diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/69064-h/69064-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69064-h/69064-h.htm | 5465 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 5465 deletions
diff --git a/old/69064-h/69064-h.htm b/old/69064-h/69064-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 73fb08f..0000000 --- a/old/69064-h/69064-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5465 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Little Acrobat, by Janie Prichard Duggan—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body {margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - font-size: 110%;} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both;} - -p {margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; - text-indent: 1.5em;} - -.no-indent {text-indent: 0;} - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p2b {margin-bottom: 2em;} - -hr {width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both;} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } -hr.tiny {width: 15%; margin-left: 42.5%; margin-right: 42.5%;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -table {margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto;} - -.tdl {text-align: left;} -.tdr {text-align: right;} -.tdc {text-align: center;} -.tdbr {text-align: right; - vertical-align: bottom;} -.tdlh {text-align: left; padding-left: 1.5em; text-indent: -1.5em;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; -} /* page numbers */ - -.blockquot {margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%;} - -.adblock {margin-left: 20%; - margin-right: 20%; - padding-left: 3em; - padding-right: 3em; - padding-top: 1.5em; - padding-bottom: 1.5em;} - -.x-ebookmaker .adblock {margin-left: 2%; margin-right: 2%;} - -.box {border: solid 1px; - margin-top: 1.5em; - margin-bottom: 1.5em; - margin-left: 3em; - margin-right: 3em; - text-align: center;} - -.box2 {border: solid 1px; - margin-top: 1.5em; - margin-bottom: 1.5em; - margin-left: 3em; - margin-right: 3em; - text-align: center;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.smaller {font-size: 85%;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold; - text-align: center;} - -.ph1 {text-align: center; - margin-top: .51em; - margin-bottom: .49em; - font-size: xx-large; - font-weight: bold; - text-indent: 0;} - -.ph2 {text-align: center; - margin-top: .51em; - margin-bottom: .49em; - font-size: x-large; - font-weight: bold; - text-indent: 0;} - -.ph3 {text-align: center; - margin-top: .51em; - margin-bottom: .49em; - font-size: large; - font-weight: bold; - text-indent: 0;} - -.dropcap {float:left; - font-size: 40px; - line-height: 22.5px; - padding-top: 2px; - padding-bottom: .25px;} - -/* Images */ - -img {max-width: 100%; - height: auto;} - -.figcenter {margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%;} - -/* Footnotes */ - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor {vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: none;} - -.footblock {color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - margin-left: 20%; - margin-right: 20%; - page-break-before: always;} - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} -/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry in browsers */ -.poetry {display: inline-block;} -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} -/* large inline blocks don't split well on paged devices */ -@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; - margin-left: 20%; - margin-right: 20%; - page-break-before: always;} - -.x-ebookmaker-drop .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} - -.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} - -.x-ebookmaker .figcenter {width:100%} - -.x-ebookmaker .transnote {margin-left: 2%; margin-right: 2%;} - -.x-ebookmaker .footblock {margin-left: 2%; margin-right: 2%;} - -.x-ebookmaker .adblock {margin-left: 2%; margin-right: 2%;} - -.x-ebookmaker .box2 {margin-left: 2%; margin-right: 2%;} - -.x-ebookmaker .pagenum {display: none; visibility: hidden;} - -/* Poetry indents */ -.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The little acrobat: a story of Italy, by Janie Prichard Duggan</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The little acrobat: a story of Italy</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Janie Prichard Duggan</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Nana French Bickford</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 30, 2022 [eBook #69064]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: D A Alexander and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by the Library of Congress)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE ACROBAT: A STORY OF ITALY ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter hide" style="width: 32%"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p class="ph1">THE LITTLE ACROBAT</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> -<a id="i_frontispiece"><img src="images/i_frontispiece.jpg" width="350" alt="The pale apparition of Natale startled them all." -title="" /></a></div></div> - -<p class="caption">The pale apparition of Natale startled them all. <i>Frontispiece.</i><br /> -<span class="center"><i>See page <a href="#Page_167">167.</a></i></span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<h1>THE<br /> -<br /> -LITTLE ACROBAT</h1> - -<p class="ph3"> -A STORY OF ITALY</p> - -<p class="ph2 nobreak"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br /> -JANIE PRICHARD DUGGAN</p> - -<p class="center no-indent p2b"><span class="smaller"><i>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</i></span><br /> -NANA FRENCH BICKFORD</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70px;"> -<img src="images/i_title.jpg" width="100" alt="Publishers Logo" -title="" /></div> - -<p class="p2"> </p> - -<p class="ph3"><span class="smaller">BOSTON</span><br /> -LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY<br /> -<span class="smaller">1919</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center no-indent"><i>Copyright, 1919</i>, -<br /> -<span class="smcap">By Little, Brown, and Company</span>. -<br /> -<i>All rights reserved</i><br /> - -Published, September, 1919<br /> -<br /> -Norwood Press<br /> -Set up and electrotyped by J. S. Cushing Co., Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.<br /> -Presswork by S. J. Parkhill & Co., Boston, Mass., U.S.A.</p></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center no-indent">DEDICATED<br /> -TO MEMORIES OF<br /> -TWO LITTLE “ANGELICALS” OF ROME<br /> -SPOTTISWOODE AND SUSIE<br /> -BY<br /> -“CUDDIE”</p></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2 nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</p> -</div> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="3" summary="CONTENTS"> -<tr><td class="tdbr smaller">CHAPTER</td> -<td> </td> -<td class="tdc smaller">PAGE</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdbr">I</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Along the White Road</span></td> -<td class="tdbr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdbr">II</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Nonna</span></td> -<td class="tdbr"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdbr">III</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In the Ring</span></td> -<td class="tdbr"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdbr">IV</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Festival of San Lorenzo</span></td> -<td class="tdbr"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdbr">V</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Gift for the Circus</span></td> -<td class="tdbr"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdbr">VI</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Separation</span></td> -<td class="tdbr"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdbr">VII</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Caged Bird of the Fields</span></td> -<td class="tdbr"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdbr">VIII</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Cage Door Opened</span></td> -<td class="tdbr"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdbr">IX</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Flight of the Bird</span></td> -<td class="tdbr"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdbr">X</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">On the Wing</span></td> -<td class="tdbr"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdbr">XI</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fluttering a Little Farther</span></td> -<td class="tdbr"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdbr">XII</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">At Last</span></td> -<td class="tdbr"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2 nobreak">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</p></div> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="3" summary="CONTENTS"> -<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdlh">The pale apparition of Natale startled<br /> -them all</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_frontispiece"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdlh">Mrs. Bishop looked down upon the tent<br /> -from the garden terrace</td> -<td class="tdr"><span class="allsmcap">PAGE</span> <a href="#illo1">45</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdlh">The priest led Natale to the other end of<br /> -the house</td> -<td class="tdr"><span class="allsmcap">“ </span> <a href="#illo2">94</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdlh">“<i>Capitomboli</i>, such as the boy who was<br /> -here just now made in the circus at<br /> -Cutigliano”</td> -<td class="tdr"><span class="allsmcap">“ </span> <a href="#illo3">142</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph1 nobreak">THE LITTLE ACROBAT</p></div> - -<p class="ph2"><i>A STORY OF ITALY</i></p> -<p class="ph2 nobreak"></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br /> -<span class="smaller">ALONG THE WHITE ROAD</span></h2> - -<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap"><span class="dropcap">T</span>he</span> July sunshine lay hot and -golden over the fields of wheat on -the Italian hillsides, and the deep -shade of the chestnut woods along the -road was more inviting than the white glare -beyond. The sun stood directly overhead, -and along the middle of that white, dusty -road there was not an inch of shadow.</p> - -<p>A small brown house on wheels crept -slowly along this sunny way, drawn by a -queer, ill-matched team of three—a plump -white horse with long, silky mane and tail, -a large spotted horse with fierce eyes and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span>nostrils, and a lean, little brown pony, with -strangely twisted neck.</p> - -<p>Up and up, always a little higher up, the -horses toiled with the house-wagon, as the -road rose into the mountains. From the -interior of the wagon came the sound of -voices, mingled now and then with a complaining -note, or an exclamation of pain. -The travelers were very tired, and poor -Pietro’s fever was rising with every turn of -the wheels.</p> - -<p>Several men and a sturdy girl of fifteen -walked beside the horses in the powdery white -dust. Behind the big wagon lagged a boy -of eight or nine years. This was Natale,<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -a slight little fellow, with dusty lean legs -and dragging feet. His light brown hair -curled damply about his sun-browned forehead, -and he wore an old, misshapen hat -set far back on his pretty head. His loosely -fitting clothes were dingy with dust but -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span>Natale did not mind, for, presently, they -would come to Cutigliano, the old, old -town on the mountain side, and there they -would camp out on the soft, green grass. -And Natale knew from much experience -that nothing could clean the dust from -travel-stained clothes so well as rolling down -the grassy slopes of the chestnut woods, -with Niero and Bianco as companions.</p> - -<p>Of course the sun was hot; was it not -always hot at noon of a summer’s day in -the Apennines? But Niero did not complain, -and why should Natale?</p> - -<p>Bianco had tired of trotting along at -Natale’s side, and at the last stopping-place, -when Pietro had had a drink of -water from the wayside fountain, the tired -little black dog had begged to be allowed -to ride, and had been willingly taken inside -the wagon.</p> - -<p>Natale never asked to ride in the wagon, -unless he were very tired and sleepy. They -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span>were rather crowded in there even without -him, for Pietro took up a great deal of room, -now that he had to lie down all the time. -Besides, the other children, good travelers -as they usually were, sometimes grew -quarrelsome and made the mothers and -the grandmother angry. Natale did not -like quarreling and loud voices, so he always -preferred his resting times to be given -him on the back of one of the horses. But -now Tesoro and Il Duca were tired also, and -they were so near Cutigliano, it did not -matter if Natale did lag behind a little, -always with big Niero for company.</p> - -<p>Niero was a large, lean, white dog with a -closely sheared body. About his neck, -however, he wore a fluffy collar of long -white hair, and bracelets of the same -adorned his four paws, while his long tail -ended in a tuft, having very much the appearance -of a dishmop. Why this white -dog should have been named Niero, meaning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> -black, the clown who had also named the -little black dog Bianco, white, could have -best explained.