we gazed at one another, +questioningly. + +"The evil genius of the mine's taking his revenge," cried one. + +"It's a hole broke through from the river above," I ventured to say. + +The professor said nothing. He merely shrugged his shoulder, as though +he could have argued out the matter in full day, under the shade of a +mulberry tree, eating an onion. + +"It's all folly about the genius of the mine," he said at last, "The +mine is flooded, that's a sure thing. But what has caused the flood, we +down here can't tell...." + +"Well, if you don't know what it is, shut up," cried the men. + +Now that we were dry and the water was not touching us, no one wanted to +listen to the old man. The authority which his coolness in danger had +gained for him was already lost. + +"We shan't die from drowning," he said at last, quietly; "look at the +flame in your lamps, how short it is now." + +"Don't be a wizard, what do you mean? Speak out." + +"I am not trying to be a wizard, but we shan't be drowned. We are in a +bell of air, and it is this compressed air which stops the water from +rising. This airshaft, without an outlet, is doing for us what the +diving bell does for the diver. The air has accumulated in the shaft +and now resists the water, which ebbs back." + +"It is the foul air that we have to fear.... The water is not rising a +foot now; the mine must be full...." + +"Where's Marius?" cried Pages, thinking of his only son, who worked on +the third level. + +"Oh, Marius! Marius," he shrieked. + +There was no reply, not even an echo. His voice did not go beyond our +"bell." + +Was Marius saved? One hundred and fifty men drowned! That would be too +horrible. One hundred and fifty men, at least, had gone down into the +mine, how many had been able to get out by the shafts, or had found a +refuge like ourselves? + +There was now utter silence in the mine. At our feet the water was quite +still, not a ripple, not a gurgle. The mine was full. This heavy +silence, impenetrable and deathly, was more stupefying than the +frightful uproar that we had heard when the water first rushed in. We +were in a tomb, buried alive, more than a hundred feet under ground. We +all seemed to feel the awfulness of our situation. Even the professor +seemed crushed down. Suddenly, I felt some warm drops fall on my hand. +It was Carrory.... He was crying, silently. Then came a voice, +shrieking: + +"Marius! my boy, Marius!" + +The air was heavy to breathe; I felt suffocated; there was a buzzing in +my ears. I was afraid, afraid of the water, the darkness, and death. +The silence oppressed me, the uneven, jagged walls of our place of +refuge seemed as though they would fall and crush me beneath their +weight. Should I never see Lise again, and Arthur, and Mrs. Milligan, +and dear old Mattia. Would they be able to make little Lise understand +that I was dead, and that I could not bring her news from her brothers +and sister! And Mother Barberin, poor Mother Barberin!... + +"In my opinion, they are not trying to rescue us," said Uncle Gaspard, +breaking the silence at last. "We can't hear a sound." + +"How can you think that of your comrades?" cried the professor hotly. +"You know well enough that in every mine accident the miners have never +deserted one another, and that twenty men, one hundred men, would sooner +be killed than leave a comrade without assistance. You know that well +enough." + +"That is true," murmured Uncle Gaspard. + +"Make no error, they are trying their hardest to reach us. They have two +ways, ... one is to bore a tunnel to us down here, the other is to drain +off the water." + +The men began a vague discussion as to how long it would take to +accomplish this task. All realized that we should have to remain at +least eight days in our tomb. Eight days! I had heard of miners being +imprisoned for twenty-four days, but that was in a story and this was +reality. When I was able to fully grasp what this meant, I paid no heed +to the talk around me. I was stunned. + +Again there was silence. All were plunged in thought. How long we +remained so I cannot tell, but suddenly there was a cry; + +"The pumps are at work!" + +This was said with one voice, for the sounds that had just reached our +ears had seemed to touch us by an electric current and we all rose up. +We should be saved! + +Carrory took my hand and squeezed it. + +"You're a good boy," he said. + +"No, you are," I replied. + +But he insisted energetically that I was a good boy. His manner was as +though he were intoxicated. And so he was; he was intoxicated with hope. +But before we were to see the beautiful sun again and hear the birds in +the trees, we were to pass through long, cruel days of agony, and wonder +in anguish if we should ever see the light of day again. + +We were all very thirsty. Pages wanted to go down and get some water, +but the professor advised him to stay where he was. He feared that the +débris which we had piled up would give way beneath his weight and that +he would fall into the water. + +"Remi is lighter, give him a boot, and he can go down and get water for +us all," he said. + +Carrory's boot was handed to me, and I prepared to slip down the bank. + +"Wait a minute," said the professor; "let me give you a hand." + +"Oh, but it's all right, professor," I replied; "if I fall in I can +swim." + +"Do as I tell you," he insisted; "take my hand." + +In his effort to help me he either miscalculated his step, or the coal +gave way beneath him, for he slid over the inclined plane and fell head +first into the black waters. The lamp, which he held to light me, rolled +after him and disappeared also. Instantly we were plunged in darkness, +for we were burning only one light,--there was a simultaneous cry from +every man. Fortunately, I was already in position to get to the water. +Letting myself slide down on my back, I slipped into the water after the +old man. + +In my wanderings with Vitalis I had learned to swim and to dive. I was +as much at ease in the water as on land, but how could I direct my +course in this black hole? I had not thought of that when I let myself +slip; I only thought that the old man would be drowned. Where should I +look? On which side should I swim? I was wondering, when I felt a firm +hand seize my shoulder. I was dragged beneath the water. Kicking out my +foot sharply, I rose to the surface. The hand was still grasping my +shoulder. + +"Hold on, professor," I cried; "keep your head up and we're saved!" + +Saved! neither one nor the other was saved. For I did not know which way +to swim. + +"Speak out, you fellows!" I cried. + +"Remi, where are you?" + +It was Uncle Gaspard's voice; it came from the left. + +"Light the lamp!" + +There was instantly a light. I had only to stretch out my hand to touch +the bank. With one hand I clutched at a block of coal and drew up the +old man. It was high time, for he had already swallowed a great deal of +water and was partly unconscious. I kept his head well above water and +he soon came round. Our companions took hold of him and pulled him up +while I hoisted him from behind. I clambered up in my turn. + +After this disagreeable accident which, for the moment, had caused us +some distraction, we again fell into fits of depression and despair, and +with them came thoughts of approaching death. I became very drowsy; the +place was not favorable for sleep; I could easily have rolled into the +water. Then the professor, seeing the danger I ran, took my head upon +his chest and put his arm around my body. He did not hold me very tight, +but enough to keep me from falling, and I laid there like a child on his +mother's knee. When I moved, half awake, he merely changed the position +of his arm that had grown stiff, then sat motionless again. + +"Sleep, little chap," he whispered, leaning over me; "don't be afraid. +I've got you, Remi." + +And I slept without fear, for I knew very well he would not let go of +me. + +We had no idea of time. We did not know if we had been there two days +or six days. Opinions differed. We spoke no more of our deliverance. +Death was in our hearts. + +"Say what you like, professor," cried Bergounhoux; "you have calculated +how long it will take them to pump out the water, but they'll never be +in time to save us. We shall die of hunger or suffocation...." + +"Have patience," answered the professor. "I know how long we can live +without food and I have made my calculations. They will do it in time." + +At this moment big Comperou burnt into sobs. + +"The good Lord is punishing me," he cried, "and I repent! I repent! If I +get out of here I swear to atone for the wrong I have done, and if I +don't get out you boys will make amends for me. You know Rouquette, who +was sentenced for five years for stealing a watch from Mother Vidal?... +I was the thief! I took it! Its under my bed now.... Oh...." + +"Throw him in the water," cried both Pages and Bergounhoux. + +"Do you want to appear, then, before the Lord with a crime on your +conscience?" cried the professor; "let him repent!" + +"I repent! I repent," wailed Comperou, more feebly than a child, in +spite of his great strength. + +"To the water! To the water!" cried Pages and Bergounhoux, trying to get +at the sinner, who was crouching behind the professor. + +"If you want to throw him in the water, you'll throw me with him!" + +"No! No!" + +Finally, they said they would not push him in the water, but upon one +condition; he was to be left in a corner and no one was to speak to him +or to pay any attention to him. + +"Yes, that's what he deserves," said the professor. "That's only fair." + +After the professor's words, which seemed like a judgment condemning +Comperou, we all huddled together and got as far away from him as +possible, leaving a space between us and the unfortunate man. For +several hours, I should think, he sat there, grief stricken, his lips +moving every now and again, to say: + +"I repent! I repent!" + +And then Pages and Bergounhoux would cry out: + +"It's too late! It's too late! You repent because you're afraid now; you +should have repented six months ago, a year ago." + +He gasped painfully, but still repeated: + +"I repent! I repent!" + +He was in a high fever; all his body shook and his teeth were +chattering. + +"I'm thirsty," he said; "give me the boot." There was no more water in +the boot. I got up to go and fetch some, but Pages, who had seen me, +called to me to stop, and at the same moment Uncle Gaspard pulled me by +the arm. + +"We swore we would pay no attention to him," he said. + +For some minutes Comperou repeated that he was thirsty; seeing that we +would not give him anything to drink, he rose up to go to the water +himself. + +"He'll drag down the rubbish!" cried Pages. + +"Let him at least have his freedom," said the professor. + +He had seen me go down by letting myself slide on my back. He wanted to +do the same, but I was light, whilst he was heavy. Scarcely was he on +his back than the coal gave way beneath him and, with his legs stretched +out and his arms striking into space, he slipped into the black hole. +The water splashed up to where we were. I leaned forward ready to go +down, but Uncle Gaspard and the professor each grasped me by the arm. + +Half dead, and trembling with horror, I drew myself back. + +Time passed. The professor was the only one who could speak with +courage. But our depression finally made his spirits droop. Our hunger +had become so great that we ate the rotten wood about us. Carrory, who +was like an animal, was the most famished of all; he had cut up his +other boot and was continually chewing the pieces of leather. Seeing +what hunger had led us to, I must confess that I began to have terrible +fears. Vitalis had often told me tales of men who had been shipwrecked. +In one story, a crew who had been shipwrecked on a desert island where +there was nothing to eat, had eaten the ship's boy. Seeing my companions +in such a famished state I wondered if that fate was to be mine. I knew +that the professor and Uncle Gaspard would never eat me, but of Pages, +Bergounhoux, and Carrory, especially Carrory with his great white teeth +which he dug into the leather of his boot, I was not quite so sure. + +Once, when I was half asleep, I had been surprised to hear the professor +speak in almost a whisper, as though he was dreaming. He was talking of +the clouds, the wind, and the sun. Then Pages and Bergounhoux began to +chatter with him in a foolish manner. Neither waited for the other to +reply. Uncle Gaspard seemed hardly to notice how foolish they were. Were +they all gone mad? What was to be done? + +Suddenly, I thought I would light a lamp. To economize we had decided +only to have a light when it was absolutely necessary. When they saw the +light they apparently regained their senses. I went to get some water +for them. The waters were going down! + +After a time they began to talk strangely again. My own thoughts were +vague and wild, and for long hours and perhaps days we laid there +chattering to one another foolishly. After a time we became quieter and +Bergounhoux said that before dying we should put down our last wishes. +We lit a lamp and Bergounhoux wrote for us all, and we each signed the +paper. I gave my dog and harp to Mattia and I expressed a wish for +Alexix to go to Lise and kiss her for me, and give her the dried rose +that was in my vest pocket. Dear little Lise.... + +After some time, I slipped down the bank again, and saw that the waters +were lowering considerably. I hurried back to my companions and told +them that now I could swim to the ladders and tell our rescuers in what +part of the mine we had taken refuge. The professor forbade me to go, +but I insisted. + +"Go on, Remi, and I'll give you my watch," cried Uncle Gaspard. + +The professor thought for a moment, then took my hand. + +"Do as you think, boy," he said; "you have a heart. I think that you are +attempting the impossible, but it is not the first time that what was +thought impossible has been successful. Kiss us, boy." + +I kissed the professor and Uncle Gaspard and then, having thrown off my +clothes, I went into the water. + +"You keep shouting all the while," I said, before taking the plunge; +"your voices will guide me." + +I wondered if the space under the roof of the gallery was big enough for +me to move freely. That was the question. After some strokes I found +that I could swim if I went gently. I knew that there was a meeting of +galleries not far away, but I had to be cautious, for if I made a +mistake in the course I should lose my way. The roof and the walls of +the gallery were not enough to guide me; on the ground there was a surer +guide, the rails. If I followed them I should be sure to find the +ladders. From time to time I let my feet go down and, having touched the +iron rails, I rose up again, gently. With the voices of my companions +behind me and the rails under my feet, I was not lost. As the voices +became less distinct, the noise of the pumps increased. I was advancing. +Thank God, I should soon see the light of day! + +Going straight down the middle of the gallery, I had only to turn to the +right to touch the rail. I went on a little farther, then dived again to +touch the rail. It was not there! I went from side to side of the +gallery, but there was no rail! + +I had made a mistake. + +The voices of my companions only reached me in the faintest murmur. I +took in a deep breath, then plunged again but with no more success. +There were no rails! + +I had taken the wrong level; without knowing, I must have turned back. +But how was it the others were not shouting. If they were I could not +hear them. I was distracted, for I did not know which way to turn in +this cold, black water. + +Then, suddenly, I heard the sounds of voices again and I knew which way +to turn. After having taken a dozen strokes back, I turned to the right, +then to the left, but only found the walls. Where were the rails? I was +sure now that I was in the right level, then I suddenly realized that +the railroad had been carried away by the rush of waters, and that I had +no guide. Under these circumstances it was impossible for me to carry +out my plan, and I was forced to turn back. + +I swam back quickly to our place of refuge, the voices guiding me. As I +approached, it seemed to me that my companions' voices were more assured +as though they felt stronger. I was soon at the entrance of the shaft! I +hallooed to them. + +"Come back; come back," shouted the professor. + +"I could not find the way," I called out. + +"Never mind, the tunnel is nearly finished: they hear our cries and we +can hear theirs. We shall soon speak." + +I climbed quickly up to our landing and listened. We could hear the +blows from the picks and the cries of those who worked for our freedom +came to us feebly, but yet very distinct. After the first rush of joy, I +realized that I was frozen. As there were no warm clothes to give me, +they buried me up to the neck in coal dust and Uncle Gaspard and the +professor huddled up against me to keep me warm. + +We knew now that our rescuers would soon reach us through the tunnel and +by the water, but these last hours of our imprisonment were the hardest +to bear. The blows from the picks continued, and the pumping had not +stopped for one moment. Strange, the nearer we reached the hour of our +deliverance, the weaker we grew. I was lying in the coal dust trembling, +but I was not cold. We were unable to speak. + +Suddenly, there was a noise in the waters of the gallery and, turning my +head, I saw a great light coming towards us. The engineer was at the +head of several men. He was the first to climb up to us. He had me in +his arms before I could say a word. + +It was time, for my heart was failing me, yet I was conscious that I was +being carried away, and I was wrapped up in a blanket after our rescuers +had waded through the water in the gallery. I closed my eyes; when I +opened them again it was daylight! We were in the open air! At the same +time something jumped on me. It was Capi. With a bound he had sprung +upon me as I laid in the engineer's arms. He licked my face again and +again. Then my hand was taken; I felt a kiss and heard a weak voice +murmuring: "Remi! oh, Remi!" + +It was Mattia. I smiled at him, then I glanced round. + +A mass of people were crowded together in two straight rows, leaving a +passage down the center. It was a silent crowd, for they had been +requested not to excite us by their cries, but their looks spoke for +their lips. In the first row I seemed to see some white surplices and +gilt ornaments which shone in the sun. They were the priests, who had +come to the entrance of the mine to offer prayers for our deliverance. +When we were brought out, they went down on their knees in the dust. + +Twenty arms were stretched out to take me, but the engineer would not +give me up. He carried me to the offices, where beds had been prepared +to receive us. + +Two days later I was walking down the village street followed by Mattia, +Alexix, and Capi. There were some who came and shook me by the hands +with tears in their eyes, and there were others who turned away their +heads. These were in mourning, and they asked themselves bitterly why +this orphan child had been saved when their fathers and sons were still +in the mine, ghastly corpses, drifting hither and thither in the dark +waters. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +ONCE MORE UPON THE WAY + + +I had made some friends in the mine. Such terrible experiences, born in +common, unites one. Uncle Gaspard and the professor, in particular, had +grown very fond of me and, although the engineer had not shared our +captivity, he had become attached to me like one is to a child that one +has snatched from death. He invited me to his house. I had to tell his +daughter all that had happened to us in the mine. + +Every one wanted to keep me at Varses. The engineer told me that if I +wished he would find me a position in the offices; Uncle Gaspard said he +would get me a permanent job in the mine; he seemed to think it quite +natural that I should return to the colliery; he himself was soon going +down again with that indifference that men show who are accustomed to +brave danger each day. I had no wish to go back. A mine was very +interesting, and I was very pleased that I had seen one, but I had not +the slightest desire to return. I preferred to have the sky over my +head, even a sky full of snow. The open-air life suited me better, and +so I told them. Every one was surprised, especially the professor. +Carrory, when he met me, called me a "chicken." + +During the time that they were all trying to persuade me to stay at +Varses, Mattia became very preoccupied and thoughtful. I questioned him, +but he always answered that nothing was the matter. It was not until I +told him that we were starting off on our tramps in three days' time, +that he admitted the cause of his sadness. + +"Oh, I thought that you would stay and that you would leave me," he +said. + +I gave him a good slap, so as to teach him not to doubt me. + +Mattia was quite able to look after himself now. While I was down in the +mine he had earned eighteen francs. He was very proud when he handed me +this large sum, for with the hundred and twenty-eight that we already +had, this made a total of one hundred and forty-six francs. We only +wanted four francs more to be able to buy the Prince's cow. + +"Forward! March! Children!" With baggage strapped on our back we set +forth on the road, with Capi barking and rolling in the dust for joy. + +Mattia suggested that we get a little more money before buying the cow; +the more money we had, the better the cow, and the better the cow, the +more pleased Mother Barberin would be. + +While tramping from Paris to Varses I had begun to give Mattia reading +lessons and elementary music lessons. I continued, these lessons now. +Either I was not a good teacher, which was quite possible, or Mattia was +not a good pupil, which also was quite possible; the lessons were not a +success. Often I got angry and, shutting the book with a bang, told him +that he was a thickhead. + +"That's true," he said, smiling; "my head is only soft when it's banged. +Garofoli found out that!" + +How could one keep angry at this reply. I laughed and we went on with +the lessons. But with music, from the beginning, he made astonishing +progress. In the end, he so confused me with his questions, that I was +obliged to confess that I could not teach him any more. This confession +mortified me exceedingly. I had been a very proud professor, and it was +humiliating for me not to be able to answer my pupil's questions. And he +did not spare me, oh, no! + +"I'd like to go and take one lesson from a real master," he said, "only +just one, and I'll ask him all the questions that I want answered." + +"Why didn't you take this lesson from a real master while I was in the +mine?" + +"Because I didn't want to take what he would charge out of your money." + +I was hurt when Mattia had spoken thus of a _real_ master, but my absurd +vanity could not hold out against his last words. + +"You're a good boy," I said; "my money is your money; you earn it also, +and more than I, very often. You can take as many lessons as you like, +and I'll take them with you." + +The master, the _real_ master that we required, was not a villager, but +an _artiste_, a great _artiste_, such as might be found only in +important towns. Consulting our map we found that the next big town was +Mendes. + +It was already night when we reached Mendes and, as we were tired out, +we decided that we could not take a lesson that evening. We asked the +landlady of the inn where we could find a good music master. She said +that she was very surprised that we asked such a question; surely, we +knew Monsieur Espinassous! + +"We've come from a distance," I said. + +"You must have come from a very great distance, then?" + +"From Italy," replied Mattia. + +Then she was no longer astonished, and she admitted that, coming from so +far then, we might not have heard of M. Espinassous. + +"Is this professor very busy?" I asked, fearing that such a celebrated +musician might not care to give just one lesson to two little urchins +like ourselves. + +"Oh, yes, I should say he is busy; how couldn't he be?" + +"Do you think that he would receive us to-morrow morning?" + +"Sure! He receives every one, when they have money in their pockets ... +naturally." + +We understood that, of course. + +Before going to sleep, we discussed all the questions that we intended +asking the celebrated professor the next day. Mattia was quite elated +at our luck in finding just the kind of musician we wanted. + +Next morning we took our instruments, Mattia his violin and I my harp, +and set out to find M. Espinassous. We did not take Capi, because we +thought that it would not do to call on such a celebrated person with a +dog. We tied him up in the inn stables. When we reached the house which +our landlady indicated was the professor's, we thought that we must have +made a mistake, for before the house two little brass plaques were +swinging, which was certainly not the sign of a music professor. The +place bore every appearance of a barber's shop. Turning to a man, who +was passing, we asked him if he could direct us to M. Espinassous' +house. + +"There it is," he said, pointing to the barber's shop. + +After all, why should not a professor live with a barber? We entered. +The shop was partitioned off into two equal parts. On the right were +brushes, combs, jars of cream, and barbers' chairs. On the left, hanging +on the walls and on the shelves, were various instruments, violins, +cornets, trombones, etc. + +"Monsieur Espinassous?" inquired Mattia. + +Fluttering like a bird, the dapper little man, who was in the act of +shaving a man, replied: "I am Monsieur Espinassous." + +I glanced at Mattia as much as to say that the barber musician was not +the man we were looking for, that it would be wasting good money to +consult him, but Mattia, instead of understanding my look, sat down in a +chair with a deliberate air. + +"Will you cut my hair after you have shaved that gentleman?" he asked. + +"Certainly, young man, and I'll give you a shave also, if you like." + +"Thanks," replied Mattia. + +I was abashed at his assurance. He looked at me out of the corner of his +eye, to ask me to wait before getting annoyed. + +When the man was shaved, M. Espinassous, with towel over his arm, +prepared to cut Mattia's hair. + +"Monsieur," said Mattia, while the barber tied the sheet round his neck, +"my friend and I had an argument, and as we know that you are a +celebrated musician, we thought that you would give us your advice and +settle the matter for us." + +"What is it, young man?" + +Now I knew what Mattia was driving at! First of all, he wanted to see if +this barber-musician was capable of replying to our questions; if so, he +intended to get a music lesson at the price of a hair cut. + +All the while Mattia was having his hair cut, he asked questions. The +barber-musician was highly amused, but answered each question put to him +quickly and with pleasure. When we were ready to leave he asked Mattia +to play something on his violin. Mattia played a piece. + +"And you don't know a note of music!" cried the barber, clapping his +hands, and looking affectionately at Mattia as though he had known and +loved him all his life. "It is wonderful!" + +Mattia took a clarionette from amongst the instruments and played on it; +then a cornet. + +"Why, the youngster's a prodigy!" cried M. Espinassous in rapture; "if +you will stay here with me I'll make you a great musician. In the +mornings you shall learn to shave my customers and the rest of the day +you shall study music. Don't think, because I'm a barber, I don't know +music. One has to live!" + +I looked at Mattia. What was he going to reply? Was I to lose my friend, +my chum, my brother? + +"Think for your own good, Mattia," I said, but my voice shook. + +"Leave my friend?" he cried, linking his arm in mine; "that I never +could, but thank you all the same, Monsieur." + +M. Espinassous insisted, and told Mattia that later they would find the +means to send him to the Conservatoire in Paris, because he would surely +be a great musician! + +"Leave Remi? never!" + +"Well, then," replied the barber, sorrowfully, "let me give you a book +and you can learn what you do not know from that." He took a book out of +one of the drawers, entitled, "The Theory of Music." It was old and +torn, but what did that matter? Taking a pen, he sat down and wrote on +the first page: + +"To a child who, when he becomes celebrated, will remember the barber of +Mendes." + +I don't know if there were any other professors of music at Mendes, but +that was the only one we knew, and we never forgot him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +FRIENDSHIP THAT IS TRUE + + +I loved Mattia when we arrived at Mendes, but when we left the town I +loved him even more. I could not tell him before the barber how I felt +when he cried out: "Leave my friend!" + +I took his hand and squeezed it as we tramped along. + +"It's till death doth us part now, Mattia," I said. + +"I knew that long ago," he replied, smiling at me with his great, dark +eyes. + +We heard that there was going to be an important cattle fair at Ussel, +so we decided to go there and buy the cow. It was on our way to +Chavanon. We played in every town and village on the road, and by the +time we had reached Ussel we had collected two hundred and forty francs. +We had to economize in every possible manner to save this sum, but +Mattia was just as interested and eager to buy the animal as I. He +wanted it to be white; I wanted brown in memory of poor Rousette. We +both agreed, however, that she must be very gentle and give plenty of +milk. + +As neither of us knew by what signs one could tell a good cow, we +decided to employ the services of a veterinarian. We had heard many +stories of late how people had been deceived when buying a cow, and we +did not want to run any risk. It would be an expense to employ a +veterinarian, but that could not be helped. We had heard of one man who +had bought an animal for a very low price and when he had got her home +he found that she had a false tail; another man, so we were told, had +bought a cow which seemed to be in a very healthy state, and had every +appearance of giving plenty of milk, but she only gave two glasses of +milk in twenty-four hours. By a little trick, practiced by the cattle +dealer, the animal was made to look as though she had plenty of milk. + +Mattia said that as far as the false tail went we had nothing to fear, +for he would hang onto the tail of every cow with all his might, before +we entered into any discussion with the seller. When I told him that if +it were a real tail he would probably get a kick in the stomach or on +his head, his imagination cooled somewhat. + +It was several years since I had arrived at Ussel with Vitalis, where he +had bought me my first pair of shoes with nails. Alas! out of the six of +us who started, Capi and I were the only ones left. As soon as we got to +the town, after having left our baggage at the same inn where I had +stayed before with Vitalis and the dogs, we began to look about for a +veterinarian. We found one and he seemed very amused when we described +to him the kind of a cow we wanted, and asked if he would come and buy +it for us. + +"But what in the world do you two boys want with a cow, and have you +got the money?" he demanded. + +We told him how much money we had, and how we got it, and that we were +going to give a present, a surprise, to Mother Barberin of Chavanon, who +had looked after me when I was a baby. He showed a very kindly interest +then, and promised to meet us the next morning at the fair at seven +o'clock. When we asked him his charges he refused flatly to accept +anything. He sent us off laughing and told us to be at the fair on time. + +The next day at daybreak the town was full of excitement. From our room +at the inn we could hear the carts and wagons rolling over the +cobblestones in the street below, and the cows bellowing, the sheep +bleating, the farmers shouting at their animals and joking with each +other. We jumped into our clothes and arrived at the fair at six +o'clock, for we wanted to make a selection before the veterinarian +arrived. + +What beautiful cows they were, ... all colors, and all sizes, some fat, +some thin, and some with their calves; there were also horses and great +fat pigs, scooping holes in the ground, and little plump sucking pigs, +squealing as though they were being skinned alive. But we had eyes for +nothing but the cows; they stood very quiet, placidly chewing. They +permitted us to make a thorough examination, merely blinking their +eyelids. After one hour's inspection, we had found seventeen that +pleased us, this for one quality, that for another, a third because she +was red, two because they were white, which, of course, brought up a +discussion between Mattia and myself. The veterinarian arrived. We +showed him the cows we liked. + +"I think this one ought to be a good one," Mattia said, pointing to a +white animal. + +"I think that is a better one," I said, indicating a red one. + +The veterinarian stopped the argument we had begun by ignoring both and +passing on to a third one. This one had slim legs, red coat with brown +ears and cheeks, eyes bordered with black, and a whitish circle around +her muzzle. + +"This is just the one you want," said the veterinarian. + +It was a beauty! Mattia and I now saw that this was the best. The +veterinarian asked a heavy looking peasant, who held the cow by a rope, +how much he wanted for it. + +"Three hundred francs," he replied. + +Our mouths dropped. Three hundred francs! I made a sign to the +veterinarian that we must pass on to another; he made another sign that +he would drive a bargain. Then a lively discussion commenced between the +veterinarian and the peasant. Our bidder went up to 170, the peasant +came down to 280. When they reached this sum, the veterinarian began to +examine the cow more critically. She had weak legs, her neck was too +short, her horns too long, she hadn't any lungs and her teats were not +well formed. No, she certainly would not give much milk. + +The peasant said that as we knew so much about cows, he would let us +have her for 250 francs, because he felt sure she would be in good +hands. Thereupon we began to get scared, for both Mattia and I thought +that it must be a poor cow then. + +"Let us go and see some others," I suggested, touching the +veterinarian's arm. + +Hearing this, the man came down ten francs. Then, little by little, he +came down to 210 francs, but he stopped there. The veterinarian had +nudged me and given me to understand that he was not serious in saying +what he did about the cow, that it was an excellent animal, but then 210 +francs was a large sum for us. + +During this time Mattia had gone behind her and pulled a long wisp of +hair from her tail and the animal had given him a kick. That decided me. + +"All right, 210 francs," I said, thinking the matter was settled. I held +out my hand to take the rope. + +"Have you brought a halter?" asked the man. "I'm selling my cow, not the +halter." + +He said that, as we were friends, he would let me have the halter for +sixty sous. We needed a halter, so I parted with the sixty sous, +calculating that we should now have but twenty sous left. I counted out +the two hundred and thirteen francs, then again I stretched out my hand. + +"Have you got a rope?" inquired the man. "I've sold you the halter, but +I haven't sold you the rope." + +The rope cost us our last twenty sous. + +The cow was finally handed over to us, but we had not a sou left to buy +food for the animal, nor for ourselves. After warmly thanking the +veterinarian for his kindness, we shook hands and said good-by to him, +and went back to the inn, where we tied our cow up in the stable. As it +was a very busy day in the town on account of the fair, and people from +all parts had come in, Mattia and I thought that it would be better for +each to go his own way and see what we could make. In the evening Mattia +brought back four francs and I three francs fifty centimes. + +With seven francs fifty we felt that we were again rich. We persuaded +the kitchen maid to milk our cow and we had the milk for supper. Never +had we tasted anything so good! We were so enthusiastic about the +quality of the milk that we went into the stable as soon as we had +finished to embrace our treasure. The cow evidently appreciated this +caress, for she licked our faces to show her appreciation. + +To understand the pleasure that we felt at kissing our cow and to be +kissed by her, it must be remembered that neither Mattia nor I had been +overburdened with caresses; our fate had not been that of the petted +and pampered children who are obliged to defend themselves against too +many kisses. + +The next morning we rose with the sun and started for Chavanon. How +grateful I was to Mattia for the help he had given me; without him I +never could have collected such a big sum. I wanted to give him the +pleasure of leading the cow, and he was very proud indeed to pull her by +the rope while I walked behind. She looked very fine; she walked along +slowly, swaying a little, holding herself like an animal that is aware +of her value. I did not want to tire her out, so I decided not to get to +Chavanon that evening late; better, I thought, get there early in the +morning. That is what we intended to do; this is what happened: + +I intended to stay the night in the village where I had spent my first +night with Vitalis, when Capi, seeing me so unhappy, came to me and lay +down beside me. Before reaching this village we came to a nice green +spot, and, throwing down our baggage, we decided to rest. We made our +cow go down into a ditch. At first I wanted to hold her by the rope, but +she seemed very docile, and quite accustomed to grazing, so after a time +I twisted the rope around her horns and sat down near her to eat my +supper. Naturally we had finished eating long before she had, so after +having admired her for some time and not knowing what to do next, we +began to play a little game with each other. When we had finished our +game, she was still eating. As I went to her, she pulled at the grass +sharply, as much as to say that she was still hungry. + +"Wait a little," said Mattia. + +"Don't you know that a cow can eat all day long?" I replied. + +"Well, wait a little." + +We got our baggage and instruments together, but still she would not +stop eating. + +"I'll play her a piece on the cornet," said Mattia, who found it +difficult to keep still. "There was a cow at Gassot's Circus and she +liked music." + +He commenced to play a lively march. + +At the first note the cow lifted up her head; then suddenly, before I +could throw myself at her horns to catch hold of the rope, she had gone +off at a gallop. We raced after her as fast as we could, calling to her +to stop. I shouted to Capi to stop her. Now one cannot be endowed with +every talent. A cattle driver's dog would have jumped at her nose, but +Capi was a genius, so he jumped at her legs. Naturally, this made her +run faster. She raced back to the last village we had passed through. As +the road was straight, we could see her in the distance, and we saw +several people blocking her way and trying to catch hold of her. We +slackened our speed, for we knew now that we should not lose her. All we +should have to do would be to claim her from the good people who had +stopped her going farther. There was quite a crowd gathered round her +when we arrived on the scene, and instead of giving her up to us at +once, as we expected they would, they asked us _how_ we got the animal +and _where_ we got her. They insisted that we had stolen her and that +she was running back to her owner. They declared that we ought to go to +prison until the truth could be discovered. At the very mention of the +word "prison" I turned pale and began to stammer. I was breathless from +my race and could not utter a word. At this moment a policeman arrived, +and, in a few words, the whole affair was explained to him. As it did +not seem at all clear, he decided to take possession of the cow and have +us locked up until we could prove that it belonged to us. The whole +village seemed to be in the procession which ran behind us up to the +town hall, which was also the station house. The mob pushed us and +sneered at us and called us the most horrible names, and I do