</p> - -<p>By and by, long after the gray church -tower had come in sight and the red-tiled -roofs of the town showed bunched together -against the green of the wooded hillside, the -travelers reached the arched stone bridge -across the river at the foot of the mountain. -Here the wagon made a halt before beginning -the last steep climb to the town. -Above, they could see the stone wall which -was the boundary of the road winding by -loops, one above the other, up the mountain -side, but the town had now disappeared -from view, so sheer was the rise of the -chestnut woods.</p> - -<p>This halt gave Natale time to come up -with the wagon, and then he sat down with -a tired sigh on a heap of mending-stones by -the roadside, in front of the wagon door. -His legs ached with weariness, but this was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span>no time to think of riding, as even the -women and all the children but Pietro must -alight now, to relieve the horses in the last -pull up hill. Natale watched them descend -from the wagon one by one, by the steps one -of the musicians placed at the door.</p> - -<p>First came Nonna, the grandmother of -Rudolfo and Tito and the five other children -of the blond acrobat, Antonio Bisbini. She -was not Natale’s Nonna, of course, yet -everybody called her Nonna, and why -should not he, who had no grandmother of -his own?</p> - -<p>Nonna carried Tito in her arms and led -Rudolfo by the hand. Then came Tito’s -mother, the three-months’-old infant, Gigi, -in her arms, followed by Olga, who held -little Maria by the hand. Next, Natale’s -own mamá stepped down, glad to stretch her -active limbs by walking, after nursing -Pietro for so many tedious hours. Then -the rest of Bisbini’s children scrambled -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span>out, aided by the music-man’s helping -hands.</p> - -<p>On they went again then, the clown, who -was Natale’s stepfather, walking at the -horses’ heads, and cracking his long whip, -and chirruping to them while the other men -strode behind the wagon, pushing upon it -with all their might at the steep places in -the road.</p> - -<p>The women and children, meanwhile, left -the road to climb the short cuts upward, -leading directly from terrace to terrace,—mere -paths paved with rough stones, here -and there loosened and displaced by rushing -rain-torrents of the past. The little ones -bore the heat and the roughness of the way -without murmuring, being allowed to -straggle along as they pleased, now stopping -to gather a red poppy from the edge -of the wheat, now dropping on the ground -to search for a briar afflicting some tired -foot. Natale was not the last in the procession<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> -now, for he was anxious to get -to the top and see what the tall wheat -and the green slopes were hiding from -his eyes.</p> - -<p>At last they reached the wide turn in the -road where the wagon must finally stop, at -the edge of the town field. The wagon -also came toiling upward, and now the good -horses might rest. So these were unhitched -from the wagon, and while one or two of the -men led them up the steep, paved street into -the village to find food and shelter for them, -the others attended to the house-wagon, -drawn close against the low stone wall -inclosing the field, placing great stones -against the wheels to steady it in its place. -Now was Natale’s hour and the dogs’, and -they understood this as well as he! Over -the low wall they scampered and down on -the soft, hot grass they lay, rolling over and -over down the gentle slope of the field until, -suddenly, Natale found himself landing -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span>directly upon his feet, with a whirring in his -head, and the sound of distressed barking -in his ears.</p> - -<p>The dogs had had the wit to stop on the -very edge of a sharp descent which Natale -had not noticed, and now they stood on the -bank, half-a-dozen feet above him, their -forefeet firmly planted on the brink of the -grassy precipice, and their tufty tails high -in the air, begging with all their might to -know whether their dear little comrade were -hurt. Natale was not hurt, but the jar -of the descent gave him a queer feeling -under the waistband of his trousers, and -he sat down directly where he stood, -on the lower terrace, turning his back -upon the dogs.</p> - -<p>A fringe of bushes threw a narrow band -of shade about him from above, and he -made up his mind to stay there till something -should be made ready for dinner. -He hoped he would not be wanted to fetch -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span>anything from the village,—he was always -fetching something for somebody. He had -heard his mother calling to her husband to -bring a little meal for the polenta,<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> when he -should finish stabling the horses, and he -knew there was wine left in the flask in the -wagon.</p> - -<p>From where Natale sat he could look -directly down upon the roof of a house far -down by the stone bridge and could faintly -hear the rushing of the little river Lima over -the rocks. Presently he eased himself out -on the grass at full length, with his arms -crossed beneath his head. As he dropped -off to sleep, he was thinking how well it was -that there could be no performance in the -tent that evening. He was sure that -Arduina would laugh more than ever at -his stiff little feats on the circus carpet if -he should have to turn somersaults after -the long tramp.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span></p> - -<p>Then Natale slept, with the great green -mountains closing around him, and Bianco -the black dog and Niero the white keeping -watch above his head from where they had -stretched themselves on the edge of the -terrace in the sun.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br /> -<span class="smaller">NONNA</span></h2></div> - -<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap"><span class="dropcap">N</span>atale</span>, as will have been discovered -by this time, was an -Italian circus boy, a cheerful, -happy little soul, who loved his “profession”, -and whose ambition reached to the -giddy height of some day rivaling even -Antonio Bisbini in his wonderful trapeze -performances. He loved everything connected -with the life he led,—the long slow -journeyings through his beautiful Italy, the -camping out at night along the quiet roads, -the open-air loungings in some village -through the sunny days, until the evening -should come and the oil lamps be lighted in -the tent, and the people come crowding -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span>in to see Arduina dance the tight rope, and -little Olga do her wonderful turns and -twists on the carpet, and to applaud Antonio -and the clown and the horses, and—yes, -and himself too, little Natale, stiff as -his short thin legs always were and hopeless, -as Arduina declared, in his bows and scrapes.</p> - -<p>Besides the three musicians, there were -two families in the strolling company. -Giovanni Marzuchetti was the clown, also -the stepfather of Paulo, Arduina, Pietro, -Natale and little Maria, and husband of -Elvira, the black-haired mother of the five -children. This man had no children of his -own but was kind in his rough, clownish way -to Natale and the rest.</p> - -<p>It is not difficult to understand why -Giovanni should have married Elvira and -her family, when it was known that the -woman brought to her husband a small -fortune in the shape of her own wonderful -skill as a rider of horses, and the little ones -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span>as possible acrobats of the future. They -had been married for two years now, and -if Giovanni had counted largely upon his -ready-made family for speedy reënforcements -in the “ring”, he must have become -a little discouraged even by this time. It -is true that Paulo and Arduina were well -trained in the art of circus acting; but poor -Pietro, the middle-sized one, who was -twelve years old, was always ailing and -feeble. Sleeping out of doors in the marshy -regions had developed in his system a -chronic fever which could not be thrown -off, even with the aid of Nonna’s assiduous -doctoring, and lately the weakness had -settled in one leg and foot, threatening -permanent lameness.</p> - -<p>Natale, who came next, was agile enough -when running about on his slim brown legs, -but his funny stiff-legged somersaults and -awkward antics in the ring were matters of -jesting among the whole troop. Poor little -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span>Natale, who did so wish to be like Antonio -Bisbini!</p> - -<p>Lastly there was Maria, who was a mere -baby and as yet only just learning to stand -upright on her stepfather’s head.</p> - -<p>But Antonio Bisbini, the father of the -other family, was the star of the little troop -of strolling players. Tall and lean and -muscular, he stood six feet two in his sandals. -His blond hair and skin and strong, -clear-cut features gave him the look of some -stern young Viking from the cold forests of -the North, yet this youthful-looking, ruddy -athlete was already the father of seven -young children.</p> - -<p>No one in the company, not even the -clown, could hold a candle to Antonio in -looks or in graceful skill. Natale was sure -that the noblest and most beautiful figure -in all Italy was that of Antonio Bisbini as -he would step forth from behind the tent-curtain, -ready to thrill the spectators about -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span>the ring. The flesh-colored tights clothing -his limbs showed to perfection their symmetry -and grace, relieved by the brilliantly -spangled hip garment of black velvet and -fringe, while the proud glance of his gray -eyes and the light tread of his feet never -failed to impress the beholder.</p> - -<p>Antonio’s oldest, little red-haired Olga, -tumbled and danced with all a healthy -child’s love of activity and applause, and -Oh! how Natale envied her the perfect -“wheels” she turned, one after the other -with dizzying swiftness across the dusty -strip of carpet in the ring. But the rest of -Antonio’s seven were as yet too small to be -useful as tumblers or dancers, and Nonna’s -hands were always full, while their mother -did her daring dances in the air.</p> - -<p>The three musicians, then, and Nonna -completed this strolling band of twenty, -with the two horses, the dogs and the -twisted-necked pony. Poor Caffero had -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span>grievously hurt his pretty neck one day -when very young, while tied in his stall and -leaping to reach his food from a manger -set cruelly high. Since then he had trotted -painfully through three years of going up -and down the earth, with his brown head and -long neck twisted far around to one side -without the power of righting them. Caffero -would have made a pretty part of the -show had not this accident befallen him. -As it was, he was good for little but helping -to guide the house-wagon along the weary -roads. Yet every one loved Caffero.</p> - -<p>On the day of the arrival at Cutigliano -the two horses Tesoro and Il Duca were left -in their stalls in the village stables during -the whole afternoon, while Caffero was -brought down the steep village street and -allowed to graze in the public field. Nonna -herself had gone up for him with Tito in her -arms, after the midday meal of polenta, or -thick mush of yellow meal, had been eaten. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span>As the trio passed through the narrow -street of the village, many heads turned to -wonder at the strangers—the gray-haired -woman, the bright-eyed child in her arms, -and poor Caffero, who always seemed -pulling against the leading rope and trying -to twist his head after something left -behind.</p> - -<p>It was while Nonna, a little later, was -tying Caffero’s rope to a tree in the field that -she spied the two dogs asleep in the sun near -the edge of the terrace. As Tito recognized -them at the same time, and called them in -his baby voice, the grandmother added her -summons, and was rather astonished at -their failure to obey. They bounded to -their feet, it is true, but instead of scampering -to meet her, they stood still, quivering -with nervous excitement and waving their -tails in much perplexity. Then as Tito -began to fret and belabor the air with his -fists, Nonna started swiftly toward the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span>dogs with something threatening in her -gait.</p> - -<p>But where were they, those lazy brutes, -which a moment before had defied her and -then had promptly disappeared? A few -more hasty steps brought Nonna near -enough to the edge of the descent to see -both Niero and Bianco crouching over -Natale on the lower terrace. The boy had -been awakened by the sudden onset of his -faithful friends, and lay looking lazily upward -as Nonna and Tito peered over at -him.</p> - -<p>“Natalino!” the old woman exclaimed, -and, at the word, Natale scrambled to his -feet.</p> - -<p>“I am ready! Where am I to go?” he -asked hurriedly, preparing to creep up the -bank. But Nonna only laughed and -reached down a helping hand to the child, -as he clutched at the long grass for support.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span></p> - -<p>“Come and eat your polenta,” she said, -when Natale stood at her side, the dogs -panting close by. “I suppose they have -saved you a bite. Why did you run away? -Though, as for that, you were not missed -in all this hurly-burly of arriving. Now, -Niero, stand on your hind legs and beg. -See, Tito is fretting for you to do it—”</p> - -<p>“But we haven’t a bone or a crust of -bread for him, Nonna,” Natale pleaded. -“See how sadly his eyes look at you. -Giovanni always gives him a bone.”</p> - -<p>“There! take to your legs then, poor -thing!” Nonna cried in a friendly way -to the hungry dog. “Perhaps to-morrow -there will be a bone. Who knows?”</p> - -<p>Natale ran off toward the wagon, followed -by the patient animals, who perhaps were -well assured that he was going to share with -them his own scanty heap of polenta.</p> - -<p>The brown house on wheels leaned -slightly inward against the stone wall for -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span>security, as the hill’s incline was steep at -this point. The door opened directly upon -the top of the wall, which formed a broad -and convenient doorstep, reached from the -ground by a short ladder. About the -wagon and in the field close by everybody -was busy.</p> - -<p>The great canvas of the tent had been -unpacked from the top of the wagon, and -the two women sat on the ground patching -the holes and thin places worn in it by long -use. Some of the men were making trips -back and forth from wagon and field, -carrying sections of board for inclosing -the ring. These were to be set up in their -places by and by, when Antonio should have -finished marking off the circle on the grass, -with the hole in the center for the tent pole. -There was nothing, as yet, for the children -to do but loll in the shadow of the wagon, -asleep or awake, and chatter among themselves.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span></p> - -<p>As Natale and the dogs drew near, -Elvira, the boy’s mother, looked up from -her stitching and clapped her hand to her -forehead on seeing them.</p> - -<p>“Natale! I had forgotten the child. -Little pest, where have you been, away -from us all, and your dinner? One would -think you had friends in the town and -had been taking your polenta in grander -houses than ours here.”</p> - -<p>Natale replied to these mocking words -with only a rather naughty shrug of the -shoulders, and went to sit down on the -lowest step of the short ladder against the -wall.</p> - -<p>“Give him his polenta, Arduina,” Nonna -called shrilly from a little way behind. -“He was asleep, Elvira, all tired out with -walking to-day as much as any man among -us. I keep my eyes open. Don’t scold the -boy.”</p> - -<p>“One would think my Natale your own -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span>grandson, Nonna,” Elvira replied, laughing -good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>“All boys are as her own sons or grandsons,” -Nonna’s daughter-in-law interposed -carelessly, as the old woman passed on with -Tito, perhaps to see that Arduina gave -Natale his proper share of mush.</p> - -<p>In Nonna’s big warm heart there was indeed -room for the sons and grandsons of -those who were too sparing of motherly -love and care for their own. The gray-haired -woman had long ago accepted this -wandering life for the sake of continuing -near to her only son, Antonio, the acrobat, -and Antonio’s children. When her boy at -the age of twenty-two had given up everything -that his mother thought of worth in -the world—home, a decent, quiet life in -it, books, school, a career as a priest—in -order to marry Cara, a rosy, lithe-limbed -rope-dancer out of Egypt, he had found that -his mother was not going to be given up -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span>along with these. By and by, when the -babies began to come every year or two, -Nonna came to be appreciated even by the -fantastic daughter-in-law given her by -Antonio, while in the hearts of all the little -ones Nonna was—well, Nonna,—and -therefore everything good and patient and -sweet.</p> - -<p>It was Nonna who cared for the ailing -Pietro, who rubbed Natale’s stiff ankles and -elbows with an ointment of her own invention -to limber them up, who thought to tuck -Olga’s long red hair out of the way when -practice time came and the curling locks -would have teased the little face and shoulders -turned upside down and hindside before. -It was Nonna who nursed the babies -and put them to bed while the mothers rode -the horses in the tent, and Nonna who led -the poor pony about to “fresh fields and -pastures new”, and Nonna who instructed -giddy-brained Arduina in the simple mysteries<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> -of concocting savory stews out of next to -nothing, and how to make corn meal for ten -do service as polenta for twice as many. -The little troop could not have done without -Nonna, no, indeed!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br /> -<span class="smaller">IN THE RING</span></h2></div> - -<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap"><span class="dropcap">I</span>t</span> took all of that first day and most of the -next to get everything into shape for -an exhibition on the second night after -the arrival of the circus troop at Cutigliano.</p> - -<p>The turf had been removed from the ring, -or round space inclosed by the low panels -of wood, and the tent pole erected, by the -time the canvas was mended and the side -curtains were ready to be hung.</p> - -<p>The sun was just about to slip over the -mountain rim in the west when everything -was done, and it only remained to draw the -stout ropes and hoist the canvas into -position. Natale was generally on hand -when this was done, listening for the creaking -of the pulley at the top of the pole, as -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span>the dull yellow canvas slowly rose into -position, till, all at once, it spread like a -queer, pointed mushroom over the green -grass of the field.</p> - -<p>It was a fortunate thing that there was -no wind that first evening, for if there had -been even a stiff breeze there would have -been no performance. A very little wind -caught under the canvas spread on that -exposed hillside before it was securely roped -into place might have carried it all away to -be stranded in the tops of the chestnut trees -below, and a new canvas for such a <i>circo</i> -as that would have cost certainly three -hundred francs.</p> - -<p>When at last the tent was raised, Giovanni -hung above the entrance a broad -strip of blue canvas with clowns’ and -horses’ heads painted upon it, and the sign -in large letters: “Circo Equestre”, which -is Italian for “Circus with Horses.”</p> - -<p>Lastly, figured curtains of pale green -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span>calico were hung around the little vestibule, -so that outsiders who had not paid the -entrance fee might not peep inside and see -what was going on, without payment.</p> - -<p>Now all was ready, and it was still early, -although almost dark in the field. Among -the mountains, where one lives perhaps at -the foot or even half-way up the slopes, -night falls early, because the sinking sun is -hidden from sight over the mountain tops -long before it really drops into the sea -behind them.</p> - -<p>Yet it was not quite time to light the -lamps inside the tent, as the performance -was not to begin until half-past eight -o’clock. Cutigliano was full of Italians, -and a few English and Americans who had -left the hot cities behind, with their churches -and picture galleries and ruins, and had -come to the pleasant hotels of the ancient -mountain town to enjoy the fine air and -the beautiful chestnut woods during the hot -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span>summer months. These visitors would not -be through with their dinners at the hotels -before eight o’clock, while the servants and -plain village folk would find a late hour -convenient for coming down the hill to the -yellow tent.</p> - -<p>At seven o’clock, however, the three men, -with the big brass horn, the cornet and the -drum, climbed the stony street into the town -and made lively music in the little stone-paved -<i>piazzas</i>, or open squares, where the -children played in the sunset light.</p> - -<p>By this time everybody in Cutigliano had -learned what had been going on down in the -field for the past two days, and many even -of the rich strangers had made up their -minds to go to see the show, partly out of -curiosity, partly out of kindly purpose -to help the strolling players. It had been -announced that six <i>soldi</i>, or cents, would -admit to the side of the ring where there -would be benches and a chair or two for -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span>seats, while three cents offered room on the -other side with a few boards and the green -grass as accommodation. Visitors were -invited to bring chairs for their sittings, if -possible.</p> - -<p>The music sounded very brave and loud -as it returned down the very steepest street -of all, which ran between high walls past -Madame Cioche’s English <i>pension</i> or boarding-house -and ended in the field. As this -was a dark and even dangerous descent at -night for the unwary, Antonio had driven -a nail into a tree at the foot of the street, -and had hung there a smutty tin lamp, with -the light flaring and the smoke pouring -from two long spouts.</p> - -<p>Nonna had beguiled most of the children -away from the tent by this time, and was -putting the youngest to bed in the wagon, -while the others rolled over the grass behind -the tent.</p> - -<p>Natale was as busy as a bee in the small -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span>tent which opened out of the large one. -This was the dressing room, and the different -costumes of the actors lay in heaps on -the boxes scattered about.</p> - -<p>As half-past eight o’clock approached, -the boy became as excited as if this were to -be his first appearance in public, and he -kept lifting up the flap of curtain dividing -the two tents to see how fast the seats were -filling. The band had brought back a horde -of village children in its train, and though -few of these were possessed of the three -cents charged for children, they served to -keep up an appearance of bustle and enterprise -outside, where the band now played -the National Hymn of Italy gaily in the -light of the big lamp at the entrance.</p> - -<p>Cara, the mother of Olga and the rest of -the seven, stood in the vestibule and took -in the great copper cents which by and by -began to pile up in the bowl on the table. -She was a very striking person to look at, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span>with her coal-black hair frizzed bushily on -each side of her head, with her flashing -black eyes and her heavy brows, her red, -red lips and cheeks, and her scarlet and -black gown. No one dared to slip in behind -the rustling skirts or portly form of anybody -without paying, for her piercing eyes -seemed everywhere. Once or twice, when -the crowds about the doors seemed to -hesitate and to wonder whether, after all, -it were worth while to expend six or even -three cents for what was to be seen behind -the curtain, the pretty little figure of her -Olga was seen to flit, as if by accident, -across the vestibule, the full light streaming -over her little full blouse of yellow satin, -and her pink feet tripping as if on air.</p> - -<p>The anxious half-hour of expectation -ended in the sight of a full circle surrounding -the ring, and then the band came inside and -all the performers slipped into the smaller -tent and hurried on their costumes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span></p> - -<p>The band played on; Arduina danced a -measured dance on the tight rope which -was stretched near the ground; the clown -made his funny jokes; Antonio performed -his clever feats on the bars; Elvira rode -the galloping horses with Cara dancing in -and out and everywhere, while Giovanni -cracked the whip and Paulo held the bar -for Il Duca to leap. The pantomime then -brought shouts of laughter and loud hand-clappings -from the spectators; and afterward -the tumbling began.</p> - -<p>There was nothing that Olga loved so -much, and she showed it in every line of her -chubby, yet nimble little figure as she came -prancing into the ring, and then went heels -over head, over and over again, without -stopping to breathe, as far as the strip of -dusty carpet stretched. Then back again -she tumbled, only stopping to toss a stray -wisp of hair from her flushed face.</p> - -<p>Next Arduina came tripping in, and over -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span>and over she went too, not so gracefully and -daintily as Olga had done, for Arduina was -getting a little too large for that kind of -thing,—a great girl of fifteen years.</p> - -<p>The clown followed Arduina, dressed in -his clumsy suit of black and white, and what -a farce his tumbling was, to be sure; only -the spectators must have known that he -failed in order to make them laugh at his -awkwardness, and make merry they did.</p> - -<p>Somehow Natale never quite enjoyed the -laughter which often accompanied his own -performances, and now his time had come.</p> - -<p>“<i>Ecco!</i> Natalino!” called his stepfather, -the clown, rushing behind the curtain -all breathless and covered with dust. -“Over and over and over you go, youngster, -without stopping to sneeze between!”</p> - -<p>Natale was such a little fellow, so much -smaller than Olga even, that many of the -faces outside the ring softened at sight of -him, as he darted out into the light of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span>lamps and then halted to make his funny -little salute. He was dressed in imitation -of the clown, in long black trousers and a -tailed black coat, with a pointed white -waistcoat reaching below his waist. With -an earnest seriousness very different from -Olga’s smiling grace, Natale turned his first -somersault, paused on his back, turned -another jerkily, while the little boys watching -him hooted, and a ripple of laughter ran -around the ring. Back again he came, -however, his thin black legs sprawling in -air, and his pale little face flushing with the -exertion. On his feet again, he clapped one -hand to the back of his neck, bobbed his -head to the spectators, and trotted off -behind the friendly curtain, satisfied that -he had, at least, done as well as usual, and -pleased with the loud clapping attending -his exit. Indeed, there was a clapping and -a calling out of something with laughing -voices.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span></p> - -<p>“<i>Il picino! Il picino!</i>”<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>“You will have to go back, Natalino,” -laughed the clown. “Salute them and -stand on your head, boy, but don’t lose it -on the way.”