believe +that if the officer had not defended us they would have lynched us as +though we were criminals of the deepest dye. The man who had charge of +the town hall, and who was also jailer and sheriff, did not want to +admit us. I thought what a kind man! However, the policeman insisted +that we be locked up, and the jailer finally turned the big key in a +double-locked door and pushed us into the prison. Then I saw why he had +made some difficulty about receiving us. He had put his provision of +onions to dry in this prison and they were strewn out on every bench. He +heaped them all together in a corner. We were searched, our money, +matches and knives taken from us. Then we were locked up for the night. + +"I wish you'd give me a good slap," said Mattia miserably, when we were +alone; "box my ears or do something to me." + +"I was as big a fool as you to let you play the cornet to a cow," I +replied. + +"Oh, I feel so bad about it," he said brokenly; "our poor cow, the +Prince's cow!" He began to cry. + +Then I tried to console him by telling him that our situation was not +very serious. We would prove that we bought the cow; we would send to +Ussel for the veterinarian ... he would be a witness. + +"But if they say we stole the money to buy it," he said, "we can't prove +that we earned it, and when one is unfortunate they always think you're +guilty." That was true. + +"And who'll feed her?" went on Mattia dismally. + +Oh, dear, I did hope that they would feed our poor cow. + +"And what are we going to say when they question us in the morning?" +asked Mattia. + +"Tell them the truth." + +"And then they'll hand you over to Barberin, or if Mother Barberin is +alone at her place and they question her to see if we are lying, we +can't give her a surprise." + +"Oh, dear!" + +"You've been away from Mother Barberin for a long time; how do you know +if she isn't dead?" + +This terrible thought had never occurred to me, and yet poor Vitalis had +died, ... how was it I had not thought that I might lose her.... + +"Why didn't you say that before?" I demanded. + +"Because when I'm happy I don't have those ideas. I have been so happy +at the thought of offering your cow to Mother Barberin and thinking how +pleased she'd be, I never thought before that she might be dead." + +It must have been the influence of this dismal room, for we could only +see the darkest side of everything. + +"And, oh," cried Mattia, starting up and throwing out his arms, "if +Mother Barberin is dead and that awful Barberin is alive and we go +there, he'll take our cow and keep it himself." + +It was late in the afternoon when the door was thrown open and an old +gentleman with white hair came into our prison. + +"Now, you rogues, answer this gentleman," said the jailer, who +accompanied him. + +"That's all right, that's all right," said the gentleman, who was the +public prosecutor, "I'll question this one." With his finger he +indicated me. "You take charge of the other; I'll question him later." + +I was alone with the prosecutor. Fixing me with his eye, he told me that +I was accused of having stolen a cow. I told him that we bought the +animal at the fair at Ussel, and I named the veterinarian who had +assisted us in the purchase. + +"That will be verified," he replied. "And now what made you buy that +cow?" + +I told him that I was offering it as a token of affection to my foster +mother. + +"Her name?" he demanded. + +"Madame Barberin of Chavanon," I replied. + +"The wife of a mason who met with a serious accident in Paris a few +years ago. I know her. That also will be verified." + +"Oh!..." + +I became very confused. Seeing my embarrassment, the prosecutor pressed +me with questions, and I had to tell him that if he made inquiries of +Madame Barberin our cow would not be a surprise after all, and to make +it a surprise had been our chief object. But in the midst of my +confusion I felt a great satisfaction to know that Mother Barberin was +still alive, and in the course of the questions that were put to me I +learned that Barberin had gone back to Paris some time ago. This +delighted me. + +Then came the question that Mattia had feared. + +"But how did you get all the money to buy the cow?" + +I explained that from Paris to Varses and from Varses to Ussel we had +collected this sum, sou by sou. + +"But what were you doing in Varses?" he asked. + +Then I was forced to tell him that I had been in a mine accident. + +"Which of you two is Remi?" he asked, in a softened voice. + +"I am, sir," I replied. + +"To prove that, you tell me how the catastrophe occurred. I read the +whole account of it in the papers. You cannot deceive me. I can tell if +you really are Remi. Now, be careful." + +I could see that he was feeling very lenient towards us. I told him my +experience in the mine, and when I had finished my story, I thought from +his manner, which was almost affectionate, that he would give us our +freedom at once, but instead he went out of the room, leaving me alone, +a prey to my thoughts. After some time he returned with Mattia. + +"I am going to have your story investigated at Ussel," he said. "If it +is true, as I hope it is, you will be free to-morrow." + +"And our cow?" asked Mattia anxiously. + +"Will be given back to you." + +"I didn't mean that," replied Mattia; "but who'll feed her, who'll milk +her?" + +"Don't worry, youngster," said the prosecutor. + +Mattia smiled contentedly. + +"Ah, then if they milk our cow," he asked, "may we have some milk for +supper?" + +"You certainly shall!" + +As soon as we were alone I told Mattia the great news that had almost +made me forget that we were locked up. + +"Mother Barberin is alive, and Barberin has gone to Paris!" I said. + +"Ah, then the Prince's cow will make a triumphal entry." + +He commenced to dance and sing with joy. Carried away by his gayety, I +caught him by the hands, and Capi, who until then had been lying in a +corner, quiet and thoughtful, jumped up and took his place between us, +standing up on his hind paws. We then threw ourselves into such a wild +dance that the jailer rushed in to see what was the matter, probably +afraid for his onions. He told us to stop, but he spoke very differently +to what he had before. By that, I felt that we were not in a very +serious plight. I had further proof of this when a moment later he came +in carrying a big bowl of milk, our cow's milk. And that was not all. He +brought a large piece of white bread and some cold veal, which he said +the prosecutor had sent us. Decidedly, prisons were not so bad after +all; dinner and lodging for nothing! + +Early the next morning the prosecutor came in with our friend the +veterinarian, who had wanted to come himself to see that we got our +freedom. Before we left, the prosecutor handed us an official stamped +paper. + +"See, I'm giving you this," he said; "you are two silly boys to go +tramping through the country without any papers. I have asked the mayor +to make out this passport for you. This is all you will need to protect +you in the future. Good luck, boys." + +He shook hands with us, and so did the veterinarian. + +We had entered the village miserably, but we left in triumph. Leading +our cow by the rope and walking with heads held high, we glanced over +our shoulders at the villagers, who were standing on their doorsteps +staring at us. + +I did not want to tire our cow, but I was in a hurry to get to Chavanon +that same day, so we set out briskly. By evening we had almost reached +my old home. Mattia had never tasted pancakes, and I had promised him +some as soon as we arrived. On the way I bought one pound of butter, two +pounds of flour and a dozen eggs. We had now reached the spot where I +had asked Vitalis to let me rest, so that I could look down on Mother +Barberin's house, as I thought for the last time. + +"Take the rope," I said to Mattia. + +With a spring I was on the parapet. Nothing had been changed in our +valley; it looked just the same; the smoke was even coming out of the +chimney. As it came towards us it seemed to me I could smell oak leaves. +I jumped down from the parapet and hugged Mattia, Capi sprang up on me, +and I squeezed them both tight. + +"Come, let's get there as quickly as possible now," I cried. + +"What a pity," sighed Mattia. "If this brute only loved music, what a +triumphal entry we could make." + +As we arrived at one of the turns in the road, we saw Mother Barberin +come out of her cottage and go off in the direction of the village. What +was to be done? We had intended to spring a surprise upon her. We should +have to think of something else. + +Knowing that the door was always on the latch, I decided to go straight +into the house, after tying our cow up in the cowshed. We found the shed +full of wood now, so we heaped it up in a corner, and put our cow in +poor Rousette's place. + +When we got into the house, I said to Mattia: "Now, I'll take this seat +by the fire so that she'll find me here. When she opens the gate, you'll +hear it creak; then you hide yourself with Capi." + +I sat down in the very spot where I had always sat on a winter night. I +crouched down, making myself look as small as possible, so as to look as +near like Mother Barberin's little Remi as I could. From where I sat I +could watch the gate. I looked round the kitchen. Nothing was changed, +everything was in the same place; a pane of glass that I had broken +still had the bit of paper pasted over it, black with smoke and age. +Suddenly I saw a white bonnet. The gate creaked. + +"Hide yourself quickly," I said to Mattia. + +I made myself smaller and smaller. The door opened and Mother Barberin +came in. She stared at me. + +"Who is there?" she asked. + +I looked at her without answering; she stared back at me. Suddenly she +began to tremble. + +"Oh, Lord, is it my Remi!" she murmured. + +I jumped up and caught her in my arms. + +"Mamma!" + +"My boy! my boy!" was all that she could say, as she laid her head on my +shoulder. + +Some minutes passed before we had controlled our emotion. I wiped away +her tears. + +"Why, how you've grown, my boy," she cried, holding me at arms' length, +"you're so big and so strong! Oh, my Remi!" + +A stifled snort reminded me that Mattia was under the bed. I called him. +He crept out. + +"This is Mattia," I said, "my brother." + +"Oh, then you've found your parents?" she cried. + +"No, he's my chum, but just like a brother. And this is Capi," I added, +after she had greeted Mattia. "Come and salute your master's mother, +Capitano." + +Capi got on his hind paws and bowed gravely to Mother Barberin. She +laughed heartily. Her tears had quite vanished. Mattia made me a sign to +spring our surprise. + +"Let's go and see how the garden looks," I said. + +"I have kept your bit just as you arranged it," she said, "for I knew +that some day you would come back." + +"Did you get my Jerusalem artichokes?" + +"Ah, you planted them to surprise me! You always liked to give +surprises, my boy." + +The moment had come. + +"Is the cowshed just the same since poor Rousette went?" I asked. + +"Oh, no; I keep my wood there now." + +We had reached the shed by this time. I pushed open the door and at once +our cow, who was hungry, began to bellow. + +"A cow! A cow in my cowshed!" cried Mother Barberin. + +Mattia and I burst out laughing. + +"It's a surprise," I cried, "and a better one than the Jerusalem +artichokes." + +She looked at me in a dazed, astonished manner. + +"Yes, it's a present for you. I did not come back with empty hands to +the mamma who was so good to the little lost boy. This is to replace +Rousette. Mattia and I bought it for you with the money we earned." + +"Oh, the dear boys!" she cried, kissing us both. + +She now went inside the shed to examine her present. At each discovery +she gave a shriek of delight. + +"What a beautiful cow," she exclaimed. + +Then she turned round suddenly. + +"Say, you must be very rich now?" + +"I should say so," laughed Mattia; "we've got fifty-eight sous left." + +I ran to the house to fetch the milk pail, and while in the house I +arranged the butter, eggs, and flour in a display on the table, then +ran back to the shed. How delighted she was when she had a pail +three-quarters full of beautiful frothy milk. + +There was another burst of delight when she saw the things on the table +ready for pancakes, which I told her we were dying to have. + +"You must have known that Barberin was in Paris, then?" she said. I +explained to her how I had learned so. + +"I will tell you why he has gone," she said, looking at me +significantly. + +"Let's have the pancakes first," I said; "don't let's talk about him. I +have not forgotten how he sold me for forty francs, and it was my fear +of him, the fear that he would sell me again, that kept me from writing +to tell you news of myself." + +"Oh, boy, I thought that was why," she said, "but you mustn't speak +unkindly of Barberin." + +"Well, let's have the pancakes now," I said, hugging her. + +We all set briskly to prepare the ingredients and before long Mattia and +I were cramming pancakes down our throats. Mattia declared that he had +never tasted anything so fine. As soon as we had finished one we held +out our plates for another, and Capi came in for his share. Mother +Barberin was scandalized that we should give a dog pancakes, but we +explained to her that he was the chief actor in our company and a +genius, and that he was treated by us with every consideration. Later, +while Mattia was out getting some wood ready for the next morning, she +told me why Barberin had gone to Paris. + +"Your family is looking for you," she said, almost in a whisper. "That's +what Barberin has gone up to Paris about. He's looking for you." + +"My family," I exclaimed. "Oh, have I a family of my own? Speak, tell +all, Mother Barberin, dear Mother Barberin!" + +Then I got frightened. I did not believe that my family was looking for +me. Barberin was trying to find me so that he could sell me again. I +would not be sold! I told my fears to Mother Barberin, but she said no, +my family was looking for me. Then she told me that a gentleman came to +the house who spoke with a foreign accent, and he asked Barberin what +had become of the little baby that he had found many years ago in Paris. +Barberin asked him what business that was of his. This answer was just +like Barberin would give. + +"You know from the bakehouse one can hear everything that is said in the +kitchen," said Mother Barberin, "and when I knew that they were talking +about you, I naturally listened. I got nearer and then I trod on a twig +of wood that broke." + +"'Oh, we're not alone,' said the gentleman to Barberin. + +"'Yes, we are; that's only my wife,' he replied. The gentleman then said +it was very warm in the kitchen and that they could talk better outside. +They went out and it was three hours later when Barberin came back +alone. I tried to make him tell me everything, but the only thing he +would say was that this man was looking for you, but that he was not +your father, and that he had given him one hundred francs. Probably he's +had more since. From this, and the fine clothes you wore when he found +you, we think your parents must be rich. + +"Then Jerome said he had to go off to Paris," she continued, "to find +the musician who hired you. This musician said that a letter sent to Rue +Mouffetard to a man named Garofoli would reach him." + +"And haven't you heard from Barberin since he went?" I asked, surprised +that he had sent no news. + +"Not a word," she said. "I don't even know where he is living in the +city." + +Mattia came in just then. I told him excitedly that I had a family, and +that my parents were looking for me. He said he was pleased for me, but +he did not seem to share my joy and enthusiasm. I slept little that +night. Mother Barberin had told me to start off to Paris and find +Barberin at once and not delay my parent's joy at finding me. I had +hoped that I could spend several days with her, and yet I felt that she +was right. I would have to see Lise before going. That could be managed, +for we could go to Paris by way of the canal. As Lise's uncle kept the +locks and lived in a cottage on the banks, we could stop and see her. + +I spent that day with Mother Barberin, and in the evening we discussed +what I would do for her when I was rich. She was to have all the things +she wanted. There was not a wish of hers that should not be gratified +when I had money. + +"The cow that you have given me in your poor days will be more to me +than anything you can give me when you're rich, Remi," she said fondly. + +The next day, after bidding dear Mother Barberin a loving farewell, we +started to walk along the banks of the canal. Mattia was very +thoughtful. I knew what was the matter. He was sorry that I had rich +parents. As though that would make any difference in our friendship! I +told him that he should go to college and that he should study music +with the very best masters, but he shook his head sadly. I told him that +he should live with me as my brother, and that my parents would love him +just the same because he was my friend. But still he shook his head. + +In the meantime, as I had not my rich parents' money to spend, we had to +play in all the villages through which we passed to get money for our +food. And I also wanted to make some money to buy a present for Lise. +Mother Barberin had said that she valued the cow more than anything I +could give her when I became rich, and perhaps, I thought, Lise would +feel the same about a gift. I wanted to give her a doll. Fortunately a +doll would not cost so much as a cow. The next town we came to I bought +her a lovely doll with fair hair and blue eyes. + +Walking along the banks of the canal I often thought of Mrs. Milligan +and Arthur and their beautiful barge, and wondered if we should meet it +on the canal. But we never saw it. + +One evening we could see in the distance the house where Lise lived. It +stood amongst the trees and seemed to be in an atmosphere of mist. We +could see the window lit up by the flames from a big fire inside. The +reddish light fell across our path as we drew nearer. My heart beat +quickly. I could see them inside having supper. The door and the window +were shut, but there were no curtains to the window, and I looked in and +saw Lise sitting beside her aunt. I signed to Mattia and Capi to be +silent, and then taking my harp from my shoulder, I put it on the +ground. + +"Oh, yes," whispered Mattia, "a serenade. What a fine idea!" + +"No, not you; I'll play alone." + +I struck the first notes of my Neapolitan song. I did not sing, for I +did not want my voice to betray me. As I played, I looked at Lise. She +raised her head quickly and her eyes sparkled. Then I commenced to sing. +She jumped from her chair and ran to the door. In a moment she was in my +arms. Aunt Catherine then came out and invited us in to supper. Lise +quickly placed two plates on the table. + +"If you don't mind," I said, "will you put a third; we have a little +friend with us." And I pulled out the doll from my bag and placed her in +the chair next to Lise. The look that she gave me I shall never forget! + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MOTHER, BROTHERS AND SISTERS + + +If I had not been in a hurry to get to Paris I should have stayed a long +time with Lise. We had so much to say to each other and could say so +little in the language that we used. She told me with signs how good her +uncle and aunt had been to her and what beautiful rides she had in the +barges, and I told her how I had nearly perished in the mine where +Alexix worked and that my family were looking for me. That was the +reason that I was hurrying to Paris and that was why it had been +impossible for me to go and see Etiennette. + +Naturally most of the talk was about my family, my rich family and all I +would do when I had money. I would make her father, brothers, sisters, +and above all herself, happy. Lise, unlike Mattia, was delighted. She +quite believed that if one had money one ought to be very happy, +because, would not her father have been happy if he had only had the +money to pay his debts? We took long walks, all three of us, Lise, +Mattia and I, accompanied by the doll and Capi. I was very happy those +few days. In the evening we sat in front of the house when it