</p> - -<p>The music played loudly, and Natale -stepped gravely back again, made his odd -little bow, and fell over on his hands as the -first step toward standing on his head. -Poor, stiff little legs! It took more than -one effort to throw them into an upright -position above his head, but finally he really -did accomplish it, and stood thus several -seconds while the shouting and laughing -went on.</p> - -<p>When Natale had disappeared a second -time behind the curtain, there were a few -grave faces among the laughing ones looking -on. An English lady whispered to her -companion and sighed.</p> - -<p>“The poor little fellow is evidently afraid -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span>to disobey that dreadful clown,” she said. -“Did you see how he trembled as the man -stood over him, when he tried to stand on -his head? Something ought to be done to -put a stop to this, Betty.”</p> - -<p>“The child looks weak, as if he were not -very well fed,” Betty answered, “but I do -not think he looks unhappy. And the -clown was certainly smiling, and seemed to -be standing by as if to help the little boy -accomplish his wonderful feat, I thought. -Don’t distress yourself, Aunty. He is just -learning, it may be, and they bring him in -to contrast him with that little beauty who -turned the ‘wheels.’ Send the boy some -good bread and meat to-morrow, and that -will be better for him than our empty -sympathy.”</p> - -<p>But “Aunty” was not satisfied, as we -shall see.</p> - -<p>The last act of the evening again brought -Natale to the fore. The big spotted horse, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span>Il Duca, was again brought into the ring, -and after he had cantered gaily around -inside the ring many times, to the music -of a schottisch, striking terror to the ladies -occupying the front seats, with their knees -pressed against the low barrier, the clown -suddenly called a halt and caught the -bridle of the panting steed. Gently the -solemn strains of the “Dead March” -sounded through the tent, and Il Duca fell -slowly and painfully upon his knees, and -then rolled over upon the ground, apparently -dying. The light dust of the ring -stirred under the beast’s laboring nostrils, -and deep groans issued from his throat, -while Giovanni stood mournfully by and -the music played on.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE FESTIVAL OF SAN LORENZO</span></h2></div> - -<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap"><span class="dropcap">S</span>uddenly</span> the small black figure of -Natale appeared, kneeling at the -horse’s side, although no one had -seen him slip in. With his hands clasped in -distress, he lifted his voice in such a disconsolate -wail that even Betty started and -wondered if the horse could be really dying.</p> - -<p>The solemn march was still sounding in -the tent, and before speaking the clown gave -the spectators full time to take in the tragic -tableau. Then he exclaimed briskly:</p> - -<p>“What are you crying about, boy?”</p> - -<p>“Because our horse is dead.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think he is quite dead, Natale?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, quite,” wailed the child.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p> - -<p>“Get up and feel his pulse, boy. If there -is any pulse he is not dead.”</p> - -<p>Natale went nearer and took one of the -great hoofs of the horse fearlessly into his -little hands, and felt for the “pulse.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what do you find?” asked the -clown impatiently.</p> - -<p>“There isn’t any pulse,” the little fellow -wailed again, laying down the big black -hoof with the utmost tenderness.</p> - -<p>“Too bad,” quoth the clown, taking his -seat deliberately on the prostrate horse, -which lay as motionless as if certainly dead. -Then, all in a moment, Natale’s manner -changed, and he skipped around in front of -Giovanni, remarking glibly that the gentleman -had found a beautiful sofa to sit upon.</p> - -<p>“And I shall have a kiss to prove that the -beast is not dead,” exclaimed the clown, -chirruping a little and smacking his lips. -And the great brown head of the horse -lifted itself from the dust, the graceful neck -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span>turned, and Il Duca actually kissed his -master, then scrambled hastily to his feet -as if glad for that job to be over, while -Giovanni hurried him out of the ring.</p> - -<p>“Such silly jokes!” commented Mrs. -Bishop, otherwise Aunty, as the performance -ended, and the rollicking crowd poured -out of the tent. “Think of my having spent -two whole hours listening to them, and all -on pins too, for fear that poor, ill-used child -should be forced to do some other unchristian -thing.”</p> - -<p>“But, Aunty, what did you expect when -you came?” Betty asked impatiently. -“Surely the little show was not bad, and -there was actually nothing but what was -quite decent in every way.”</p> - -<p>“I call it ‘bad’ to beat and starve children -into turning themselves into monkeys.”</p> - -<p>“If people would not go to see the -‘monkeys’ it would be stopped,” was -Betty’s retort.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, I am sure I only went to oblige -Mrs. Choky,” Aunty said in an injured tone. -“She said she thought we ought to encourage -the poor people on their first night. But it -will be my last night there, as I shall very -soon inform her. ‘Encourage’ them to -martyrize that poor child, indeed!”</p> - -<p>From the first performance in Cutigliano, -therefore, Natale’s trouble began, although -he did not know it. Contented and tired he -lay down in his corner of the brown house -on wheels and went to sleep, while the men -let down the big yellow canvas of the large -tent and furled it about the pole. But -first, he ate his supper of macaroni with -the rest of the actors, gathered in the small -tent behind. Midnight suppers were the -rule on the nights when there were performances, -as it would have been at the -risk of upsetting their stomachs in more -ways than one to eat food beforehand.</p> - -<p>Later, the stars kept quiet watch above -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span>the little encampment, where even Pietro -slept well, with the open house door admitting -the fresh air of the mountains.</p> - -<p>For ten days the yellow “mushroom” -spread over the grass of the field, although -very much in the way of the fine city gentlemen, -playing at ball with bats like tambourines. -The noisy music at night and the -cheering in the tent may have kept the -invalids in the nearest boarding-houses -awake and nervous, and the people at large -may have grown tired of the performances -which they soon learned by heart, but no -one felt inclined to hustle the poor people -away, and no one grumbled except Mrs. -Bishop.</p> - -<p>There was something pathetic about the -clown in his everyday dress, his gayety and -paint all gone and the deep lines of his face -showing too plainly in the garish light of -day, as he pottered about the tent, adjusting ropes, -and keeping off the village boys -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span>who would throw stones upon the old -canvas, or play hide and seek among the -curtains. It gave one a queer feeling, also, -to fancy the drooping figure of Pietro, with -his pure little face like alabaster, a member -of the “wicked circus troop.”</p> - -<p class="p2b">This child was perhaps twelve years old, -and he had the face of an angel. He had -begun to lose his daily feverishness after a -week in the mountains, and was soon able -to limp, and later to run feebly about the -field with the village boys.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> -<a id="illo1"><img src="images/i_044.jpg" width="350" alt="Mrs. Bishop looked down upon the tent from the garden terrace." -title="" /></a></div></div> - -<p class="caption">Mrs. Bishop looked down upon the tent from the garden terrace.<br /> -<span class="center"><i>Page <a href="#Page_45">45.</a></i></span></p> - -<p class="p2">But Natale, spidery little Natale, interested -every one more even than did Pietro. -Yet he looked only an everyday lad during -the long summer days, when he trotted up -and down, to and from the town, carrying -now a bowl of this, now a flask of that, -but always carrying something. To most -people he seemed as happy as the days were -long, just as ready for a chat with a strange -foreigner who might address him in broken -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span>Italian as with old Sora Teresa who sold -fruit and vegetables in the piazza, and who -sometimes presented him with a ripe red -tomato, or a slice of melon all green and -pink.</p> - -<p>But Mrs. Bishop looked down upon the -tent from the garden terrace of Madame -Cioche’s boarding-house every day, and -slowly formed a plan for making Natale’s -life happier. Poor little Natale!</p> - -<p>The terrace garden above the field was -shaded with plane trees and the mountain -ash, and the grass was soft and richly green. -Each afternoon some of the boarders would -gather at the palings on the edge of this -garden and watch the gentlemen playing -ball below, and the village boys imitating -Olga and Natale at turning somersaults and -wheels.</p> - -<p>One afternoon, while the boarders were -drinking tea under the ash trees, with the -berries overhead turning red, and the sun -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span>streaming across the croquet ground, there -came a knock at the side door of the boarding-house. -Madame Cioche herself opened -the door, and there stood Natale, smiling -up into her face, with the old blue hat set -far back on his dark curls. The lady -noticed that the boy’s face was very clean.</p> - -<p>“Happy day to you,” he said brightly, -using the peasant form of address, “and -my mamá says will you please send her a cup -of tea? She is feeling ill to-day.”</p> - -<p>Of course Madame Cioche would send the -tea, fetching it herself from the dining room -and handing it to the boy. But she kept -Natale a moment to ask how it was that his -mamá could possibly like tea.</p> - -<p>“Oh, but she has it every day when we -are in Egypt,” was the reply. “And to-day -her head aches. Thank you, Signora.” -And Natale went off down the hill carrying -the big cup as carefully as his bowls and -flasks were always carried.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Bishop overheard the word “Egypt” -and sighed.</p> - -<p>The next day was Sunday and an important -festival, being the day of San -Lorenzo. A great harvest of <i>soldi</i> was -expected, as peasants from all the mountain -villages would come trooping in that day, -to go to high mass in the church under the -old mountain firs, and to take part in the procession -of the “saints” in the afternoon. So -there was, of course, to be a performance in -the tent that day, but in the afternoon this -time, just after the procession, instead of -in the evening, when everybody would be -tired or toiling homeward along the dark -mountain ways. As there was nothing for -him to do about the tent, however, until -five o’clock should boom from the stone -tower of the church, Natale made good use -of his legs during the whole day, for there -was much to see.</p> - -<p>Betty Bishop had tossed a penny into his -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span>hands down over the garden palings that -very Sunday morning. Perhaps she was -thinking of some little child at home in -England who would be clamoring for a -penny to carry to Sunday school, but -Natale had no thought of dropping his -precious two <i>soldi</i> into the priest’s collecting -bag in the church.</p> - -<p>The <i>piazza</i> was too fascinating a place to -be passed by, when one held a penny of his -own fast in his fist. With the dogs on each -side of him, therefore, Natale spent most -of the day above in the town, going from -booth to booth, and in fancy spending his -money over and over again. There were -sweets of various kinds offered for sale on -the little tables along the steep, narrow -streets, and booths of everything from -coarse stuffs and ready-made clothing to -breastpins of gay mosaic work and filigree -rings.</p> - -<p>Everywhere Natale was jostled by the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span>peasants who all through the morning had -flocked to the town, dressed in their best -clothes and wearing holiday looks on their -faces. The women and girls wore gay -kerchiefs on their heads, with brilliant -borderings and flowing ends, while even the -men wore bits of vivid color in the shape of -gorgeous neck scarfs spread over their white -shirt fronts. Mingled with these walked the -lords and ladies of a higher class dressed -according to the fashion plates of Paris, and -seeming to enjoy the hot sunshine and the -gay restiveness of the multitude as much as -the plainer folk. All day the frolic and -prayers and the music of the town band and -the church organ went on in the little town, -till mid-afternoon, when there fell a hush -over all and a great expectation.</p> - -<p>Natale had not a very good place from -which to see the procession pass, for he -stood between a very stout peasant woman -and a visiting priest in his full black gown. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span>Still, he managed to peer from under their -elbows without attracting their attention, -and he was content, holding securely in one -hand, meanwhile, the balloon whistle which -he had finally purchased with his penny. -The pretty red bubble of rubber had not -yet burst, and Natale was happy in its -possession. The handful of crisp wafers -flavored with anise seed, which he had -almost bought—so very foolish he had -been—would have been eaten long ere -this, and it would be as if he had never had -a penny of his own tossed over the fence to -him by a smiling young lady, but now he -still had the whistle!</p> - -<p>On they came, the straggling company -of men and boys, dressed in white gowns -and cowls, and bearing huge lighted -candles in their hands. Natale thought he -would like to have been one of the two boys -bearing the immense candlesticks of brass; -yet, after all, the candlesticks must be very -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span>heavy, and they were propped very uncomfortably -on the little boys’ stomachs, -and very red and perspiring were the little -boys’ faces.</p> - -<p>Natale thought the men’s feet ugly and -clumsy, showing below the white gowns, -and their harsh, chanting voices made him -shiver. But he could not follow the awkward -marching steps of the peasants with -laughing looks as some of the onlookers -were doing, for here, behind the banners and -crucifixes, came two very curious-looking -objects.</p> - -<p>“<i>Ecco!</i> the dead saints!” he exclaimed -softly to himself. “How heavy they must -be in the glass boxes on the men’s shoulders. -Yet our Antonio Bisbini would never bend -so under a small box as those men do. -Ah! but the little girls are pretty, so pretty -in their white veils, and scattering flowers -before the saints.”</p> - -<p>The crowd closed in upon the end of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span>procession now, and Natale could see no -more, as he was nearly overturned where -he stood. After a breathless moment or -two, he found himself left in peace and -quiet under the great old fir trees in front -of the church, with the crowd all gone and -Nicro and Bianco with them.</p> - -<p>Nonna had told him to be sure and see -the saints, if possible, so he went into the -dark old church and sat down on a low chair -to wait for the procession to return. He -knew that San Lorenzo and Sant’ Aurelio -would surely be brought back to spend the -night in the church, perhaps in front of the -candle-lighted altar, and he wished to -please Nonna. It was dark and quiet in -his corner under the organ gallery, and it -was a very easy and natural thing for a tired -little boy to fall asleep in that quiet place.</p> - -<p>When the procession returned after half -an hour, it was without the blare of trumpets -and the crash of organ music, though for a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span>long while shuffling feet passed in and out. -This continued until everybody had looked -at the two saints robed in costly garments -and reposing now at full length on their -satin cushions within their caskets of glass -set before the altar. Many touched the -rich cloths draping the caskets with reverent -fingers, and pressed kisses on the cold -glass before passing out into the radiant -sunset light.</p> - -<p>When Natale waked, the church doors -were still open, but only one light swung -before the high altar, and there was no -trace anywhere of dead saint or living soul. -He groped his way among the disarranged -chairs and benches quite to the altar rail, -but even the empty biers had been borne -away to some inner recess of the church, so, -with a dread that he had overslept awaking -in his mind, Natale found his way out of -the church again.</p> - -<p>The purple bloom of evening was creeping -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span>up the mountain sides, and a star glowed in -the sky. Just above the mountain line in -the west the crescent moon hovered, as if -uncertain over which side to sink. The -dread in Natale’s mind had nothing to do -with saints or dark churches. On awaking, -his first sensation had been a fear that he -might have missed the afternoon performance -in the beloved tent, and now, standing -outside the church in the dusk, he knew that -he had missed it!</p> - -<p>With a sob in his throat he turned his -face from the telltale sky, and fled through -the village down to the field. When he -reached the wagon,—for he would not go -to the tent, quiet now and unlighted,—the -first words he heard came from Olga:</p> - -<p>“Have you not heard, Natalino? Giovanni -has lost a hundred francs! Somebody -stole them when he changed his coat -in the little tent. Yes, I know you were not -there! We wondered where you could be!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br /> -<span class="smaller">A GIFT FOR THE CIRCUS</span></h2></div> - -<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap"><span class="dropcap">N</span>atale</span> held his breath with horror. -One hundred francs lost! And he -not at hand to hear of it, to help -look for the money, among the very first? -He could not ask Olga how it had happened, -because his heart was almost too -disappointed and sore for words. He sat -down on the wall, with his back toward -the tent, and waited for her to tell all -about the loss, although he was not at all -certain that she would condescend to do -so. In fact, she said not a word more, -but stood in front of Natale, wondering -not a little at his unusual quiet.</p> - -<p>“You are sulky!” she exclaimed finally, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span>“and Giovanni is very angry with you. So -am I, for I had to feel Il Duca’s pulse, and -I did not like it at all. Suppose he had -kicked me, seeing that it was not you.”</p> - -<p>“Il Duca was dead!” Natale retorted, -with a twinkle in his eye, if only Olga could -have seen it. “He would not know you -from me!”</p> - -<p>“Dead!” cried Olga. “I believe you -truly do think that, when you set up your -crying, Natale; really I did not do it half -so well as you,” she confessed honestly.</p> - -<p>“But you ‘wheel’ much better than I -do,” Natale conceded with ready generosity -in return.</p> - -<p>“Il Duca did not shut his eyes at all,” -Olga went on, nodding assent to Natale’s -remark, “and I am sure he <i>winked</i> at me, -Natale, just to frighten me. It did not -take <i>me</i> long to feel his pulse! But where -were you, Natalino, all the time? Nonna -said she was afraid some of the peasants had -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span>stolen you and carried you off, when Niero -and Bianco came home without you.”</p> - -<p>“As if they would have let anybody steal -me! Olga, I went to sleep in the church, -waiting for the saints to come back, and -when I waked it was dark, almost as dark -as this!”</p> - -<p>“Oho! then you must have been in the -church when Arduina and I went in to look -at the saints. Arduina said—but you -must not dare to tell anybody—she said -that she did not believe there were any -bones under the saints’ fine velvet robes -because San Lorenzo had a hand of pink -wax, and the rest of him looked rather -stuffed. But do not tell Nonna, Natale!”</p> - -<p>“Arduina is very wicked,” said Natale, -but he laughed with Olga, and then felt -much better, and as if he could ask about -the losing of the money.</p> - -<p>They were in a little nook to themselves, -behind the wagon, and no one heeded them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span></p> - -<p>“<i>Ecco!</i> it was this way,” Olga began, -charmed to be the first to recount the misfortune -to Natale, who was usually behind -none in his knowledge of the affairs of the -company. “Just when Giovanni was going -in to do the clown in the first dance on -the rope, the Signor Barbera, the stable -man, came behind the big tent with his bill -for keeping the horses, and Giovanni took -the big pocketbook out of the pocket of -his coat—”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know which pocket,” Natale -interposed. “I saw him put the money -there this morning.”</p> - -<p>“Well, the signor could not make the -change, so he told Giovanni it was all right, -and any time would do, and then Antonio -rang the bell for Giovanni, and he just put -the pocketbook back in his coat and hung -the coat on the nail in the little tent, and -hurried on the black coat, and went into the -ring.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, and then?” asked Natale breathlessly.</p> - -<p>“When he came back, he saw his coat on -the ground, and he knew he had hung it up. -‘How comes my coat on the ground?’ he -said, very loud indeed, and your mamá told -him he must have put it there himself. -But he did not hear her, because he was -shaking the coat and feeling in the pocket,—but -there was nothing there!</p> - -<p>“We made a great fuss about it,” -Olga ended, shrugging her shoulders and -throwing up her hands, “but what was -the use?”</p> - -<p>Natale was silent with dismay. A hundred -francs meant so much. It was all -that they had made during the ten days’ -stay at Cutigliano, and now it was gone, -in a moment.</p> - -<p>“The stable man?” he questioned in a -distressed tone of voice, and very low.</p> - -<p>“No, Giovanni said it could not have been -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span>the signor. He is a rich man and honest, -everybody says.”</p> - -<p>So subdued were they all over the trouble -of the afternoon that not even Elvira -thought it worth while to scold the quiet -boy who presently slipped in among the -little crowd of players in the tent, deep in -fruitless discussion over their grievous loss. -They had had a crowded tent that afternoon, -and the receipts had been so good that -this evening would have been one of rejoicing -if only the money for the labors of the -ten other days and nights had been again -safe in Giovanni’s pocket. There was not -the slightest clew to the thief, as no stranger -had been known to enter the tent, and -Giovanni had even interviewed the Signor -Barbera from outside the doorway. It had -been necessary to be on the lookout for -possible thieving, as the field was crowded -all the afternoon with strange peasants, -attracted by the band music and the big -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span>yellow tent, and by peddlers with their -wares. One very decent-looking peddler -had begged pretty, vain Arduina to look at -his beautiful jewelry and ribbons, but she -had refused him entrance very reluctantly, -and Giovanni himself had noticed how -patiently and decorously the man had -turned away. He had worn a red fez cap -over his long black hair, and his bushy -black beard had reached nearly to his waist.</p> - -<p>“I saw him!” Emilio, one of the musicians -exclaimed, “and his legs were as -crooked as Pietro’s, only they bent out at -the knee instead of in!” There was a laugh -at this sally, but Pietro frowned and muttered -something about Emilio’s having -little right to criticize the legs of others.</p> - -<p>“I met such a man as I came out of the -church in the crowd,” said Nonna, hastening -to speak that a dispute might be avoided. -“He walked very well notwithstanding his -poor, bent legs, and he asked me if he were -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span>too late to get a glimpse of the blessed -relics. A politer man I never saw, though -Tito was afraid of him, and began to cry -when the man snapped his fingers at him.”</p> - -<p>Poor Natale felt so left out in the cold -with this talk that he could not bear it long, -and was just about to creep away, down to -his corner in the wagon, when a strange -hand lifted a corner of the tent flap, and a -strange voice inquired for “<i>Il piccolo -Natale</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Some ladies up at the house there have -a little present for you all,” the black-coated -Italian butler of the boarding-house -announced, peering in upon the group -gathered about the sputtering lamp inside, -“but they wish to send it down by the boy, -Natale.”</p> - -<p>Then Natale was himself again, and without -demur or bashfulness presented himself -to the servant.</p> - -<p>“It is well you turned up in time, Natalino,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> -said the clown, giving him a little -shove toward the dignified butler waiting -just outside. “Perhaps Olga would not -have done, in this case. Off with you to the -<i>forestieri</i><a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> above!”</p> - -<p>Many a boy would have been abashed at -finding himself the center of such a group as -awaited Natale in the hallway of the house -in the garden. But Natale was too well -accustomed to an array of faces fixed upon -him to make the least show of bashfulness. -The lady of the house, whose pleasant face -he knew very well, laid her hand on his -shoulder and asked him kindly in Italian if -anything had been heard of the money lost -that afternoon, and her soft, dark eyes -looked sympathetically into his own.</p> - -<p>“No, signora, and my papá says we shall -never see a <i>soldo</i> of it again,” was Natale’s -prompt answer.</p> - -<p>“Ask him if they have any idea of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span>person who stole it,” Betty Bishop suggested -in English, and Madame Cioche did so. -Natale’s answer to this was more expressive -than polite perhaps, for without words he -simply raised his shoulders as high as -possible, pressing his elbows against his -sides, and spreading his hands wide to indicate -the complete ignorance of his people -as to the coward who had taken their hard-earned -money. And the drawn-down -corners of his mouth so changed the expression -of his face that one would hardly -have known him.</p> - -<p>“Who would have believed the child -could make himself so ugly,” Mrs. Bishop -exclaimed. “Have you no tongue, boy, -to answer properly?”</p> - -<p>But as English words were far less intelligible -to Natale than Caffero’s whinny, -or Niero’s bark, he only looked up into -Madame Cioche’s face and smiled.</p> - -<p>“There! it is a bonny little face after -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span>all,” said that lady, “and now shall we give -him the money and send him away?”</p> - -<p>“No, let me speak to him first,” demanded -Mrs. Bishop, “and you, Mrs. -Choky, must interpret. Ask him if he likes -to be a wicked little circus boy.”</p> - -<p>“Aunty!” gasped Betty.</p> - -<p>“Never mind, I have a reason for my -question, Betty. Hush, what does he -say?”</p> - -<p>“Do you like to play in the circus, dear?” -asked Mrs. Cioche’s kind voice, in Italian.