was not +too damp and before the fireplace when the mist was thick. I played the +harp and Mattia played his violin or cornet. Lise preferred the harp, +which made me very proud. When the time came and we had to separate and +go to bed, I played and sang her my Neapolitan song. + +Yet we had to part and go on our way. I told her that I would come back +for her soon. My last words to her were: "I'll come and fetch you in a +carriage drawn by four horses." + +And she quite believed me and she made a motion as though she were +cracking a whip to urge on the horses. She also, the same as I, could +see my riches and my horses and carriages. + +I was so eager to get to Paris now that if it had not been for Mattia I +would have stopped only to collect what was absolutely necessary for our +food. We had no cow to buy now, nor doll. It was not for me to take +money to my rich parents. + +"Let us get all we can," said Mattia, forcing me to take my harp, "for +we don't know if we shall find Barberin at once. One would think that +you had forgotten that night when you were dying of hunger." + +"Oh, I haven't," I said lightly, "but we're sure to find him at once. +You wait." + +"Yes, but I have not forgotten how I leaned up against the church that +day when you found me. Ah, I don't want to be hungry in Paris." + +"We'll dine all the better when we get to my parents'," I replied. + +"Well, let's work just as though we are buying another cow," urged +Mattia. + +This was very wise advice but I must admit that I did not sing with the +same spirit. To get the money to buy a cow for Mother Barberin or a doll +for Lise was quite a different matter. + +"How lazy you'll be when you're rich," said Mattia. The nearer we got to +Paris the gayer I became; and the more melancholy grew Mattia. As I had +assured him that we should not be parted I wondered why he should be sad +now. Finally, when we reached the gates of Paris, he told me how great +was his fear of Garofoli, and that if he saw him he knew that he would +take him again. + +"You know how afraid you are of Barberin, so you can imagine how I fear +Garofoli. If he's out of prison he'll be sure to catch me. Oh, my poor +head; how he used to bang it! And then he will part us; of course he'd +like to have you as one of his pupils, but he could not force you to +stay, but he has a right to me. He's my uncle." + +I had not thought of Garofoli. I arranged with Mattia that I should go +to the various places that Mother Barberin had mentioned as to where I +might find Barberin. Then I would go to the Rue Mouffetard and after +that he should meet me at seven o'clock outside the Notre Dame +Cathedral. + +We parted as though we were never going to meet again. Mattia went in +one direction, I in another. I had written down on paper the names of +the places where Barberin had lived before. I went first to one place, +then to another. At one lodging house they told me that he had lived +there four years ago but that he had not been there since. The landlord +told me that he'd like to catch the rogue, for he owed him one week's +rent. I grew very despondent. There was only one place left for me to +inquire; that was at a restaurant. The man who kept the place said that +he had not seen him for a very long time, but one of the customers +sitting eating at a table called out that he had been living at the +Hotel du Cantal of late. + +Before going to the Hotel du Cantal I went to Garofoli's place to see if +I could find out something about him so that I could take back some news +to poor Mattia. When I reached the yard I saw, as on my first visit, the +same old man hanging up dirty rags outside the door. + +"Has Garofoli returned?" I asked. + +The old man looked at me without replying, then began to cough. I could +see that he would not tell me anything unless I let him know that _I_ +knew all about Garofoli. + +"You don't mean to say he is still in prison?" I exclaimed. "Why, I +thought he'd got out long ago." + +"No, he's got another three months yet." + +Garofoli three more months in prison! Mattia could breathe. I left the +horrible yard as quickly as possible and hurried off to the Hotel du +Cantal. I was full of hope and joy and quite disposed to think kindly of +Barberin; if it had not been for Barberin, I might have died of cold +and hunger when I was a baby. It was true he had taken me from Mother +Barberin to sell me to a stranger, but then he had no liking for me and +perhaps he was forced to do it for the money. After all it was through +him that I was finding my parents. So now I ought not to harbor any +bitterness against him. + +I soon reached the Hotel du Cantal which was only a hotel in name, being +nothing better than a miserable lodging house. + +"I want to see a man named Barberin; he comes from Chavanon," I said to +a dirty old woman who sat at a desk. She was very deaf and asked me to +repeat what I had said. + +"Do you know a man named Barberin?" I shouted. + +Then she threw up her hands to heaven so abruptly that the cat sleeping +on her knees sprang down in terror. + +"Alas! Alas!" she cried, then she added: "Are you the boy he was looking +for?" + +"Oh, you know?" I cried excitedly. "Well, where's Barberin?" + +"Dead," she replied, laconically. + +I leaned on my harp. + +"Dead!" I cried loud enough for her to hear. I was dazed. How should I +find my parents now? + +"You're the boy they're looking for; I'm sure you are," said the old +woman again. + +"Yes, yes, I'm the boy. Where's my family? Can you tell me?" + +"I don't know any more than just what I've told you, my boy; I should +say my young gentleman." + +"What did Barberin say about my parents? Oh, do tell me," I said +imploringly. + +She threw her arms up towards heaven. + +"Ah, if that isn't a story!" + +"Well, tell it me. What is it?" + +At this moment a woman who looked like a servant came forward. The +mistress of the Hotel du Cantal turned to her: "If this isn't an affair! +This boy here, this young gentleman, is the man Barberin talked so much +about." + +"But didn't Barberin speak to you about my family?" I asked. + +"I should say so--more than a hundred times. A very rich family it is, +that you've got, my boy, my young gentleman." + +"And where do they live and what is their name?" + +"Barberin wouldn't tell us anything. He was that mysterious. He wanted +to get all the reward for himself." + +"Didn't he leave any papers?" + +"No, nothing except one that said he came from Chavanon. If we hadn't +found that, we couldn't have let his wife know he's dead." + +"Oh, you did let her know?" + +"Sure, why not?" + +I could learn nothing from the old woman. I turned slowly towards the +door. + +"Where are you going?" she asked. + +"Back to my friend." + +"Ah, you have a friend! Does he live in Paris?" + +"We got to Paris only this morning." + +"Well, if you haven't a place to lodge in, why don't you come here? You +will be well taken care of and it's an honest house. If your family get +tired of waiting to hear from Barberin they may come here and then +they'll find you. What I say is for your own interest. What age is your +friend?" + +"He is a little younger than I." + +"Just think! two boys on the streets of Paris! You could get into such a +bad place; now this is real respectable on account of the locality." + +The Hotel du Cantal was one of the dirtiest lodging houses that I had +ever seen and I had seen some pretty dirty ones! But what the old woman +said was worth considering, besides we could not be particular. I had +not found my family in their beautiful Paris mansion yet. Mattia had +been right to want to get all the money we could on our way to the city. +What should we have done if we had not our seventeen francs in our +pockets? + +"How much will you charge for a room for my friend and myself?" I asked. + +"Ten cents a day. That's not much." + +"Well, we'll come back to-night." + +"Come back early; Paris is a bad place at night for boys," she called +after me. + +Night was falling. The street lamps were lit. I had a long way to walk +to the Cathedral, where I was to meet Mattia. All my high spirits had +vanished. I was very tired and all around me seemed gloomy. In this +great Paris full of light and noise I felt so utterly alone. Would I +ever find my own people? Was I ever to see my real mother and my real +father? When I reached the Cathedral I had still twenty minutes to wait +for Mattia. I felt this night that I needed his friendship more than +ever. What a comfort it was to think that I was going to see him so gay, +so kind, such a friend! + +A little before seven I heard a quirk hark, then out of the shadows +jumped Capi! He sprang onto my knees and licked me with his soft wet +tongue. I hugged him in my arms and kissed his cold nose. It was not +long before Mattia appeared. In a few words I told him that Barberin was +dead and that there was now little hope that I could ever find my +family. Then he gave me all the sympathy of which I was in need. He +tried to console me and told me not to despair. He wished as sincerely +as I that we could find my parents. + +We returned to the Hotel du Cantal. The next morning I wrote to Mother +Barberin to express my grief for her loss and to ask her if she had had +any news from her husband before he died. By return mail she sent me +word that her husband had written to her from the hospital, where they +had taken him, and said that if he did not get better she was to write +to Greth and Galley's, Lincoln Square, London, for they were the +lawyers who were looking for me. He told her that she was not to take +any steps until she was sure that he was dead. + +"We must go to London," said Mattia, when I had finished reading the +letter that the priest had written for her. "If the lawyers are English, +that shows that your parents are English." + +"Oh, I'd rather be the same as Lise and the others. But," I added, "if +I'm English I'll be the same as Mrs. Milligan and Arthur." + +"I'd rather you were Italian," said Mattia. + +In a few minutes our baggage was ready and we were off. It took us eight +days to hike from Paris to Bologne, stopping at the principal towns en +route. When we reached Bologne we had thirty-two francs in our purse. We +took passage on a cargo boat that was going the next day to London. What +a rough journey we had! Poor Mattia declared that he would never go on +the sea again. When at last we were steaming up the Thames I begged him +to get up and see the wonderful sights, but he implored me to let him +alone. At last the engine stopped and the ropes were thrown to the +ground, and we landed in London. + +I knew very little English, but Mattia had picked up quite a great deal +from an Englishman who had worked with him at the Gassot Circus. When we +landed he at once asked a policeman to direct us to Lincoln Square. It +seemed to be a very long way. Many times we thought that we had lost +ourselves but again upon making inquiries we found that we were going +in the right direction. Finally we reached Temple Bar and a few steps +further we came to Green Square. + +My heart heat so quickly when we stood before the door of Greth and +Galley's office that I had to ask Mattia to wait a moment until I had +recovered myself. After Mattia had stated to the clerk my name and my +business, we were shown at once into the private office of the head of +the firm, Mr. Greth. Fortunately this gentleman spoke French, so I was +able to speak to him myself. He questioned me upon every detail of my +life. My answers evidently convinced him that I was the boy he was +looking for, for he told me that I had a family living in London and +that he would send me to them at once. + +"One moment, sir. Have I a father?" I asked, scarcely able to say the +word "father." + +"Yes, not only a father, but a mother, brothers and sisters," he +replied. + +"Oh...." + +He touched a bell and a clerk appeared whom he told to take charge of +us. + +"Oh, I had forgotten," said Mr. Greth, "your name is Driscoll; your +father's name is Mr. John Driscoll." + +In spite of Mr. Greth's ugly face I think I could have jumped at him and +hugged him if he had given me time, but with his hand he indicated the +door and we followed the clerk. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT + + +When we got to the street the clerk hailed a cab and told us to jump in. +The strange looking vehicle, with the coachman sitting on a box at the +back of a hood that covered us, I learned later was a hansom cab. Mattia +and I were huddled in a corner with Capi between our legs. The clerk +took up the rest of the seat. Mattia had heard him tell the coachman to +drive us to Bethnal-Green. The driver seemed none too anxious to take us +there. Mattia and I thought it was probably on account of the distance. +We both knew what "Green" meant in English, and Bethnal-Green +undoubtedly was the name of the park where my people lived. For a long +time the cab rolled through the busy streets of London. It was such a +long way that I thought perhaps their estate was situated on the +outskirts of the city. The word "green" made us think that it might be +in the country. But nothing around us announced the country. We were in +a very thickly populated quarter; the black mud splashed our cab as we +drove along; then we turned into a much poorer part of the city and +every now and again the cabman pulled up as though he did not know his +way. At last he stopped altogether and through the little window of the +hansom a discussion took place between Greth & Galley's clerk and the +bewildered cabman. From what Mattia could learn the man said that it was +no use, he could not find his way, and he asked the clerk which +direction he should take. The clerk replied that he did not know for he +had never been in that thieves' locality before. We both caught the word +"thieves." Then the clerk gave some money to the coachman and told us to +get out of the cab. The man grumbled at his fare and then turned round +and drove off. We were standing now in a muddy street before what the +English call a gin palace. Our guide looked about him in disgust, then +entered the swing-doors of the gin palace. We followed. Although we were +in a miserable part of the city I had never seen anything more +luxurious. There were gilt framed mirrors everywhere, glass chandeliers +and a magnificent counter that shone like silver. Yet the people who +filled this place were filthy and in rags. Our guide gulped down a drink +standing before the beautiful counter, then asked the man who had served +him if he could direct him to the place he wanted to find. Evidently he +got the information he required for he hurried out again through the +swing-doors, we following close on his heels. The streets through which +we walked now were even narrower and from one house across to another +were swung wash lines from which dirty rags were hanging. The women who +sat in their doorways were pale and their matted fair hair hung loose +over their shoulders. The children were almost naked and the few clothes +that they did wear were but rags. In the alley were some pigs wallowing +in the stagnant water from which a fetid odor arose. Our guide stopped. +Evidently he had lost his way. But at this moment a policeman appeared. +The clerk spoke to him and the officer told him he would show him the +way.... We followed the policeman down more narrow streets. At last we +stopped at a yard in the middle of which was a little pond. + +"This is Red Lion Court," said the officer. + +Why were we stopping there? Could it be possible that my parents lived +in this place? The policeman knocked at the door of a wooden hut and our +guide thanked him. So we had arrived. Mattia took my hand and gently +pressed it. I pressed his. We understood one another. I was as in a +dream when the door was opened and we found ourselves in a room with a +big fire burning in the grate. + +Before the fire in a large cane chair sat an old man with a white beard, +and his head covered with a black skull cap. At a table sat a man of +about forty and a woman about six years his junior. She must have been +very pretty once but now her eyes had a glassy stare and her manners +were listless. Then there were four children--two boys and two +girls--all very fair like their mother. The eldest boy was about eleven, +the youngest girl, scarcely three. I did not know what the clerk was +saying to the man, I only caught the name "Driscoll," my name, so the +lawyer had said. All eyes were turned on Mattia and me, only the baby +girl paid attention to Capi. + +"Which one is Remi?" asked the man in French. + +"I am," I said, taking a step forward. + +"Then come and kiss your father, my boy." + +When I had thought of this moment I had imagined that I should be +overwhelmed with happiness and spring into my father's arms, but I felt +nothing of the kind. I went up and kissed my father. + +"Now," he said, "there's your grandfather, your mother, your brothers +and sisters." + +I went up to my mother first and put my arms about her. She let me kiss +her but she did not return my caress; she only said two or three words +which I did not understand. + +"Shake hands with your grandfather," said my father, "and go gently; +he's paralyzed." + +I also shook hands with my brothers and my eldest sister. I wanted to +take the little one in my arms but she was too occupied with Capi and +pushed me away. As I went from one to the other I was angry with myself. +Why could I not feel any pleasure at having found my family at last. I +had a father, a mother, brothers, sisters and a grandfather. I had +longed for this moment, I had been mad with joy in thinking that I, like +other boys, would have a family that I could call my own to love me and +whom I could love.... And now I was staring at my family curiously, +finding nothing in my heart to say to them, not a word of affection. Was +I a monster? If I had found my parents in a palace instead of in a hovel +should I have had more affection for them? I felt ashamed at this +thought. Going over again to my mother I put my arms round her and +kissed her full on the lips. Evidently she did not understand what made +me do this, for instead of returning my kisses she looked at me in a +listless manner, then turning to her husband, my father, she shrugged +her shoulders and said something that I could not understand but which +made him laugh. Her indifference and my father's laugh went right to my +heart. It did not seem to me that my affection should have been received +in such a way. + +"Who is he?" asked my father, pointing to Mattia. I told him that Mattia +was my dearest friend and how much I owed him. + +"Good," said my father; "would he like to stay and see the country?" I +was about to answer for Mattia, but he spoke first. + +"That's just what I want," he exclaimed. + +My father then asked why Barberin had not come with me. I told him that +he was dead. He seemed pleased to hear this. He repeated it to my +mother, who also seemed pleased. Why were they both pleased that +Barberin was dead? + +"You must be rather surprised that we have not searched for you for +thirteen years," said my father, "and then suddenly to go off and look +up this man who found you when you were a baby." + +I told him that I was very surprised, and that I'd like to know about +it. + +"Come near the fire then and I'll tell you all about it." + +I flung the bag from my shoulders and took the chair that he offered me. +As I stretched out my legs, wet, and covered with mud, to the fire my +grandfather spat on one side, like an old cat that is annoyed. + +"Don't pay any attention to him," said my father; "the old chap doesn't +like any one to sit before his fire, but you needn't mind him, if you're +cold." + +I was surprised to hear any one speak like this of an old man. I kept my +legs under my chair, for I thought that attention should be paid to him. + +"You are my eldest son now," said my father; "you were born a year after +my marriage with your mother. When I married there was a young girl who +thought that I was going to marry her, and out of revenge she stole you +from us when you were six months old. We searched everywhere for you but +we did not go so far as Paris. We thought that you were dead until three +months ago when this woman was dying she confessed the truth. I went +over to France at once and the police in that locality where you had +been left, told me that you had been adopted by a mason named Barberin +who lived at Chavanon. I found him and he told me that he had loaned +you to a musician named Vitalis and that you were tramping through +France. I could not stay over there any longer, but I left Barberin some +money and told him to search for you, and when he had news to write to +Greth and Galley. I did not give him my address here, because we are +only in London during the winter; the rest of the year we travel through +England and Scotland. We are peddlers by trade, and I have my own +caravans. There, boy, that is how it is you have come back to us after +thirteen years. You may feel a little timid at first because you can't +understand us, but you'll soon pick up English and be able to talk to +your brothers and sisters. It won't be long before you're used to us." + +Yes, of course I should get used to them; were they not my own people? +The fine baby linen, the beautiful clothes had not spoken the truth. But +what did that matter! Affection was worth more than riches. It was not +money that I pined for, but to have affection, a family and a home. +While my father was talking to me they had set the table for supper. A +large joint of roast beef with potatoes round it was placed in the +middle of the table. + +"Are you hungry, boys?" asked my father, addressing Mattia and myself. +Mattia showed his white teeth. + +"Well, sit down to table." + +But before sitting down he pushed my grandfather's cane rocker up to the +table. Then taking his own place with his back to the fire, he +commenced to cut the roast beef and gave each one a fine big slice and +some potatoes. + +Although I had not been brought up exactly on the principle of good +breeding, I noticed that my brothers and sister's behaved very badly at +table; they ate more often with their fingers, sticking them into the +gravy and licking them without my father and mother seeming to notice +them. As to my grandfather, he gave his whole attention to what was +before him, and the one hand that he was able to use went continually +from his plate to his mouth. When he let a piece fall from his shaking +fingers my brothers and sisters laughed. + +I thought that we should spend the evening together round the fire, but +my father said that he was expecting friends, and told us to go to bed. +Beckoning to Mattia and me he took a candle and went out to a stable +that led from the room where we had been eating. In this stable were two +big caravans. He opened the door of one and we saw two small beds, one +above the other. + +"There you are, boys, there are your beds," he said. "Sleep well." + +Such was the welcome into my family. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +A DISTRESSING DISCOVERY + + +My father left the candle with us, but locked the caravan on the +outside. We got into bed as quickly as possible, without chatting, as +was our habit. Mattia did not seem to want to talk any more than I and I +was pleased that he was silent. We blew the candle out, but I found it +impossible to go to sleep. I thought over all that had passed, turning +over and over in my narrow bed. I could hear Mattia, who occupied the +berth above mine, turn over restlessly also. He could not sleep any more +than I. + +Hours passed. As it grew later a vague fear oppressed me. I felt uneasy, +but I could not understand why it was that I felt so. Of what was I +afraid? Not of sleeping in a caravan even in this vile part of London! +How many times in my vagabond life had I spent the night less protected +than I was at this moment! I knew that I was sheltered from all danger +and yet I was oppressed with a fear that amounted almost to terror. + +The hours passed one after the other; suddenly I heard a noise at the +stable door which opened onto another street. Then came several regular +knocks at intervals. Then a light penetrated our caravan. I glanced +hastily round in surprise and Capi, who slept beside my bed, woke up +with a growl. I then saw that this light came in through a little window +of the caravan against which our berths were placed, and which I had not +noticed when going to bed because there was a curtain hanging over it. +The upper part of this window touched Mattia's bed and the lower part +touched mine. Afraid that Capi might wake up all the house, I put my +hand over his mouth, then looked outside. + +My father had entered the stable and quietly opened the door on the +other side, then he closed it again in the same cautious manner after +admitting two men heavily laden with bundles which they carried on their +shoulders. Then he placed his finger on his lip, and with the other hand +which held the lantern, he pointed to the caravan in which we were +sleeping. I was about to call out that they need not mind us, but I was +afraid I should wake up Mattia, who now, I thought, was sleeping +quietly, so I kept still. My father helped the two men unload their +bundles, then he disappeared, but soon he returned with my mother. +During his absence the men had opened their baggage. There were hats, +underclothes, stockings, gloves, etc. Evidently these men were merchants +who had come to sell their goods to my parents. My father took each +object and examined it by the light of the lantern and passed it on to +my mother, who with a little pair of scissors cut off the tickets and +put them in her pocket. This appeared strange to me, as also the hour +that they had chosen for this sale. + +While my mother was examining the goods my father spoke to the men in a +whisper. If I had known English a little better I should perhaps have +caught what he said, but all I could hear was the word "police," that +was said several times and for that reason caught my ear. + +When all the goods had been carefully noted, my parents and the two men +went into the house, and again our caravan was in darkness. They had +evidently gone inside to settle the bill. I wanted to convince myself +that what I had seen was quite natural, yet despite my desire I could +not believe so. Why had not these men who had come to see my parents +entered by the other door? Why did they talk of the police in whispers +as though they were afraid of being heard outside? Why had my mother cut +off the tickets after she had bought the goods? I could not drive these +thoughts from my mind. After a time a light again filled our caravan. I +looked out this time in spite of myself. I told myself that I ought not +to look, and yet ... I looked. I told myself that it was better that I +should not know, and yet I wanted to see. + +My father and mother were alone. While my mother quickly made a bundle +of the goods, my father swept a corner of the stable. Under the dry sand +that he heaped up there was a trap door. He lifted it. By then my mother +had finished tying up the bundles and my father took them and lowered +them through the trap to a cellar below, my mother holding the lantern +to light him. Then he shut the trap door and swept the sand over it +again. Over the sand they both strewed wisps of straw as on the rest of +the stable floor. Then they went out. + +At the moment when they softly closed the door it seemed to me that +Mattia moved in his bed and that he lay back on his pillow. Had he seen? +I did not dare ask him. From head to foot I was in a cold perspiration. +I remained in this state all night long. A cock crowed at daybreak; then +only did I drop off to sleep. + +The noise of the key being turned in the door of our caravan the next +morning woke me. Thinking that it was my father who had come to tell us +that it was time to get up, I closed my eyes so as not to see him. + +"It was your brother," said Mattia; "he has unlocked the door and he's +gone now." + +We dressed. Mattia did not ask me if I had slept well, neither did I put +the question to him. Once I caught him looking at me and I turned my +eyes away. + +We had to go to the kitchen, but neither my father nor mother were +there. My grandfather was seated before the fire in his big chair as +though he had not moved since the night before, and my eldest sister, +whose name was Annie, was wiping the table. Allen, my eldest brother, +was sweeping the room. I went over to them to wish them good morning, +but they continued with their work without taking any notice of me. I +went towards my grandfather, but he would not let me get near him, and +like the evening before, he spat at my side, which stopped me short. + +"Ask them," I said to Mattia, "what time I shall see my mother and +father?" + +Mattia did as I told him, and my grandfather, upon hearing one of us +speak English, seemed to feel more amiable. + +"What does he say?" + +"He says that your father has gone out for the day and that your mother +is asleep, and that if we like we may go out." + +"Did he only say that?" I asked, finding this translation very short. + +Mattia seemed confused. + +"I don't know if I understood the rest," he said. + +"Tell me what you think you understood." + +"It seemed to me that he said that if we found some bargains in the city +we were not to miss them. He said that we lived at the expense of +fools." + +My grandfather must have guessed that Mattia was explaining what he had +said to me, for with the hand that was not paralyzed, he made a motion +as though he were slipping something into his pocket, then he winked his +eye. + +"Let us go out," I said quickly. + +For two or three hours we walked about, not daring to go far for fear we +might become lost. Bethnal-Green was even more horrible in the daytime +than it had been at night. Mattia and I hardly spoke a word. Now and +again he pressed my hand. + +When we returned to the house my mother had not left her room. Through +the open door I could see that she was leaning her head on the table. +Thinking that she was sick I ran to her to kiss her, as I was unable to +speak to her. She lifted up her head, which swayed. She looked at me but +did not see me. I smelled the odor of gin on her hot breath. I drew +back. Her head fell again on her arms resting on the table. + +"Gin," said my grandfather, grinning. + +I remained motionless. I felt turned to stone. I don't know how long I +stood so. Suddenly I turned to Mattia. He was looking at me with eyes +full of tears. I signed to him and again we left the house. For a long +time we walked about, side by side, holding each other's hands, saying +nothing, going straight before us without knowing where we were going. + +"Where do you want to go, Remi?" he asked at last, anxiously. + +"I don't know. Somewhere so we can talk. I want to speak to you, Mattia. +We can't talk in this crowd." + +We had by this time come to a much wider street at the end of which was +a public garden. We hurried to this spot and sat down on a bench. + +"You know how much I love you, Mattia boy," I began, "and you know that +it was through friendship for you that I asked you to come with me to +see my people. You won't doubt my friendship, no matter what I ask of +you?" + +"Don't be such a silly," he said, forcing a smile. + +"You want to laugh so that I won't break down," I replied. "If I can't +cry when I'm with you, when can I cry? But.... Oh ... oh, Mattia, +Mattia!" + +Throwing my arms around dear old Mattia's neck, I burst into tears. +Never had I felt so miserable. When I had been alone in this great +world, never had I felt so unhappy as I did at this moment. After my +burst of sobs I forced myself to be calm. It was not because I wanted +Mattia's pity that I had brought him to this garden, it was not for +myself; it was for him. + +"Mattia," I said resolutely, "you must go back to France." + +"Leave you? Never!" + +"I knew beforehand what you would reply and I am pleased, oh, so pleased +that you wish to be with me, but, Mattia, you _must_ go back to France +at once!" + +"Why? Tell me that." + +"Because.... Tell me, Mattia. Don't be afraid. Did you sleep last night? +Did you see?" + +"I did not sleep," he answered. + +"And you saw...?" + +"All." + +"And you understood?" + +"That those goods had not been paid for. Your father was angry with the +men because they knocked at the stable door and not at the house door. +They told him that the police were watching them." + +"You see very well, then, that you must go," I said. + +"If I must go, you must go also; it is no better for one than for the +other." + +"If you had met Garofoli in Paris and he had forced you to go back to +him, I am sure you would not have wanted me to stay with you. I am +simply doing what you would do yourself." + +He did not reply. + +"You must go back to France," I insisted; "go to Lise and tell her that +I cannot do for her father what I promised. I told her that the first +thing I did would be to pay off his debts. You must tell her how it is, +and go to Mother Barberin also. Simply say that my people are not rich +as I had thought; there is no disgrace in not having money. _But don't +tell them anything more._" + +"It is not because they are poor that you want me to go, so I shan't +go," Mattia replied obstinately. "I know what it is, after what we saw +last night; you are afraid for me." + +"Mattia, don't say that!" + +"You are afraid one day that I shall cut the tickets off goods that have +not been paid for." + +"Mattia, Mattia, don't!" + +"Well, if you are afraid for me, I am afraid for you. Let us both go." + +"It's impossible; my parents are nothing to you, but this is my father +and mother, and I must stay with them. It is my family." + +"Your family! That man who steals, your father! That drunken woman your +mother!" + +"Don't you dare say so, Mattia," I cried, springing up from my seat; +"you are speaking of my father and mother and I must respect them and +love them." + +"Yes, so you should if they are your people, but ... are they?" + +"You forget their many proofs." + +"You don't resemble your father or your mother. Their children are all +fair, while you are dark. And then how is it they could spend so much +money to find a child? Put all these things together and in my opinion +you are not a Driscoll. You might write to Mother Barberin and ask her +to tell you just what the clothes were like that you wore when you were +found. Then ask that man you call your father to describe the clothes +his baby had on when it was stolen. Until then I shan't move." + +"But suppose one day Mattia gets a bang on his poor head?" + +"That would not be so hard if he received the blow for a friend," he +said, smiling. + +We did not return to the Red Lion Court until night. My father and +mother passed no remark upon our absence. After supper my father drew +two chairs to the fireside, which brought a growl from my grandfather, +and then asked us to tell him how we had made enough money to live on +in France. I told the story. + +"Not only did we earn enough to live on, but we got enough to buy a +cow," said Mattia with assurance. In his turn he told how we came by the +cow. + +"You must be clever kids," said my father; "show us what you can do." + +I took my harp and played a piece, but not my Neapolitan song. Mattia +played a piece on his violin and a piece on his cornet. It was the +cornet solo that brought the greatest applause from the children who had +gathered round us in a circle. + +"And Capi, can he do anything?" asked my father. "He ought to be able to +earn his food." + +I was very proud of Capi's talents. I put him through all his tricks and +as usual he scored a great success. + +"Why, that dog is worth a fortune," exclaimed my father. + +I was very pleased at this praise and assured him that Capi could learn +anything that one wished to teach him. My father translated what I said +into English, and it seemed to me that he added something more which +made everybody laugh, for the old grandfather winked his eye several +times and said, "Fine dog!" + +"This is what I suggest," said my father, "that is if Mattia would like +to live with us?" + +"I want to stay with Remi," replied Mattia. + +"Well, this is what I propose," continued my father. "We're not rich +and we all work. In the summer we travel through the country and the +children go and sell the goods to those who won't take the trouble to +come to us, but in the winter we haven't much to do. Now you and Remi +can go and play music in the streets. You'll make quite a little money +as Christmas draws near, but Ned and Allen must take Capi with them and +he'll make the people laugh with his tricks; in that way the talent will +be distributed." + +"Capi won't work well with any one but me," I said quickly. I could not +bear to be parted from my dog. + +"He'll learn to work with Allen and Ned easy," said my father; "we'll +get more money this way." + +"Oh, but we'll get ever so much more with Capi," I insisted. + +"That's enough," replied my father briefly; "when I say a thing I mean +it. No arguments." + +I said nothing more. As I laid down in my bed that night Mattia +whispered in my ear: "Now to-morrow you write to Mother Barberin." Then +he jumped into bed. + +But the next morning I had to give Capi his lesson, I took him in my +arms and while I gently kissed him on his cold nose, I explained to him +what he had to do; poor doggy! how he looked at me, how he listened! I +then put his leash in Allen's hand and he followed the two boys +obediently, but with a forlorn air. + +My father took Mattia and me across London where there were beautiful +houses, splendid streets with wide pavements, and carriages that shone +like glass, drawn by magnificent horses and driven by big fat coachmen +with powdered wigs. It was late when we got back to Red Lion Court, for +the distance from the West End to Bethnal-Green is great. How pleased I +was to see Capi again. He was covered with mud, but in a good humor. I +was so pleased to see him, that after I had rubbed him well down with +dry straw, I wrapped him in my sheepskin and made him sleep in my bed. + +Things went on this way for several days. Mattia and I went one way and +Capi, Ned, and Allen another. Then one evening my father told me that we +could take Capi the next day with us, as he wanted the two boys to do +something in the house. Mattia and I were very pleased and we intended +to do our utmost to bring back a good sum of money so that he would let +us have the dog always. We had to get Capi back and we would not spare +ourselves, neither one of us. We made Capi undergo a severe washing and +combing early in the morning, then we went off. + +Unfortunately for our plan a heavy fog had been hanging over London for +two entire days. It was so dense that we could only see a few steps +before us, and those who listened to us playing behind these fog +curtains could not see Capi. It was a most annoying state of affairs for +our "takings." Little did we think how indebted we should be to the fog +a few minutes later. We were walking through one of the most popular +streets when suddenly I discovered that Capi was not with us. This was +extraordinary, for he always kept close at our heels. I waited for him +to catch up with us. I stood at the entrance of a dark alley and +whistled softly, for we could see but a short distance. I was beginning +to fear that he had been stolen from us when he came up on the run, +holding a pair of woolen stockings between his teeth. Placing his fore +paws against me he presented them to me with a bark. He seemed as proud +as when he had accomplished one of his most difficult tricks and wanted +my approval. It was all done in a few seconds. I stood dumbfounded. Then +Mattia seized the stockings with one hand and pulled me down the alley +with the other. + +"Walk quick, but don't run," he whispered. + +He told me a moment later that a man who had hurried past him on the +pavement was saying, "Where's that thief? I'll get him!" We went out by +the other end of the alley. + +"If it had not been for the fog we should have been arrested as +thieves," said Mattia. + +For a moment I stood almost choking. They had made a thief of my good +honest Capi! + +"Hold him tight," I said, "and come back to the house." + +We walked quickly. + +The father and mother were seated at the table folding up material. I +threw the pair of stockings down. Allen and Ned laughed. + +"Here's a pair of stockings," I said; "you've made a thief of my dog. I +thought you took him out to amuse people." + +I was trembling so I could scarcely speak, and yet I never felt more +determined. + +"And if it was not for amusement," demanded my father, "what would you +do, I'd like to know?" + +"I'd tie a cord round Capi's neck, and although I love him dearly, I'd +drown him. I don't want Capi to become a thief any more than I want to +be one myself, and if I thought that I ever should become a thief, I'd +drown myself at once with my dog." + +My father looked me full in the face. I thought he was going to strike +me. His eyes gleamed. I did not flinch. + +"Oh, very well, then," said he, recovering himself; "so that it shall +not happen again, you may take Capi out with you in the future." + +I showed my fist to the two boys. I could not speak to them, but they +saw by my manner that if they dared have anything more to do with my +dog, they would have me to reckon with. I was willing to fight them both +to protect Capi. + +From that day every one in my family openly showed their dislike for me. +My grandfather continued to spit angrily when I approached him. The boys +and my eldest sister played every trick they possibly could upon me. My +father and mother ignored me, only demanding of me my money every +evening. Out of the whole family, for whom I had felt so much affection +when I had landed in England, there was only baby Kate who would let me +fondle her, and she turned from me coldly if I had not candy or an +orange in my pocket for her. + +Although I would not listen to what Mattia had said at first, gradually, +little by little, I began to wonder if I did really belong to this +family. I had done nothing for them to be so unkind to me. Mattia, +seeing me so greatly worried, would say as though to himself: "I am just +wondering what kind of clothes Mother Barberin will tell us you wore...." + +At last the letter came. The priest had written it for her. It read: + + + "My little Remi: I was surprised and sorry to learn the contents of + your letter. From what Barberin told me and also from the clothes + you had on when you were found, I thought that you belonged to a + very rich family. I can easily tell you what you wore, for I have + kept everything. You were not wound up in wrappings like a French + baby; you wore long robes and underskirts like little English + babies. You had on a white flannel robe and over that a very fine + linen robe, then a big white cashmere pelisse lined with white silk + and trimmed with beautiful white embroidery, and you had a lovely + lace bonnet, and then white woolen socks with little silk rosettes. + None of these things were marked, but the little flannel jacket you + had next to your skin and the flannel robe had both been marked, + but the marks had been carefully cut out. There, Remi, boy, that is + all I can tell you. Don't worry, dear child, that you can't give us + all the fine presents that you promised. Your cow that you bought + with your savings is worth all the presents in the world to me. I + am pleased to tell you that she's in good health and gives the same + fine quantity of milk, so I am very comfortably off now, and I + never look at her without thinking of you and your little friend + Mattia. Let me have news of you sometimes, dear boy, you are so + tender and affectionate, and I hope, now you have found your + family, they will all love you as you deserve to be loved. I kiss + you lovingly. + "Your foster mother, + "WIDOW BARBERIN." + + +Dear Mother Barberin! she imagined that everybody must love me because +she did! + +"She's a fine woman," said Mattia; "very fine, she thought of me! Now +let's see what Mr. Driscoll has to say." + +"He might have forgotten the things." + +"Does one forget the clothes that their child wears when it was +kidnaped? Why, it's only through its clothes that they can find it." + +"Wait until we hear what he says before we think anything." + +It was not an easy thing for me to ask my father how I was dressed on +the day that I was stolen. If I had put the question casually without +any underthought, it would have been simple enough. As it was I was +timid. Then one day when the cold sleet had driven me home earlier than +usual, I took my courage in both hands, and broached the subject that +was causing me so much anxiety. At my question my father looked me full +in the face. But I looked back at him far more boldly than I imagined +that I could at this moment. Then he smiled. There was something hard +and cruel in the smile but still it was a smile. + +"On the day that you were stolen from us," he said slowly, "you wore a +flannel robe, a linen robe, a lace bonnet, white woolen shoes, and a +white embroidered cashmere pelisse. Two of your garments Were marked +F.D., Francis Driscoll, your real name, but this mark was cut out by the +woman who stole you, for she hoped that in this way you would never be +found. I'll show you your baptismal certificates which, of course, I +still have." + +He searched in a drawer and soon brought forth a big paper which he +handed to me. + +"If you don't mind," I said with a last effort, "Mattia will translate +it for me." + +"Certainly." + +Mattia translated it as well as he could. It appeared that I was born on +Thursday, August the 2nd, and that I was the son of John Driscoll and +Margaret Grange, his wife. + +What further proofs could I ask? + +"That's all very fine," said Mattia that night, when we were in our +caravan, "but how comes it that peddlers were rich enough to give their +children lace bonnets and embroidered pelisses? Peddlers are not so rich +as that!" + +"It is because they were peddlers that they could get those things +cheaper." + +Mattia whistled, but he shook his head, then again he whispered: "You're +not that Driscoll's baby, but you're the baby that Driscoll stole!" + +I was about to reply but he had already climbed up into his bed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +A MYSTERIOUS STRANGER + + +If I had been in Mattia's place, I should perhaps have had as much +imagination as he, but I felt in my position that it was wrong for me to +have such thoughts. It had been proved beyond a doubt that Mr. Driscoll +was my father. I could not look at the matter from the same point of +view as Mattia. He might doubt ... but I must not. When he tried to make +me believe as he did, I told him to be silent. But he was pig-headed and +I was not always able to get the better of his obstinacy. + +"Why are you dark and all the rest of the family fair?" he would ask +repeatedly. + +"How was it that poor people could dress their baby in fine laces and +embroidery?" was another often repeated question. And I could only reply +by putting a question myself. + +"Why did they search for me if I was not their child? Why had they given +money to Barberin and to Greth and Galley?" + +Mattia could find no answer to my question and yet he would not be +convinced. + +"I think we should both go back to France," he urged. + +"That's impossible." + +"Because it's your duty to keep with your family, eh? But is it your +family?" + +These discussions only had one result, they made me more unhappy than I +had ever been. How terrible it is to doubt. Yet, in spite of my wish not +to doubt, I doubted. Who would have thought when I was crying so sadly +because I thought I had no family that I should be in such despair now +that I had one. How could I know the truth? In the meantime I had to +sing and dance and laugh and make grimaces when my heart was full. + +One Sunday my father told me to stay in the house because he wanted me. +He sent Mattia off alone. All the others had gone out; my grandfather +alone was upstairs. I had been with my father for about an hour when +there was a knock at the door. A gentleman, who was unlike any of the +men who usually called on my father, came in. He was about fifty years +old and dressed in the height of fashion. He had white pointed teeth +like a dog and when he smiled he drew his lips back over them as though +he was going to bite. He spoke to my father in English, turning +continually to look at me. Then he began to talk French; he spoke this +language with scarcely an accent. + +"This is the young boy that you spoke to me about?" he said. "He appears +very well." + +"Answer the gentleman," said my father to me. + +"Yes, I am quite well," I replied, surprised. + +"You have never been ill?" + +"I had pneumonia once." + +"Ah, when was that?" + +"Three years ago. I slept out in the cold all night. My master, who was +with me, was frozen to death, and I got pneumonia." + +"Haven't you felt any effects of this illness since?" + +"No." + +"No fatigue, no perspiration at night?" + +"No. When I'm tired it's because I have walked a lot, but I don't get +ill." + +He came over to me and felt my arms, then put his head on my heart, then +at my back and on my chest, telling me to take deep breaths. He also +told me to cough. That done he looked at me for a long time. It was then +that I thought he wanted to bite me, his teeth gleamed in such a +terrible smile. A few moments later he left the house with my father. + +What did it mean? Did he want to take me in his employ? I should have to +leave Mattia and Capi. No, I wouldn't be a servant to anybody, much less +this man whom I disliked already. + +My father returned and told me I could go out if I wished. I went into +the caravan. What was my surprise to find Mattia there. He put his +finger to his lips. + +"Go and open the stable door," he whispered, "I'll go out softly behind +you. They mustn't know that I was here." + +I was mystified but I did as he asked. + +"Do you know who that man was who was with your father?" he asked +excitedly when we were in the street. "It was Mr. James Milligan, your +friend's uncle." + +I stood staring at him in the middle of the pavement. He took me by the +arm and dragged me on. + +"I was not going out all alone," he continued, "so I went in there to +sleep, but I didn't sleep. Your father and a gentleman came into the +stable and I heard all they said; at first I didn't try to listen but +afterward I did. + +"'Solid as a rock,' said the gentleman; 'nine out of ten would have +died, but he pulled through with pneumonia.' + +"'How is your nephew?' asked your father. + +"'Better. Three months ago the doctors again gave him up, but his mother +saved him once more. Oh, she's a marvelous mother, is Mrs. Milligan.' + +"You can imagine when I heard this name if I did not glue my ears to the +window. + +"'Then if your nephew is better,' continued your father, 'all you've +done is useless.' + +"'For the moment, perhaps,' replied the other, 'but I don't say that +Arthur is going to live; it would be a miracle if he did, and I am not +afraid of miracles. The day he dies the only heir to that estate will be +myself.' + +"'Don't worry; I'll see to that,' said Driscoll. + +"'Yes, I count on you,' replied Mr. Milligan." + +My first thought was to question my father, but it was not wise to let +them know that they had been overheard. As Mr. Milligan had business +with my father he would probably come to the house again, and the next +time, Mattia, whom he did not know, could follow him. + +A few days later Mattia met a friend of his, Bob, the Englishman, whom +he had known at the Gassot Circus. I could see by the way he greeted +Mattia that he was very fond of him. He at once took a liking to Capi +and myself. From that day we had a strong friend, who, by his experience +and advice, was of great help to us in time of trouble. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +IN PRISON + + +Spring came slowly, but at last the day arrived for the family to leave +London. The caravans had been repainted and were loaded with +merchandise. There were materials, hats, shawls, handkerchiefs, +sweaters, underwear, ear-rings, razors, soap, powders, cream, everything +that one could imagine. + +The caravans were full. The horses bought. Where, and how? I did not +know but we saw them come and everything was then ready for the +departure. We did not know if we were to stay with the old grandfather +or go with the family, but my father, finding that we made good money +playing, told us the night before that we should go on the road with him +and play our music. + +"Let us go back to France," urged Mattia; "here's a good chance now." + +"Why not travel through England?" + +"Because I tell you something's going to happen if we stay here, and +besides we might find Mrs. Milligan and Arthur in France. If he has been +ill she will be sure to take him on their barge, now the summer is +coming." + +I told him that I must stay. + +The same day we started. I saw in the afternoon how they sold the +things that cost so little. We arrived at a large village and the +caravans were drawn up on the public square. One of the sides was +lowered and the goods displayed temptingly for the purchasers to +inspect. + +"Look at the price! Look at the price!" cried my father. "You couldn't +find anything like this elsewhere for the price! I don't sell 'em; I'm +giving 'em away. Look at this!" + +"He must have stolen them," I heard the people say when they saw the +prices. If they had glanced at my shamed looks, they would have known +that they were right in their suppositions. + +If they did not notice me, Mattia did. "How much longer can you bear +this?" he asked. + +I was silent. + +"Let us go back to France," he urged again. "I feel that something is +going to happen, and going to happen soon. Don't you think sooner or +later the police will get on to Driscoll, seeing how cheap he's selling +the things? Then what'll happen?" + +"Oh, Mattia...." + +"If you will keep your eyes shut I must keep mine open. We shall both be +arrested and we haven't done anything, but how can we prove that? Aren't +we eating the food that is paid for by the money that he gets for these +things?" + +I had never thought of that; it struck me now like a blow in the face. + +"But we earn our food," I stammered, trying to defend ourselves. + +"That's true, but we're living with thieves," replied Mattia, speaking +more frankly than he had ever done before, "and then if we're sent to +prison, we can't look for your family. And I'm anxious to see Mrs. +Milligan to warn her against that James Milligan. You don't know what he +might not do to Arthur. Let us go while we can." + +"Let me have a few more days to think it over, Mattia," I said. + +"Hurry up, then. Jack the Giant Killer smelled flesh--I smell danger." + +Circumstances did for me what I was afraid to do. Several weeks had +passed since we left London. My father had set up his caravans in a town +where the races were about to be held. As Mattia and I had nothing to do +with selling the goods, we went to see the race-course, which was at +some distance from the town. Outside the English race-courses there is +usually a fair going on. Mountebanks of all descriptions, musicians, and +stall holders gather there two or three days in advance. + +We were passing by a camp fire over which a kettle was hanging when we +recognized our friend Bob, who had been with Mattia in the circus. He +was delighted to see us again. He had come to the races with two friends +and was going to give an exhibition of strength. He had engaged some +musicians but they had failed him at the last moment and he was afraid +that the performance the next day would be a failure. He had to have +musicians to attract a crowd. Would we help him out? The profits would +be divided between the five of us that made up the company. There would +even be something for Capi, for he would like to have Capi perform his +tricks in the intervals. We agreed and promised to be there the next day +at the time he mentioned. + +When I told of this arrangement to my father he said that he wanted Capi +and that we could not have him. I wondered if they were going to make my +dog do some dirty trick. From my look my father guessed my thoughts. + +"Oh, it's all right," he said; "Capi's a good watch dog; he must stand +by the caravans. In a crowd like we shall have we might easily be +robbed. You two go alone and play with your friend Bob, and if you are +not finished until late, which will be quite likely, you can join us at +the Old Oak Tavern. We shall go on our way again to-morrow." + +We had spent the night before at the Old Oak Tavern, which was a mile +out on a lonely road. The place was kept by a couple whose appearance +did not inspire one with confidence. It was quite easy to find this +place. It was on a straight road. The only annoying thing was that it +was a long walk for us after a tiring day. + +But when my father said a thing I had to obey. I promised to be at the +Tavern. The next day, after tying Capi to the caravan, where he was to +be on guard, I hurried off to the race-course with Mattia. + +We began to play as soon as we arrived and kept it up until night. My +fingers ached as though they had been pricked with a thousand pins and +poor Mattia had blown his cornet so long that he could scarcely breathe. +It was past midnight. Just as they were doing their last turn a big bar +of iron which they were using in their feats fell on Mattia's foot. I +thought that his foot was broken. Fortunately it was only severely +bruised. No bones were broken, but still he could not walk. + +It was decided that he should stay there that night with Bob and that I +should go on alone to the Old Oak Tavern, for I had to know where the +Driscoll family was going the next day. All was dark when I reached the +tavern. I looked round for the caravans. They were nowhere to be seen. +All I could see, beside one or two miserable wagons, was a big cage from +which, as I drew near, came the cry of a wild beast. The beautiful gaudy +colored caravans belonging to the Driscoll family were gone. + +I knocked at the tavern door. The landlord opened it and turned the +light from his lantern full on my face. He recognised me, but instead of +letting me go in he told me to hurry after my parents, who had gone to +Lewes, and said that I'd better not lose any time joining them. Then he +shut the door in my face. + +Since I had been in England I had learned to speak English fairly well. +I understood clearly what he said, but I had not the slightest idea +where Lewes was situated, and besides I could not go, even if I found +out the direction, and leave Mattia behind. I began my weary tramp back +to the race-course; an hour later I was sleeping beside Mattia in Bob's +wagon. + +The next morning Bob told me how to get to Lewes and I was ready to +start. I was watching him boil the water for breakfast when I looked up +from the fire and saw Capi being led towards us by a policeman. What did +it mean? The moment Capi recognized me he gave a tug at his leash and +escaping from the officer bounded toward me and jumped into my arms. + +"Is that your dog?" asked the policeman. + +"Yes." + +"Then come with me, you're under arrest." + +He seized me by the collar. + +"What do you mean by arresting him?" cried Bob, jumping up from the +fire. + +"Are you his brother?" + +"No, his friend." + +"Well, a man and a boy robbed St. George's Church last night. They got +up a ladder and went through the window. This dog was there to give the +alarm. They were surprised in the act and in their hurry to get out by +the window, the dog was left in the church. I knew that with the dog I'd +be sure to find the thieves; here's one, now where's his father?" + +I could not utter a word. Mattia, who had heard the talk, came out of +the caravan and limped over to me. Bob was telling the policeman that I +could not be guilty because I had stayed with him until one o'clock, +then I went to the Old Oak Tavern and spoke to the landlord there, and +came back here at once. + +"It was a quarter after one that the church was entered," said the +officer, "and this boy left here at one o'clock so he could have met the +other and got to the church." + +"It takes more than a quarter of an hour to go from here to the town," +said Bob. + +"On the run, no," replied the policeman, "and what proves that he left +here at one o'clock?" + +"I can prove it; I swear it," cried Bob. + +The policeman shrugged his shoulders. "This boy can explain to the +magistrate," he said. + +As I was being led away, Mattia threw his arms about my neck, as though +it was because he wanted to embrace me, but Mattia had another object. + +"Keep up your courage," he whispered, "we won't