</p> - -<p>Natale’s eyes shone.</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes, signora! And when I am a -man, I shall be another Antonio Bisbini.”</p> - -<p>“He says he likes it very much, Mrs. -Bishop,” was the interpretation.</p> - -<p>“Already corrupted, poor boy, and so -young!” the old lady sighed, while Betty -laughed outright.</p> - -<p>“Ask him if he would not like better to -have some nice clothes, and go to school, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span>and grow up to be a decent man some day, -Mrs. Choky.” That lady hesitated a little -before putting this question into Italian.</p> - -<p>“What does she say to me?” Natale -asked, his brown eyes twinkling as he looked -from one to the other, his teeth showing -white between his red lips. Natale’s was -a wide, good-natured mouth, very prone to -laugh upon small provocation.</p> - -<p>“She wants to know if you would not like -to go to school, and learn to read and write,” -said Madame Cioche.</p> - -<p>“And leave the <i>circo</i>?” Natale asked with -a gasp.</p> - -<p>“Yes, you could not go to school unless -you should stop in one place, you know.”</p> - -<p>“And not travel about with the horses -and wagon any more, and leave Nonna?”</p> - -<p>“Of course, Natale. But she is only asking -you about it, <i>carino</i>, so do not look so -troubled.”</p> - -<p>Natale laughed then, and happily.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span></p> - -<p>“She wanted to find out how much I love -the <i>circo</i>!” he exclaimed. “Please tell her, -signora. You know, how we all love the -<i>circo</i>!”</p> - -<p>“I think I do, Natale. He does not want -to go to school, Mrs. Bishop,” turning to the -eager old lady, “because he loves his life -with the circus and his own people too -much.”</p> - -<p>“And he does not wish to leave his grandmother,” -chimed in Betty who had very -cleverly picked up a good deal of Italian -during a winter and summer in Italy, and -all grandmothers are Nonnas in that land.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Bishop was silent for a moment, her -gaze taking in every detail of Natale’s little -figure standing sturdily before her, dusty -shoes, and rough peasant leggings, velveteen -trousers, faded blue blouse, and rumpled -curls, with the old hat held in one sun-burned -hand. His face was not so clean as -usual now, and there were tired circles about -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span>his eyes. It had been a long, exciting summer’s -day.</p> - -<p>“Children—especially boys—do not -know what is best for themselves,” she said -presently, bending her brows, but not in the -least frightening Natale, “and I am not going -to give up my plan, for this baby’s -nonsense. Why, he cannot be over eight -years old, at the most.”</p> - -<p>“Here, Natale,” said Madame Cioche, -judging that the interview might well be -concluded, and handing the boy a small -packet. “Take this to your papá, and tell -him that the ladies and gentlemen in my -house have heard of the loss of the money, -and are sending him thirty-five francs as -a little present. Can you carry it safely?”</p> - -<p>Again Natale’s sweet smile broke over his -face, but he only nodded happily in reply, -tucking the money away in the bosom of his -blouse.</p> - -<p>“Ask him how long they are going to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span>stay,” Mrs. Bishop called after Madame -Cioche, who was going to the gate with -Natale.</p> - -<p>“He says that the <i>sindaco</i>—the mayor—has -offered them the use of the field for -another week,” Madame Cioche said, her -eyes glowing, as she returned to the hall. -“I am glad of that, as the poor creatures -will need all they can make here, now.”</p> - -<p>“I call it a sort of punishment, their losing -the money when playing on Sunday,” Mrs. -Bishop said severely, and one or two other -English ladies nodded their approval of this -speech. “And I think the whole business -wrong and that it ought to be discouraged. -I was not at all sure about the propriety of -giving my francs to your little collection, -Mrs. Choky.”</p> - -<p>“Would it have been more Christian to -have let them suffer, perhaps for food, and -the poor beasts too?” the hostess asked, -pausing on her way through the hall.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span></p> - -<p>“But surely you think circusing wrong -and <i>un</i>christian?” the disputative old lady -exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Aunty, do be quiet,” cried Betty -warmly. “I am sure you ought not to -dispute ‘on Sunday’! Besides,” she added, -as everybody laughed, and two or three -softly applauded, “they make their living -that way, and we cannot change them into -farmers, or preachers. But I think it is -always wrong not to help honest people who -are in trouble.”</p> - -<p>“If they <i>are</i> honest,” Mrs. Bishop remonstrated, -but under her breath, this time, -for Madame Cioche’s eyes were sparkling, -and she seemed waiting to speak.</p> - -<p>“Those poor creatures down there deserve -nothing but praise,” she said stoutly; -“they are quiet folks, who teach their children -obedience and keep themselves -remarkably clean and mended. If they -make their living in a way we do not approve,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> -we cannot change them, as Miss -Betty says, but we can feed them when they -are hungry, and that seems to me not -‘unchristian’!”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid she has a little temper,” -said Mrs. Bishop, as their hostess went -upstairs.</p> - -<p>“A temper I like!” exclaimed a gentleman -who had before kept silent, looking up -from his book. “But do you still think of -carrying out your plan, Mrs. Bishop?”</p> - -<p>“If possible, certainly,” was the reply, -while Betty, shaking her head, walked out -into the garden. There, under the stars, -she stood looking down upon the tent in the -field. There was no wind, and the heavens -were fair, so the canvas had not been furled.</p> - -<p>“I should like it myself,” she murmured. -“What a fascinating life to live! Camping -out the year round in Italy, with no troublesome -dressing four times a day, no tiresome -<i>table-d’hôte</i> dinners at night. But after all -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span>I should not like to be that girl,—Arduina, -they call her. Of course, Aunty is right -about the rope dancing and other ‘circusing’ -on Sunday, only she need not be quite -so fussy over what we certainly cannot help. -Poor Natale! how disturbed he did look -when Madame Cioche asked him about -going to school!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br /> -<span class="smaller">SEPARATION</span></h2></div> - -<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap"><span class="dropcap">N</span>atale</span> lay flat on the grass, his -face hidden on his arms, and his -feet rebelliously kicking the ground. -The added week granted by the mayor -had passed, and the circus-wagon was -about to move on.</p> - -<p>“You are only to try it, child, and if it -will not do, you can come back to us. One -year is not a hundred.”</p> - -<p>No reply from Natale.</p> - -<p>“You ought to think, sometimes, of how -many mouths your stepfather has to fill,” -another voice began. “Five children, and -not one his own.”</p> - -<p>“Why did he marry us then?” fiercely -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span>muttered Natale, but without lifting his -head, so perhaps nobody heard.</p> - -<p>“You will have new clothes and shoes!”</p> - -<p>“And a new hat, Natalino!”</p> - -<p>“And you will learn to read much faster -than I can teach you ’Lino, with all the -practicings and the journeyings. Perhaps -you will even learn to be as clever as my -Antonio was, before—” Nonna ended with -a sigh instead of more words.</p> - -<p>The women and girls were in the side -tent, busied about dinner, and Nonna -would not finish her sentence in the presence -of Antonio’s wife.</p> - -<p>“I would rather be our Antonio than—than -the King or the <i>principino</i>,”<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> Natale -cried helplessly. Then he sat up on the -worn grass, and faced them all, tearful but -resolute. “I shall not stay here with the -priest and go to school, mamá,” he said -earnestly. “You shall not leave me behind<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> -and take Maria and Pietro and the -rest.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps we can persuade Giovanni to -leave little Bianco with you, if the good -priest does not object,” Nonna whispered -in his ear.</p> - -<p>“No, I shall go with you,” returned -Natale.</p> - -<p>“Ah! what is all this?” came suddenly -in Giovanni’s gruff, good-natured tones. -“What? Natale will not stay? The beautiful -little star of the ring will not leave us -in the darkness?” And the clown entered -the tent and flung himself down, laughing, -beside the little boy.</p> - -<p>“Hurry with the polenta, Arduina,” he -called to his stepdaughter, who had lifted -her hot face from the steam of the mush pot -to laugh at the man’s rough wit. “The -biggest hole yet torn in the tent must be -mended this afternoon, and the canvas is -almost dry now in this wind. If it had not -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span>rained yesterday, and if the wind had not -played us such a trick on the very eve of -our going, we should have made our fortunes -yesterday. A cattle fair does not -offer itself every day, with its crowd of -country bumpkins who never saw a man -in tights. Now, that will do, Natale,” -turning to the boy, who was sniffing -audibly. “Hours ago it was all decided, -and there is nothing more to be said.”</p> - -<p>“Then I am <i>not</i> to stay in this horrid -place, Giovanni—papá—”</p> - -<p>“‘Giovanni—papá—!’ No more of -these tears, Natalino. You are to stay in -this beautiful place, and after polenta, you -are to go up to the garden and thank the -lady.”</p> - -<p>With a loud, rebellious howl, Natale -sprang to his feet and rushed out into the -open air. Nor did he stop until he stood -among the briar bushes below the garden -palings. Clenching his small grimy fists, he -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span>stood there looking up toward the many-windowed -<i>pension</i> and shook them vehemently, -while his shrill voice cried out -passionately:</p> - -<p>“I shall not stay here! I shall not go to -school! I like my old hat, and I want -Nonna to teach me to read. I shall never -thank you, <i>never</i>, <span class="allsmcap">NEVER</span>, NEVER!”</p> - -<p>He had seen no one in the garden, and -was only addressing the whole houseful of -his enemies up there in the big yellow building -with the staring windows. Why should -they interfere with him? Why should -any one be trying to make him wretched,—the -most wretched boy in all Italy?</p> - -<p>“Heyday! what’s all this about?” and -a white-haired old man, speaking from the -garden, came close to the palings and looked -over at the small, threatening figure among -the bushes. “I cannot understand your -gibberish, if you are talking to me. You -would better go away now, little boy, or -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span>some of your people will come and whip -you.”</p> - -<p>“How suddenly you stopped the noise, -Mr. Grantly,” exclaimed Betty, coming up -to his side. “Who was it? Why, Aunty’s -little protégé, Natale! How pitiful he -looks, walking away as if his feelings were -hurt. You must have frightened him.”</p> - -<p>“Not a bit of it, ma’am. He frightened -<i>me</i> with his fierce little voice. It came -suddenly, just as I was dropping off to -sleep in my chair. It is a relief to have -them moving on this afternoon, with their -horns and drum. But that boy stays, -some one tells me. Is it possible that the -family agreed to give him up? I have -understood that the Italians cling to each -other as much as even we do in America -or England. Do they really leave the -child?”</p> - -<p>“For more money than he could ever -bring them by his somersaulting, yes,” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span>Betty answered. “Sometimes I think -Aunty really does not know what to do -with her money,” the girl went on confidentially -to the old gentleman, who was -listening with interest. “Now, that boy -has no desire to be taken away from ‘the -evil life he is leading’ in Aunty’s estimation, -and he does not wish to be sent to school -and become ‘a decent man.’”</p> - -<p>“Ah! tell me the whole plan, now. I -heard something of it a few days ago.”</p> - -<p>“It is very simple—all but getting Natale -to agree to being imposed upon,” Betty went -on a little vexedly. “Aunty has had the -stepfather and the mother up here several -times this past week to be talked to, and -an old woman who seems to be the grandmother -of them all. Miss Lorini has done -all the interpreting, and also saw the priest -about it, as Madame Cioche would not. -They have agreed to leave Natale here for -one year; he is to be taken care of by the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span>priest’s mother, and to be sent to school and -made ‘decent,’ poor little fellow.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Grantly laughed, but said nothing, for -his heart was still young and understanding -of boyish hearts, if his head was white, and -he felt a wise interest in Mrs. Bishop’s -philanthropic scheme.</p> - -<p>“Aunty is to pay everything, and she -says she thinks she knows now why all the -hotels up at Abetone were full so she could -not get a good room there for these three -weeks. She finds that she was ‘ordained’ -to rescue a boy from his persecutors, as she -persists in calling the circus men. It is -supposed, I believe, that all little boys and -girls of circuses have been stolen from kind -parents, and if not are half-killed with -cruelty by their own.”</p> - -<p>“You speak very warmly, young lady,” -Mr. Grantly remarked, a little reproof in his -tone. “There is no doubt that many such -children do suffer and are very unhappy.