forsake you." + +"Take care of Capi," I said in French, but the officer understood. + +"Oh, no," he said; "I'll keep that dog. He helped me to find you; he may +help me to find the other." + +Handcuffed to the policeman I had to pass under the gaze of a crowd of +people, but they did not jeer me like the peasants in France had done at +my first arrest; these people, almost all of them, were antagonistic to +the police; they were gypsies, tramps, in fact, the Bohemian vagabond. + +There were no onions strewn over this prison where I was now locked up. +This was a real jail with iron bars at the windows, the sight of which +put all thought of escape from my mind. In the cell there was only a +bench and a hammock. I dropped onto the bench and remained for a long +time with my head buried in my hands. Mattia and Bob, even with the help +of other friends, could never get me away from here. I got up and went +over to the window; the bars were strong and close together. The walls +were three feet thick. The ground beneath was paved with large stones. +The door was covered with a plate of sheet iron.... No, I could not +escape. + +I began to wonder if it would be possible for me to prove my innocence, +despite Capi's presence in the church. Mattia and Bob could help me by +proving an alibi. If they could prove this I was saved in spite of the +mute testimony that my poor dog had carried against me. I asked the +jailer when he brought in some food if it would be long before I should +appear before the magistrate. I did not know then that in England you +are taken into court the day after arrest. The jailer, who seemed a +kindly sort of man, told me that it would certainly be the next day. + +I had heard tales of prisoners finding messages from their friends in +the food that was brought in to them. I could not touch my food, but I +at once began to crumble my bread. I found nothing inside. There were +some potatoes also; I mashed them to a pulp, but I found not the +tiniest note. I did not sleep that night. + +The next morning the jailer came into my cell carrying a jug of water +and a basin. He told me to wash myself if I wished to, for I was to +appear before the judge, and a good appearance never went against one. +When the jailer returned he told me to follow him. We went down several +passages, then came to a small door which he opened. + +"Pass in," he said. + +The room I entered was very close. I heard a confused murmur of voices. +Although my temples were throbbing and I could scarcely stand, I was +able to take in my surroundings. The room was of fair size with large +windows and high ceiling. The judge was seated on a raised platform. +Beneath him in front sat three other court officials. Near where I stood +was a gentleman wearing a robe and wig. I was surprised to find that +this was my lawyer. How was it I had an attorney? Where did he come +from? + +Amongst the witnesses, I saw Bob and his two friends, the landlord of +the Old Oak Tavern, and some men whom I did not know. Then on another +stand opposite, amongst several other persons, I saw the policeman who +had arrested me. The public prosecutor in a few words stated the crime. +A robbery had been committed in St. George's Church. The thieves, a man +and a child, had climbed up a ladder and broken a window to get in. They +had with them a dog to give the alarm. At a quarter after one, a late +pedestrian had seen a light in the church and had at once aroused the +sexton. Several men ran to the church; the dog barked and the thieves +escaped through the window, leaving the dog behind them. The dog's +intelligence was remarkable. The next morning the animal had led the +policeman to the race-course where he had recognized his master, who was +none other than the accused now standing in the prisoner's dock. As to +the second thief, they were on his trail, and they hoped to arrest him +shortly. + +There was little to be said for me; my friends tried to prove an alibi, +but the prosecutor said that I had ample time to meet my accomplice at +the church and then run to the Old Oak Tavern after. I was asked then +how I could account for my dog being in the church at quarter after one. +I replied that I could not say, for the dog had not been with me all +day. But I declared that I was innocent. My attorney tried to prove that +my dog had wandered into the church during the day and had been locked +in when the sexton closed the door. He did his best for me, but the +defense was weak. Then the judge said that I should be taken to the +county jail to wait for the Grand Jury to decide if I should, or should +not, be held for the assizes. + +The assizes! + +I fell back on my bench. Oh, why had I not listened to Mattia. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +ESCAPE + + +I had not been acquitted because the judge was expecting the arrest of +the man who had entered the church with the child. They would then know +if I was this man's accomplice. They were on the trail, the prosecutor +had said, so I should have the shame and sorrow of appearing in the +prisoner's dock at the Assizes beside _him_. + +That evening, just before dusk, I heard the clear notes of a cornet. +Mattia was there! Dear old Mattia! he wanted to tell me that he was near +and thinking of me. He was evidently in the street on the other side of +the wall opposite my window. I heard footsteps and the murmur of a +crowd. Mattia and Bob were probably giving a performance. + +Suddenly I heard a clear voice call out in French, "To-morrow at +daybreak!" Then at once Mattia played his loudest on the cornet. + +It did not need any degree of intelligence to understand that Mattia had +not addressed these French words to an English public. I was not sure +what they meant, but evidently I had to be on the alert at daybreak the +next morning. As soon as it was dark I got into my hammock, but it was +some time before I could go to sleep, although I was very tired. At +last I dropped off to sleep. When I awoke it was night. The stars shone +in the dark sky and silence reigned everywhere. A clock struck three. I +counted the hours and the quarter hours. Leaning against the wall I kept +my eyes fixed on the window. I watched the stars go out one by one. In +the distance I could hear the cocks crowing. It was daybreak. + +I opened the window very softly. What did I expect? There were still the +iron bars and the high wall opposite. I could not get out, and yet +foolish though the thought was, I expected my freedom. The morning air +chilled me but I stayed by my window, looking out without knowing at +what, listening without knowing to what. A big white cloud came up in +the sky. It was daybreak. My heart throbbed wildly. Then I seemed to +hear a scratching on the wall, but I had heard no sound of footsteps. I +listened. The scratching continued. I saw a head appear above the wall. +In the dim light I recognized Bob. + +He saw me with my face pressed against the bars. + +"Silence!" he said softly. + +He made a sign for me to move away from the window. Wondering, I obeyed. +He put a peashooter to his mouth and blew. A tiny ball came through the +air and fell at my feet. Bob's head disappeared. + +I pounced on the ball. It was tissue paper made into a tiny ball like a +pea. The light was too dim for me to see what was written on it; I had +to wait till day. I closed my window cautiously and lay down again in +my hammock with the tiny bit of paper in my hand. How slowly the light +came! At last I was able to read what was written on the paper. I read: + + + "To-morrow you will be taken in the train to the county jail. A + policeman will be in the compartment with you. Keep near the same + door by which you enter. At the end of forty minutes (count them + carefully), the train will slacken speed as it nears a junction; + then open the door and jump out. Climb the small hill on the left. + We'll be there. Keep your courage up; above all, jump well forward + and fall on your feet." + + +Saved! I should not appear before the Assizes! Good Mattia, dear old +Bob! How good of Bob to help Mattia, for Mattia, poor little fellow, +could not have done this alone. + +I re-read the note. Forty minutes after the train starts.... Hill to the +left.... It was a risky thing to do to jump from a train, but even if I +killed myself in doing so, I would better do it. Better die than be +condemned as a thief. + +Would they think of Capi? + +After I had again read my note, I chewed it into a pulp. + +The next day, in the afternoon, a policeman came into my cell and told +me to follow him. He was a man over fifty and I thought with +satisfaction that he did not appear to be very nimble. + +Things turned out just as Bob had said. The train rolled off. I took my +place near the door where I had entered. The policeman sat opposite me; +we were alone in the compartment. + +"Do you speak English?" asked the policeman. + +"I understand if you don't talk too rapidly," I replied. + +"Well, then, I want to give you a little advice, my boy," he said; +"don't try and fool the law. Just tell me how it all happened, and I'll +give you five shillings. It'll be easier for you if you have a little +money in jail." + +I was about to say that I had nothing to confess, but I felt that might +annoy the man, so I said nothing. + +"Just think it over," he continued, "and when you're in jail don't go +and tell the first comer, but send for me. It is better to have one who +is interested in you, and I'm very willing to help you." + +I nodded my head. + +"Ask for Dolphin; you'll remember my name?" + +"Yes, sir." + +I was leaning against the door. The window was down and the air blew in. +The policeman found that there was too much air so he moved into the +middle of the seat. My left hand stole softly outside and turned the +handle; with my right hand I held the door. + +The minutes passed; the engine whistled and slackened its speed. The +moment had come. I pushed open the door quickly and sprang out as far +as I could. Fortunately, my hands, which I held out before me, touched +the grass, yet the shock was so great that I rolled on the ground +unconscious. When I came to my senses I thought that I was still in the +train for I felt myself being carried along. Looking round I saw that I +was lying at the bottom of a cart. Strange! My cheeks were wet. A soft +warm tongue was licking me. I turned slightly. An ugly yellow dog was +leaning over me. Mattia was kneeling beside me. + +"You're saved," he said, pushing aside the dog. + +"Where am I?" + +"You are in a cart. Bob's driving." + +"How goes it?" cried Bob from his seat. "Can you move your arms and +legs?" + +I stretched out and did what he asked. + +"Good," said Mattia; "nothing broken." + +"What happened?" + +"You jumped from the train as we told you, but the shock stunned you, +and you rolled into a ditch. When you didn't come, Bob left the cart, +crept down the hill, and carried you back in his arms. We thought you +were dead. Oh, Remi, I was afraid." + +I stroked his hand. "And the policeman?" I asked. + +"The train went on; it didn't stop." + +My eyes again fell on the ugly yellow dog that was looking at me with +eyes that resembled Capi's. But Capi was white.... + +"What dog is that?" I asked. + +Before Mattia could reply the ugly little animal had jumped on me, +licking me furiously and whining. + +"It's Capi; we dyed him!" cried Mattia, laughing. + +"Dyed him? Why?" + +"So that he wouldn't be recognized. Now Bob wants to make you more +comfortable." + +While Bob and Mattia were making me comfortable I asked them where we +were going. + +"To Little Hampton," said Mattia, "where Bob's brother has a boat that +goes over to France to fetch butter and eggs from Normandy. We owe +everything to Bob. What could a poor little wretch like me have done +alone? It was Bob's idea that you jump from the train." + +"And Capi? Who's idea was it to get him?" + +"Mine. But it was Bob's to paint him yellow so that he wouldn't be +recognized after we stole him from Policeman Jerry. The judge called +Jerry 'intelligent'; he wasn't so very intelligent to let us get Capi +away. True, Capi smelled me and almost got off alone. Bob knows the +tricks of dog thieves." + +"And your foot?" + +"Better, or almost better. I haven't had time to think of it." + +Night was falling. We had still a long distance to go. + +"Are you afraid?" asked Mattia, as I lay there in silence. + +"No, not afraid," I answered, "for I don't think that I shall be +caught. But it seems to me that in running away I admit my guilt. That +worries me." + +"Better anything, Bob and I thought, than that you should appear at the +Assizes. Even if you got off it's a bad thing to have gone through." + +Convinced that after the train stopped the policeman would lose no time +looking for me, we went ahead as quickly as possible. The villages +through which we drove were very quiet; lights were seen in only a few +of the windows. Mattia and I got under a cover. For some time a cold +wind had been blowing and when we passed our tongues over our lips we +tasted salt. We were nearing the sea. Soon we saw a light flashing every +now and again. It was a lighthouse. Suddenly Bob stopped his horse, and +jumping down from the cart, told us to wait there. He was going to see +his brother to ask him if it would be safe for him to take us on his +boat. + +Bob seemed to be away a very long time. We did not speak. We could hear +the waves breaking on the shore at a short distance. Mattia was +trembling and I also. + +"It is cold," he whispered. + +Was it the cold that made us shake? When a cow or a sheep in the field +at the side touched against the fence we trembled still more. There were +footsteps on the road. Bob was returning. My fate had been decided. A +rough-looking sailor wearing a sou'wester and an oilskin hat was with +Bob. + +"This is my brother," said Bob; "he'll take you on his boat. So we'll +have to part now; no one need know that I brought you here." + +I wanted to thank Bob but he cut me short. I grasped his hand. + +"Don't speak of it," he said lightly, "you two boys helped me out the +other night. One good turn deserves another. And I'm pleased to have +been able to help a friend of Mattia's." + +We followed Bob's brother down some winding quiet streets till we came +to the docks. He pointed to a boat, without saying a word. In a few +moments we were on board. He told us to go down below into a little +cabin. + +"I start in two hours' time," he said; "stay there and don't make a +sound." + +But we were not trembling now. We sat in the dark side by side. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +HUNTING FOR THE SWAN + + +For some time after Bob's brother left we heard only the noise of the +wind and the sea dashing against the keel, then footsteps were heard on +the deck above and the grinding of pulleys. A sail was hoisted, then +suddenly the boat leaned to one side and began to rock. In a few moments +it was pitching heavily on the rough sea. + +"Poor Mattia," I said, taking his hand. + +"I don't care, we're saved," he said; "what if I am seasick?" + +The next day I passed my time between the cabin and deck. Mattia wanted +to be left alone. When at last the skipper pointed out Harfleur I +hurried down to the cabin to tell him the good news. As it was late in +the afternoon when we arrived at Harfleur, Bob's brother told us that we +could sleep on the boat that night if we wished. + +"When you want to go back to England," he said the next morning, as we +wished him good-by, and thanked him for what he had done for us, "just +remember that the _Eclipse_ sails from here every Tuesday." + +It was a kind invitation, but Mattia and I each of us had our reason for +not wishing to cross the sea again ... yet awhile. + +Fortunately we had our profits from Bob's performance. In all we had +twenty-seven francs and fifty centimes. Mattia wanted to give Bob the +twenty-seven francs in payment for the expenses he had been put to for +my flight, but he would not accept a penny. + +"Well, which way shall we go?" I asked when we landed in France. + +"By the canal," replied Mattia promptly, "because I have an idea. I +believe the _Swan_ is on the canal this summer, now that Arthur's been +so ill, and I think we ought to find it," he added. + +"But what about Lise and the others?" I asked. + +"We'll see them while we're looking for Mrs. Milligan. As we go up the +canal, we can stop and see Lise." + +With a map that we bought, we searched for the nearest river: it was the +Seine. + +"We'll go up the Seine and ask all the fishermen along the banks if +they've seen the _Swan_. It isn't like any other boat from what you say, +and if they've seen it they'll remember." + +Before beginning the long journey that was probably ahead of us I bought +some soft soap to clean Capi. To me, Capi yellow--was not Capi. We +washed him thoroughly, each one taking it in turns until he was tired +out. But Bob's dye was an excellent quality and when we had finished he +was still yellow, but a shade paler. It would require many shampoos +before we could get him back to his original color. Fortunately Normandy +is a country of brooks and each day we gave him a bath. + +We reached the top of a hill one morning and Mattia spied the Seine away +ahead of us, winding in a large curve. From then on, we began to +question the people. Had they seen the _Swan_, a beautiful barge with a +veranda? No one had seen it. It must have passed in the night. We went +on to Rouen, where again we commenced our questions, but with no better +result. We would not be discouraged but went forward questioning every +one. We had to stop to get money for our food as we went along, so it +took us five weeks to reach the suburbs of Paris. + +Fortunately, upon arriving at Charenton, we soon knew which direction we +had to take. When we put the important question, we received for the +first time the answer for which we had longed. A boat which resembled +the _Swan_, a large pleasure boat, had passed that way; turning to the +left, it had continued up the Seine. + +We were by the docks. Mattia was so overjoyed that he commenced to dance +amongst the fishermen. Stopping suddenly he took his violin and +frantically played a triumphal march. While he played I questioned the +man who had seen the barge. Without a doubt it was the _Swan_. It had +passed through Charenton about two months ago. + +Two months! What a lead it had! But what did that matter! We had our +legs and they had the legs of two good horses and we should join them +some day. The question of time did not count. The great thing, the +wonderful thing was that the _Swan_ was found! + +"Who was right?" cried Mattia. + +If I had dared I would have admitted to Mattia that I had very great +hopes, but I felt that I could not analyze my thoughts, not even to +myself. We had no need to stop now and question the people. The _Swan_ +was ahead of us. We had only to follow the Seine. We went on our way, +getting nearer to where Lise lived. I wondered if she had seen the barge +as it passed through the locks by her home. At night we never complained +of weariness and we were always ready the next morning to set out at an +early hour. + +"Wake me up," said Mattia, who was fond of sleeping. And when I woke him +he was never long in jumping to his feet. + +To economize we ate hard-boiled eggs, which we bought from the grocers, +and bread. Yet Mattia was very fond of good things. + +"I hope Mrs. Milligan has that cook still who made those tarts," he +said; "apricot tarts must be fine!" + +"Haven't you ever tasted them?" + +"I've tasted apple puffs, but I've never tasted apricot tarts. I've seen +them. What are those little white things they stick all over the fruit?" + +"Almonds." + +"Oh...." And Mattia opened his mouth as though he were swallowing a +whole tart. + +At each lock we had news of the _Swan;_ every one had seen the +beautiful barge and they spoke of the kind English lady and the little +boy lying on a sofa under the veranda. + +We drew nearer to Lise's home, two more days, then one, then only a few +hours. We came in sight of the house. We were not walking now, we were +running. Capi, who seemed to know where we were going, started ahead at +a gallop. He was going to let Lise know that we were coming. She would +come to meet us. But when we got to the house there was a woman standing +at the door whom we did not know. + +"Where's Madame Suriot?" we inquired. + +For a moment she stared at us as though we were asking a foolish +question. + +"She doesn't live here now," she said at last; "she's in Egypt." + +"In Egypt!" + +Mattia and I looked at one another in amazement. Egypt! We did not know +just where Egypt was situated, but we thought, vaguely, it was far away, +very far, somewhere beyond the seas. + +"And Lise? Do you know Lise?" + +"The little dumb girl? Yes, I know her! She went off with an English +lady on a barge." + +Lise on the _Swan!_ Were we dreaming? Mattia and I stared at one +another. + +"Are you Remi?" then asked the woman. + +"Yes." + +"Well, Suriot was drowned...." + +"Drowned!" + +"Yes, he fell into the lock and got caught below on a nail. And his +poor wife didn't know what to do, and then a lady that she lived with +before she married was going to Egypt, and she told her she would take +her as nurse to look after the children. She didn't know what to do with +little Lise and while she was wondering an English lady and her little +sick son came along the canal in a barge. They talked. And the English +lady, who was looking for some one to play with her son, for he was +tired of being always alone, said she would take Lise along and she +would educate the little girl. The lady said she would have doctors who +would cure her and she would be able to speak some day. Before they +went, Lise wanted her aunt to explain to me what I was to say to you if +you came to see her. That's all." + +I was so amazed that I could find no words. But Mattia never lost his +head like me. + +"Where did the English lady go?" he asked. + +"To Switzerland. Lise was to have written to me so that I could give you +her address, but I haven't received the letter yet." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +FINDING A REAL MOTHER + + +"Forward! March! Children!" cried Mattia after we had thanked the woman. +"It is not only Arthur and Mrs. Milligan now that we are going after, +but Lise. What luck! Who knows what's in store for us!" + +We went on our way in search of the _Swan_, only stopping just to sleep +and to earn a few sous. + +"From Switzerland one goes to Italy," said Mattia softly. "If, while +running after Mrs. Milligan, we get to Lucca, how happy my little +Christina will be." + +Poor dear Mattia! He was helping me to seek those I loved and I had done +nothing to help him see his little sister. + +At Lyons we gained on the _Swan_. It was now only six weeks ahead of us. +I doubted if we could catch up with it before it reached Switzerland. +And then I did not know that the river Rhone was not navigable up to the +Lake of Geneva. We had thought that Mrs. Milligan would go right to +Switzerland on her boat. What was my surprise when arriving at the next +town to see the _Swan_ in the distance. We began to run along the banks +of the river. What was the matter? Everything was closed up on the +barge. There were no flowers on the veranda. What had happened to +Arthur? We stopped, looking at each other both with the same sorrowful +thoughts. + +A man who had charge of the boat told us that the English lady had gone +to Switzerland with a sick boy and a little dumb girl. They had gone in +a carriage with a maid; the other servants had followed with the +baggage. We breathed again. + +"Where is the lady?" asked Mattia. + +"She has taken a villa at Vevy, but I cannot say where; she is going to +spend the summer there." + +We started for Vevy. Now they were not traveling away from us. They had +stopped and we should be sure to find them at Vevy if we searched. We +arrived there with three sous in our pockets and the soles off our +boots. But Vevy is not a little village; it is a town, and as for asking +for Mrs. Milligan, or even an English lady with a sick son and a dumb +girl, we knew that that would be absurd. There are so many English in +Vevy; the place is almost like an English pleasure resort. The best way, +we thought, was to go to all the houses where they might be likely to +live. That would not be difficult; we had only to play our music in +every street. We tried everywhere, but yet we could see no signs of Mrs. +Milligan. + +We went from the lake to the mountains, from the mountains to the lake, +looking to the right and to the left, questioning from time to time +people who, from their expression, we thought would be disposed to +listen and reply. Some one sent us to a chalet built way up on the +mountain; another assured us that she lived down by the lake. They were +indeed English ladies who lived up in the chalet on the mountain and the +villa down by the lake; but not our Mrs. Milligan. + +One afternoon we were playing in the middle of the road. The house +before us had a large iron gate; the house behind stood way back in a +garden. In the front of it there was a stone wall. I was singing my +loudest. I sung the first verse of my Neapolitan song and was about to +commence the second when we heard a weak strange voice singing. Who +could it be? What a strange voice! + +"Arthur?" inquired Mattia. + +"No, no, it is not Arthur. I have never heard that voice before." + +But Capi commenced to whine and gave every sign of intense joy while +jumping against the wall. + +"Who is singing?" I cried, unable to contain myself. + +"Remi!" called a weak voice. + +My name instead of an answer! Mattia and I looked at one another, +thunderstruck. As we stood looking stupidly into each other's faces, I +saw a handkerchief being waved at the end of the wall. We ran to the +spot. It was not until we got to the hedge which surrounded the other +side of the garden that we saw the one who was waving. + +Lise! At last we had found her and not far away were Mrs. Milligan and +Arthur! + +But who had sung? That was the question that Mattia and I asked as soon +as we found words. + +"I," answered Lise. + +Lise was singing! Lise was talking! + +The doctors had said that one day Lise would recover her speech, and +very probably, under the shock of a violent emotion, but I did not think +that it could be possible. And yet the miracle had happened, and it was +upon knowing that I had come to her and hearing me sing the Neapolitan +song I used to sing to her, that she had felt this intense emotion, and +was restored to her voice. I was so overcome at this thought that I had +to stretch out my hand to steady myself. + +"Where is Mrs. Milligan?" I asked, "and Arthur?" + +Lise moved her lips, but she could only utter inarticulate sounds, then +impatiently she used the language of her hands, for her tongue was still +clumsy in forming words. She pointed down the garden and we saw Arthur +lying in an invalid's chair. On one side of him was his mother, and on +the other ... Mr. James Milligan. In fear, in fact almost terror, I +stooped down behind the hedge. Lise must have wondered why I did so. +Then I made a sign to her to go. + +"Go, Lise, or you'll betray me," I said. "Come to-morrow here at nine +o'clock and be alone, then I can talk to you." + +She hesitated for a moment, then went up the garden. + +"We ought not to wait till to-morrow to speak to Mrs. Milligan," said +Mattia. "In the meantime that uncle might kill Arthur. He has never seen +me and I'm going to see Mrs. Milligan at once and tell her." + +There was some reason in what Mattia proposed, so I let him go off, +telling him that I would wait for him at a short distance under a big +chestnut tree. I waited a long time for Mattia. More than a dozen times +I wondered if I had not made a mistake in letting him go. At last I saw +him coming back, accompanied by Mrs. Milligan. I ran to her, and, +seizing the hand that she held out to me, I bent over it. But she put +her arms round me and, stooping down, kissed me tenderly on the +forehead. + +"Poor, dear child," she murmured. + +With her beautiful white fingers she pushed the hair back from my +forehead and looked at me for a long time. + +"Yes, yes," she whispered softly. + +I was too happy to say a word. + +"Mattia and I have had a long talk," she said, "but I want you to tell +me yourself how you came to enter the Driscoll family." + +I told her what she asked and she only interrupted me to tell me to be +exact on certain points. Never had I been listened to with such +attention. Her eyes did not leave mine. + +When I had finished she was silent for some time, still looking at me. +At last she said: "This is a very serious matter and we must act +prudently. But from this moment you must consider yourself as the +friend," she hesitated a little, "as the brother of Arthur. In two +hours' time go to the Hotel des Alpes; for the time being you will stay +there. I will send some one to the hotel to meet you. I am obliged to +leave you now." + +Again she kissed me and after having shaken hands with Mattia she walked +away quickly. + +"What did you tell Mrs. Milligan?" I demanded of Mattia. + +"All that I have said to you and a lot more things," he replied. "Ah, +she is a kind lady, a beautiful lady!" + +"Did you see Arthur?" + +"Only from a distance, but near enough to see that he looked a nice sort +of boy." + +I continued to question Mattia, but he answered me vaguely. + +Although we were in our ragged street suits, we were received at the +hotel by a servant in a black suit and a white tie. He took us to our +apartment. How beautiful we thought our bedroom. There were two white +beds side by side. The windows opened onto a balcony overlooking the +lake. The servant asked us what we would like for dinner, which he would +serve us on the balcony if we wished. + +"Have you any tarts?" asked Mattia. + +"Yes, rhubarb tarts, strawberry tarts, and gooseberry tarts." + +"Good. Then you can serve these tarts." + +"All three?" + +"Certainly." + +"And what entrée? What meat? Vegetables?" + +At each offer Mattia opened his eyes, but he would not allow himself to +be disconcerted. + +"Anything, just what you like," he replied coolly. + +The butler left the room gravely. + +The next day Mrs. Milligan came to see us; she was accompanied by a +tailor and a shirt maker who took our measures for some suits and +shirts. Mrs. Milligan told us that Lise was still trying to talk and +that the doctor had declared that she would soon be cured, then after +having spent an hour with us she left us, again kissing me tenderly and +shaking hands warmly with Mattia. + +For four days she came, each time she was more affectionate and loving +to me, yet still with a certain restraint. The fifth day the maid, whom +I had known on the _Swan_, came in her place. She told us that Mrs. +Milligan was expecting us and that a carriage was at the hotel doors to +take us to her. Mattia took his seat in the brougham as though he had +been used to riding in a carriage all his life. Capi also jumped in +without any embarrassment and sat down on the velvet cushions. + +The drive was short, it seemed to me very short, for I was like one in a +dream, my head filled with foolish ideas, or at least what I thought +might be foolish. We were shown into a drawing-room. Mrs. Milligan, +Arthur, and Lise were there. Arthur held out his arms. I rushed over to +him, then I kissed Lise. Mrs. Milligan kissed me. + +"At last," she said, "the day has come when you can take the place that +belongs to you." + +I looked to her to ask her to explain. She went over to a door and +opened it. Then came the grand surprise! Mother Barberin entered. In her +arms she carried some baby's clothes, a white cashmere pelisse, a lace +bonnet, some woolen shoes. She had only time to put these things on the +table before I was hugging her. While I fondled her, Mrs. Milligan gave +an order to the servant. I heard only the name of Milligan, but I looked +up quickly. I know that I turned pale. + +"You have nothing to fear," said Mrs. Milligan gently; "come over here +and place your hand in mine." + +James Milligan came into the room, smiling and showing his white pointed +teeth. When he saw me, the smile turned to a horrible grimace. Mrs. +Milligan did not give him time to speak. + +"I asked for you to come here," she said, her voice shaking, "to +introduce you to my eldest son, whom I have at last found"; she pressed +my hand. "But you have met him already; you saw him at the home of the +man who stole him, when you went there to inquire after his health." + +"What does this mean?" demanded Milligan. + +"That the man who is serving a sentence for robbing a church has made a +full confession. He has stated how he stole my baby and took it to Paris +and left it there. Here are the clothes that my child wore. It was this +good woman who brought up my son. Do you wish to read this confession. +Do you wish to examine these clothes?" + +James Milligan looked at us as though he would liked to have strangled +us, then he turned on his heels. At the threshold he turned round and +said: "We'll see what the courts will think of this boy's story." + +My mother, I may call her so now, replied quietly: "_You_ may take the +matter to the courts; I have not done so because you are my husband's +brother." + +The door closed. Then, for the first time in my life, I kissed my mother +as she kissed me. + +"Will you tell your mother that I kept the secret?" said Mattia, coming +up to us. + +"You knew all, then?" + +"I told Mattia not to speak of all this to you," said my mother, "for +though I did believe that you were my son, I had to have certain proofs, +and get Madame Barberin here with the clothes. How unhappy we should +have been if, after all, we had made a mistake. We have these proofs and +we shall never be parted again. You will live with your mother and +brother?" Then, pointing to Mattia and Lise, "and," she added, "with +those whom you loved when you were poor." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +THE DREAM COME TRUE + + +Years have passed. I now live in the home of my ancestors, Milligan +Park. The miserable little wanderer who slept so often in a stable was +heir to an old historical castle. It is a beautiful old place about +twenty miles west of the spot where I jumped from the train to escape +from the police. I live here with my mother, my brother and my wife. + +We are going to baptize our first child, little Mattia. To-night all +those who were my friends in my poorer days will meet under my roof to +celebrate the event and I am going to offer to each one as a little +token a copy of my "Memoirs," which for the last six months I have been +writing and which to-day I have received from the bookbinder. + +This reunion of all our friends is a surprise for my wife; she will see +her father, her sister, her brothers, her aunt. Only my mother and +brother are in the secret. One will be missing from this feast. Alas! +poor master! poor Vitalis! I could not do much for you in life, but at +my request, my mother has had erected a marble tomb and placed your +bust, the bust of Carlo Balzini, upon the tomb. A copy of this bust is +before me now as I write, and often while penning my "Memoirs," I have +looked up and my eyes have caught yours. I have not forgotten you; I +shall never forget you, dear master, dear Vitalis. + +Here comes my mother leaning on my brother's arm, for it is now the son +who supports the mother, for Arthur has grown big and strong. A few +steps behind my mother comes an old woman dressed like a French peasant +and carrying in her arms a little baby robed in a white pelisse. It is +dear Mother Barberin, the little baby is my son Mattia. + +Arthur brings me a copy of the _Times_ and points to a correspondence +from Vienna which states that Mattia, the great musician, has completed +his series of concerts, and that, in spite of his tremendous success in +Vienna, he is returning to England to keep an engagement which cannot be +broken. I did not need to read the article for, although all the world +now calls Mattia the Chopin of the violin, I have watched him develop +and grow. When we were all three working together under the direction of +our tutors, Mattia made little progress in Latin and Greek, but quickly +outstripped his professors in music. Espinassous, the barber-musician of +Mendes, had been right. + +A footman brings me a telegram: + + + "Sea very rough! Alas! Have been very ill, but managed to stop on + my way at Paris for Christina. Shall be with you at 4 o'clock. Send + carriage to meet us. MATTIA." + + +Mentioning Christina, I glanced at Arthur, but he turned away his eyes. +I knew that Arthur loved Mattia's little sister, and I knew that in +time, although not just yet, my mother would become reconciled to the +match. Birth was not everything. She had not opposed my marriage, and +later, when she saw that it was for Arthur's happiness, she would not +oppose his. + +Lise comes down the gallery, my beautiful wife. She passes her arm round +my mother's neck. + +"Mother dear," she said, "there is some secret afoot and I believe that +you are in the plot. I know if it is a surprise and you are in it, it is +something for our happiness, but I am none the less curious." + +"Come, Lise, you shall have the surprise now," I said, as I heard the +sound of carriage wheels on the gravel outside. + +One by one our guests arrive and Lise and I stand in the hall to welcome +them. There is Mr. Acquin, Aunt Catherine and Etiennette, and a bronze +young man who has just returned from a botanical expedition and is now +the famous botanist--Benjamin Acquin. Then comes a young man and an old +man. This journey is doubly interesting to them for when they leave us +they are going to Wales to visit the mines. The young one is to make +observations which he will carry back to his own country to strengthen +the high position which he now holds in the Truyère mine, and the other +to add to the fine collection of minerals which the town of Varses +has honored him by accepting. It is the old professor and Alexix. +Lise and I greet our guests, the landau dashes up from the opposite +direction with Arthur, Christina and Mattia. Following in its wake is a +dog cart driven by a smart looking man, beside whom is seated a rugged +sailor. The gentleman holding the reins is Bob, now very prosperous, and +the man by his side is his brother, who helped me to escape from +England. + +[Illustration: "LET US NOW PLAY FOR THOSE WE LOVE."] + +When the baptismal feast is over, Mattia draws me aside to the window. + +"We have often playful to indifferent people," he said; "let us now, on +this memorable occasion, play for those we love?" + +"To you there is no pleasure without music, eh, Mattia, old boy," I +said, laughing; "do you remember how you scared our cow?" + +Mattia grinned. + +From a beautiful box, lined with velvet, he drew out an old violin which +would not have brought two francs if he had wished to sell it. I took +from its coverings a harp, the wood of which had been washed so often by +the rain, that it was now restored to its original color. + +"Will you sing your Neapolitan song?" asked Mattia. + +"Yes, for it was that which gave Lise back her speech," I said, smiling +at my wife who stood beside me. + +Our guests drew round us in a circle. A dog suddenly came forward. Good +old Capi, he is very old and deaf but he still has good eyesight. From +the cushion which he occupies he has recognized the harp and up he +comes, limping, for "the Performance." In his jaws he holds a saucer; he +wants to make the rounds of the "distinguished audience." He tries to +walk on his two hind paws, but strength fails him, so he sits down +gravely and with his paw on his heart he bows to the society. + +Our song ended, Capi gets up as best he can and "makes the round." Each +one drops something into the saucer and Capi delightedly brings it to +me. It is the best collection he has ever made. There are only gold and +silver coins--170 francs. + +I kiss him on his cold nose as in other days, and the thought of the +miseries of my childhood gives me an idea. I tell my guests that this +sum shall be the first subscription to found a Home for little street +musicians. My mother and I will donate the rest. + +"Dear Madam," said Mattia, bending over my mother's hand, "let me have a +little share in this good work. The proceeds of my first concert in +London will be added to Capi's collection." + +And Capi barked approval. + + +THE END + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 25102 *** |