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span></p> - -<p>“Those certainly do not!” retorted Betty, -pointing to a number of the circus children -frolicking in the field with Niero and Bianco. -Olga’s red cotton dress was flitting over the -grass, and her merry laugh was echoed by -the other little ones, as Niero finally caught -her red skirts in the chase.</p> - -<p>“Of course the clown objected at first,” -Betty continued, “but Aunty was more -determined than he and soon proved to -him that it would be worth his while to -agree. The old lady, whom they call -Nonna, was curiously anxious for Natale -to have a chance at schooling. I wondered -at that till I heard about her son.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know,” Mr. Grantly assented. -“Some, however, would think he had made -a very fair exchange in giving up the future -of a priest for the easy, out-of-doors life of -an acrobat. There is no accounting for tastes, -though. And is this boy to be made a priest?”</p> - -<p>“Only let my Aunty hear you say that!” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span>laughed the girl. “No, indeed, but the -priest was the only one who would agree to -be troubled with the child, after Miss Lorini -had explained all Aunty’s conditions—how -Natale was to have a cold bath every morning, -meat to eat every day, and new shoes -as soon as his old ones come into holes. -The priest, too, has agreed to write a letter -to Aunty every month to tell her of Natale’s -progress—”</p> - -<p>“Toward growing into a ‘decent man’?” -interposed Mr. Grantly. “Well, I hope the -plan will work well for all parties. Few -Italian peasant lads get such a chance.” -Then the old gentleman went back to his -chair to continue his nap.</p> - -<p>All that afternoon, until four o’clock, -there was an unusual bustle going on about -the little encampment. The tattered, -damp, half-ruined canvas was rolled up and -packed along with poles and planks and -ropes on a small cart hired for this occasion,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> -while the cooking utensils and the -scant furniture of the tents were gathered -together for conveyance in the house-wagon. -It was a cold and dreary day, following the -night of stormy wind, with the clouds settling -close about the mountain tops and the -wind sweeping down the valley wet with -rain. And in the heart of Natale there -was even less promise of sunshine. He sat -apart from the others on the damp wall, -frowning and sullen.</p> - -<p>Half an hour before, he had been almost -forcibly dragged up the hill to the house in -the garden by Giovanni, who had made -little jokes to hide the sulkiness of the boy’s -replies to the questions of the ladies gathered -there. Madame Cioche had promptly hidden -herself when she saw the green gate -open and the pair coming in, but the clown -had walked directly through the hall and up -to the little table where Mrs. Bishop sat -taking her tea.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span></p> - -<p>No command of Giovanni nor persuasion -of Miss Lorini, who was an artist, could -induce Natale to say: “Thank you, signora, -for your kindness.” His revolt had -been beforehand hushed into silence by -some very plain threats of punishment by -his mother, but nothing could make him -say that he was glad to stay in Cutigliano -and go to school every day.</p> - -<p>He stood before them all, miserable as a -child could be, his face very clean and pale, -and a new pair of shoes already upon his -feet. They pinched his toes woefully, but -his heart ached more than his feet.</p> - -<p>“You will love the signora very much, -some day, when you are a man and remember -how good she was to the poor little boy -who knew nothing but how to turn somersaults,” -Miss Lorini had said caressingly in -her softest Italian, studying the piteous -face meanwhile with an eye to painting it -some day, when it should smile again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span></p> - -<p>“I shall learn to do something besides the -<i>capitomboli</i>,<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> when I am a man,” Natale had -said eagerly. “I shall be like our Antonio -some day.” Perhaps these foreigners would -be willing to leave him in peace if he could -convince them that he <i>wished</i> to be a strolling -player all his life.</p> - -<p>“He speaks as if he does not exactly -understand,” said Miss Lorini, looking at -Giovanni inquiringly. “Does he not know -that he is to give up the circus now?”</p> - -<p>Giovanni shrugged his shoulders, then -shook Natale’s slender shoulder, muttering:</p> - -<p>“No more of your silly talk, boy!” -Then louder, “If you will not thank the -lady, I do, with all my heart.” And with -that he bowed low, then pushing Natale -before him, went quickly away. He was, -in secret, rather sorry for the boy, who had -never before given any trouble with foolish -willfulness, and who had moreover such high -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span>ambitions! It did seem a stupid life to -which they were leaving the poor child, but -then there was to be considered the roll of -money already sewed into his own belt, -with more to accumulate there, if Natale -should be left still another year with the -priest Luigi. If rich <i>forestieri</i> had nothing -else to do with their money but give it -away in this frantic fashion, the stepfather -was not unwilling to share the bounty, and -Elvira, the mother, had seemed not to mind.</p> - -<p>So now Natale sat alone on the wall, feeling -very much out of it all, and longing to -hear some one say, “Natalino, do fetch me -this”, or “Carry that”; but no one said -anything of the kind. They seemed to feel -that he was no longer one of them, and his -little heart swelled to breaking.</p> - -<p>He was too young to long harbor ill-will -and of too sunny a spirit to sulk for many -minutes at a time, so presently he slipped -off the wall and ran to meet Olga, who was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span>struggling over to the traveling house-on-wheels, -dragging two stools behind her. -The very last things were being done, and -already the horses were standing by, ready -to be hitched at the last moment.</p> - -<p>“Do let me carry the stools, Olga,” -Natale pleaded with unwonted entreaty -in his voice. “Well, one of them, then.”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry you are going to stay behind -here, Natalino,” the little girl panted. -“Why do you? I should run after the -wagon if I were you!”</p> - -<p>Natale had never thought of such a -simple thing to do by way of escape! He -promptly set down the stool he had grasped -and looked fixedly away from Olga’s red-brown -eyes.</p> - -<p>Alas! in that critical moment, what did -he see approaching from the village? The -flat, broad-brimmed hat and flowing black -skirts of a priest, descending the street and -turning in at the field!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span></p> - -<p>There was then not a moment to be lost! -Forgetting Olga and the heavy stools, -Natale turned and fled, away—anywhere—out -of sight of the jailor advancing. -Everything flashed out of his mind except -the impulse to escape, to hide himself from -those searching eyes under the felt hat brim. -His flying feet skimmed across the field, and -when they had borne him out of sight down -the nearest slope, Natale flung himself -on the ground under a thicket of thorny -blackberry bushes.</p> - -<p>He lay there for what must have been a -long time, for, after a while, a sudden -shower of rain swept down the valley and -for a few minutes enveloped everything -in a gray mist. Even after it had passed, -Natale delayed returning to the wagon -until the priest should have quite gone, -in despair of capturing his prisoner. When -at last he did venture forth, and crept -to the upper verge of the slope, his first -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span>glance was across the field for the brown -wagon.</p> - -<p>It was not there!</p> - -<p>He set out in a headlong run for the place -where it had stood. There was nothing -left—absolutely nothing. Only a priest -sat quietly waiting in a gap in the wall.</p> - -<p>Natale, with eyes only for the deserted -spot, came stumbling upon the man, without -so much as seeing that he was there, -and then the priest rose, and taking the -boy’s hand, spoke with the utmost quietness.</p> - -<p>“Come home with me now, Natalino,” -was what he said, and Natale heard as one -hears dream voices.</p> - -<p>Poor child! If he had only listened, he -might have heard the dull screeching of the -brakes as the wagon crawled carefully down -the hill toward the arched bridge, and it -would have been an easy matter to snatch -his hand from the limp grasp of the priest -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span>and go hurrying down the short cuts in -pursuit. But his head seemed so full of -a hundred roaring noises that he could not -hear, and his heart beat so fast that he -could not speak, and so up the hill he went -at the priest’s side.</p> - -<p>Nor did he see the quiet smile upon -Luigi’s shaven lips, as they passed the green -gate of the garden where Betty stood peering -through. She would not have spoken to the -boy just then for all the world, and as for -Madame Cioche, she could not have done -so if she had wished. She gazed down from -her latticed window, her bright eyes dimmed -as they fell upon the little caged bird of the -fields fluttering by.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE CAGED BIRD OF THE FIELDS</span></h2></div> - -<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap"><span class="dropcap">T</span>here</span> is a short, crooked street in -Cutigliano, which leads back of the -church and out upon the promenade -of San Vito. This street is confined on -either hand by stone houses and stone walls -of gardens, and paved with large square -stones. Here and there a gateway gives a -peep at lapping hills across the river. The -massive church tower rises directly from a -narrow turn in this street, and when the -bells ring down from the arches in the top -of this tower, the stony street reverberates -with a deafening clamor.</p> - -<p>By the time the priest and Natale reached -the foot of the church tower, the boy was -weeping bitterly but quietly. His one free -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span>arm hid as much of his face as possible, -and his feet in the clumsy new shoes stumbled -so helplessly that Luigi had some -trouble in preventing his falling.</p> - -<p>As they had passed through the town, -where everybody sat at their doors or -lounged in the <i>piazza</i>, all had recognized -the little acrobat, as Natale realized only -too well. Many accosted him in wonder, -and some would even have stopped him to -inquire into his misfortune in being left -behind by his family. But the young -priest motioned such away with authority, -silencing with a gesture of his long finger the -too curious. Others had already learned -how it had come about that Natale was to -spend a year with Sora Grazia, and her son -the priest, and these contented themselves -with shrugs and smiles for the boy’s companion, -as who should say: “We wish you -well of your bargain, Signor priest.”</p> - -<p>The great hands of the church clock -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span>pointed to ten minutes of four, as the bell -boomed the hour of six. No one, however, -ever thought of consulting the huge figures -painted on the stone face of the tower -clock, for those long iron hands had not -stirred for many a day.</p> - -<p>The deep sound of the bell struck so -suddenly upon Natale’s ears that he started, -and dropping his arm from before his eyes, -gazed dully ahead. It was not often that -he had strayed farther than this corner of the -old church, and he had never followed the -San Vito promenade to the end. Most of -the town was left behind now; whither -could this man be taking him?</p> - -<p>A row of houses with numbers in blue -figures on one side of the lintels extended -back of the church, but before none of -these did Luigi pause. Next came a low, -broken wall, and then a house, detached -from its neighbors and with a long, sloping -roof, covered with slabs of slate. This -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span>house had no door opening on the street, -and in the blank front wall there was only -a very small window at one corner close -under the eaves. Over a door in the end of -the house nearest the church there was a -small crucifix in carved stone set into the -wall, but this door was seemingly closed -and unused.</p> - -<p>The priest led Natale a few steps farther, -to the other end of the house, and then they -left the street and entered a long balcony -leading to a wide-open door.</p> - -<p class="p2b">A middle-aged woman sat just inside this -doorway at the foot of a flight of stairs -leading up into the room under the roof. -She wore a kerchief of red and black cotton -over her head and tied in a knot under her -chin, and her eyes were bent upon a coarse -piece of mending occupying her work-worn -hands.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> -<a id="illo2"><img src="images/i_094.jpg" width="350" alt="The priest led Natale to the other end of the house." -title="" /></a></div></div> - -<p class="caption">The priest led Natale to the other end of the house.<br /> -<span class="center"><i>Page <a href="#Page_94">94.</a></i></span></p> - -<p class="p2">At Luigi’s heavy step on the stone flooring -of the balcony, she lifted her face to his and -something like a smile softened the expression -of her stern features. Her black brows -unbent and she made way for her son to -enter by twisting her stool slightly and -shifting her feet. Luigi passed by her and -took up his stand in the gathering gloom of -the little passage, his eyes fixed warily upon -Natale. The little boy had released his -hand from the priest’s outside the door, -and now stood leaning against the railing -of the balcony, staring frowningly at the -woman.</p> - -<p>“You are content to have it over with, -Gigi?” the mother asked, glancing from -man to boy and back again.</p> - -<p>Luigi nodded his head.</p> - -<p>“Give him something to eat and put him -to bed,” he counseled in a low tone, “and -do not argue with him to-night. To-morrow -the sun will shine and he will begin -to forget.”</p> - -<p>Natale’s sharp ears caught every word, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span>stolid as he looked. “Forget?” What did -they think he would forget? Not Olga’s -last words, certainly: “I would run after -the wagon, if I were you.”</p> - -<p>But, <i>why was he not running now</i>? No -door, as yet, kept him prisoner. There was -the empty street. Below ran the long, -long white road. The night was coming -down, and he was not afraid of the dark. -Once out of sight, around one of the loops -of the road, it would take but a moment to -slip off the heavy shoes with their soles half -an inch thick, and then on and on in the -cool darkness he might run on light bare -feet—“after the wagon.”</p> - -<p>He thrilled with the thought as it flashed -through his mind, but a flash of the same -thought thrilled Sora Grazia at the same -time, for just then she leaned forward and -laying her hand on Natale’s arm, she drew -him to her side.</p> - -<p>“Once I had a curly-haired little boy of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span>my own,” she said with a serious smile, -“but after a while, he grew to be a man, and -now he has brought to me another little -boy. Natalino, I hope you will be as good -a boy as my Gigi ever was.”</p> - -<p>Natale gazed earnestly into the woman’s -face.</p> - -<p>“I am not at all good, signora,” he said -unsteadily, and he could not help the stirring -of hope in his heart, with this confession, -but Sora Grazia only smiled again and -tapped his cheek, and said that perhaps the -good Luigi would teach him to be good.</p> - -<p>And there was no more opportunity left -Natale for running away, for he was presently -led into the kitchen where he had to -sit and watch Sora Grazia prepare the -macaroni for supper. He was hungry -enough to enjoy a plateful of this but the -slip of boiled beef served him on a clean -plate afterward could not be choked down. -He had overheard some one in the tent—could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> -it have been only that very day?—say -that he was to have meat every day in -his new home, and his sister, Arduina, had -added that she wished <i>she</i> were sure of -getting a morsel three times a week. Had -not a doctor in Sicily said that she must -have all delicate and nourishing food? And -what were dry bread and sour wine as substitutes? -No, Natale could not eat the -meat that night. Happily the plate of -macaroni had been generous, and what in -all the land of sunny Italy is so filling as a -plate of macaroni?</p> - -<p>The valley looked dismally dark that -night, as Natale crept from his little trestle -bed and crouched on the brick floor at the -window, after he was supposed to be asleep. -He was to share the priest’s attic chamber, -and a few moments before Sora Grazia had -carried away the candle. He peered out -between the flower pots on the window -ledge and again wondered in his childish -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span>way why anybody in the big world outside -should have troubled to make him miserable.</p> - -<p>He was very sure that he had done -nothing to harm the foreign lady with the -spectacles. Once he had laughed when -she had sneezed many times very loudly, -in crossing the field near him, but he was -sure no one had heard him, for he was lying -on the ground and had buried his face in the -grass. The pretty signorina with her had -laughed too, and said something in their -strange language which the lady had answered -by another loud sneeze. Besides this, -there was absolutely nothing he could have -done to provoke any of the people in the -garden. Yet, here he was being punished!</p> - -<p>The thought of Sora Grazia oppressed -him, her serious face and her high hopes of -his goodness. The house, too, was quieter -than any place he had ever known,—he -who had been used to few roofs save those -of the caravan and tent. There were no -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span>children about, and there was no sound -inside of crying, or laughing, or singing, or -whistling. It was almost as bad as having -to live in a solemn church when the candles -are all out and the crowds are gone, and -one feels, in the dimness and silence, as if -something were coming up stealthily behind -one to scare one’s wits away. It is all very -well to rest for a minute in a cool church, -out of the glare of the sunlight, when one -may run out again at will, free as a wild bird -or butterfly. But to have to stay, night -and day, for a whole year in such a place! -Natale shuddered, for this was just the way -in which the awful quiet of the little stone -house of the priest affected him.</p> - -<p>When Luigi came up to bed, hours later, -he lifted the sleeping boy from the bricks -at the window and covered him up snugly -in bed.</p> - -<p>“My mother thinks we can do it,” he -muttered to himself, as he threw off his -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span>black gown. “I shall do my part, but I am -not sure they have done a wise thing.” -Then he sighed a little. Perhaps he was -wishing that he could be a little boy again, -with the wide, wide world before him, and -no one to interfere with his choice of a career,—free -to be acrobat or priest, but always -to have his own choice.</p> - -<p>With the passing of the first night all idea -of running away seemed to have left Natale’s -mind, and Sora Grazia was at first delighted -to find her charge as submissive as -a lamb to all her arrangements. After the -first day or two, however, it became not -quite so comfortable to see the little boy -sit immovable for hours at a time, on the -floor of the balcony, gazing down into the -valley where the river ran merrily over the -rocks. She would even have preferred to -rebuke the child for something a little more -outrageous than his listless torpor. She -herself had to eat the meat prepared for -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span>Natale, if she would not see it wasted, for -Natale could not touch it, nor would Luigi, -her usually tractable son.</p> - -<p>The young priest was no less puzzled over -Natale’s conduct than his mother was. -The schoolmaster reported to him that the -boy held his little paper-covered spelling-book -before his eyes with the utmost diligence, -and really seemed to try to remember -the letters as they were pointed out to him -with patient repetition, but that he might -as well have been gazing off into the valley -instead, for all the good the pages did him, -and Luigi believed it.</p> - -<p>The other boys tried to lure him into their -games and to practice his funny <i>capitomboli</i> -but he would only sit quietly by, on the -stone steps of the church, watching them -till playtime was over, when he must sit up -on the bench in the schoolroom again and -hold his book before his eyes.</p> - -<p>“He cannot keep up his sulking forever,” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span>Sora Grazia said on the sixth day of Natale’s -stay with her. Luigi was standing near her -in the balcony, brushing the dust from the -skirts of his long gown, which he shook -vigorously with his strong hands, as his -mother continued, “I confess that I am -surprised he has taken things so quietly.”</p> - -<p>“A little too quietly!” muttered Luigi -into the folds of his gown.</p> - -<p>“But now, one would like to see him -brighten up a little instead of glooming -over his food and everything else,” Sora -Grazia went on. “He is not the same child -he was a week ago, making his ridiculous -<i>capitomboli</i> over the circus carpet. I wonder -if he could turn a somersault now, -Luigi.” The woman lifted her head from -her work to look over at Natale, who sat -on the low street wall with his feet dangling -into the road.</p> - -<p>“I gave him leave to go and play with -the boys down in the field, this afternoon,” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span>said Luigi, shaking his gown almost -viciously. “He said he did not wish to go -where his tent had been, and that he never -expected to turn a somersault again.”</p> - -<p>“Impertinent!” exclaimed Sora Grazia. -“We’ll let him alone a while longer, and -he’ll come all right. A child cannot sulk -forever, as I said before.”</p> - -<p>“But one can die of starvation and homesickness, -perhaps,” quoth Luigi, stepping -past his mother and springing up the stairs, -his gown upon his arm.</p> - -<p>Grazia’s retort was stayed upon her lips -by what she now saw passing in the street.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE CAGE DOOR OPENED</span></h2></div> - -<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap"><span class="dropcap">N</span>atale</span>, too, was looking up, but -only dully, as a party of ladies and -gentlemen sauntered toward him -laughing and talking gayly as they came. -Many such groups had passed him already, -taking afternoon strolls toward the beautiful -promenade of San Vito leading around the -mountain side. But this particular group -paused, when a spectacled old lady did, and -all gathered about Natale, except the white-haired -gentleman standing a little aloof -and tapping the paving stones with his -stick.</p> - -<p>“Why haven’t you been to see us, Natale -Marzuchetti?” Miss Lorini asked cheerfully<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> -in Italian. “Mrs. Bishop was sure -you would come.”</p> - -<p>“He does not look like the same child!” -whispered Betty to her aunt, who now -pushed forward.</p> - -<p>“Ask him if he is a <i>smart</i> boy in school, -and if he is not <i>glad</i> to be dressed so decently -and to be learning something <i>useful</i>,” -Mrs. Bishop said hurriedly to the -Italian lady, all of which was repeated to -Natale in his own language as was requested. -But Natale only shook his head -slowly and wistfully.</p> - -<p>“You used to talk fast enough!” Mrs. -Bishop cried impatiently. “Look,” she -went on, pointing to the next house, a little -farther on, “don’t you see that white stone -in the wall? The words on it tell about a -man who was born there, two hundred and -fifty years ago, who was so good and useful -that the people here put his name up there -that he might never be forgotten. What’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span>to hinder there being a stone put up on this -house, to tell about little Natale who was -only a poor circus boy, but who came to -live here when he was eight years old and -became a very useful and good man? Tell -him, Miss Lorini, just what I say!” And -Mrs. Bishop pointed from the memorial -tablet in one house to the blank front wall -of the other, while Luigi, peering out of his -window between the flower pots, dodged -behind a tall geranium, and hoped the sharp -eyes of the old lady were not searching for -him.</p> - -<p>Natale listened gravely to Miss Lorini’s -communication, his eyes passing carelessly -from the memorial tablet to the wall of an -opposite house.</p> - -<p>There was a rude painting on this wall of -a Madonna holding a baby in her arms, and -it was protected from the weather by a -shallow arch of masonry. As Natale looked -at the picture, he was reminded in some -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span>mysterious way of Nonna, who was never -without a child in her arms, unless she were -bending over a fountain washing the children’s -clothes. A new look sprang into -his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Our Antonio had <i>his</i> name printed in -Egypt and in Turkey and in Greece!” he -answered proudly, for the first time opening -his lips. “I would rather be like that than -have my name cut here on the priest’s -house!”</p> - -<p>“Good for the little chap,” cried the -gentleman softly. He had understood what -the shrill little voice said.</p> - -<p>“Printed on what, child? What was -‘our Antonio’s’ name printed on, in all -those places?” Miss Lorini asked.</p> - -<p>“On paper, of course,” answered the child -simply. “And there were pictures of him -too, all red and yellow and blue, performing -on the bars. Everybody in the streets -was looking at his name and the pictures.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span>The little fellow’s face was glowing as he -spoke of his friend, and Miss Lorini had not -the heart to translate his words to Mrs. -Bishop, who could hardly have passed them -by calmly.</p> - -<p>“But you are content here?” Betty -managed to ask in intelligible Italian.</p> - -<p>The shadow fell again over Natale’s face, -and his figure visibly drooped. He did -not pretend to answer her question.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Aunty, let him go back to his -people,” Betty pleaded, seeing the change. -“Anybody can see that he is miserable. -He is too little to be made to suffer.”</p> - -<p>“He is too little to suffer long,” Mrs. -Bishop replied calmly, with but one thought -in her mind, of course.</p> - -<p>“Poor little Egyptian!” sighed the gentleman. -“He was born in Egypt, was he not, -Miss Betty?”</p> - -<p>“At Port Said, yes, and Pietro in Tunis -they say.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span></p> -<p>“Well, be a good boy, Natale,” said Mrs. -Bishop, patting his head, in its new cap. -“Then you will be happy. In a few days, -I shall send for you to come to see me, and -we will drink tea in the garden. Good-by! -<i>Addio!</i>”</p> - -<p>Natale touched his hat, as he had long -ago been taught to do, and the pedestrians -moved away, all but the gentleman who -had called him a “little Egyptian.”</p> - -<p>He stood for a moment at Natale’s side, -with his back turned to the house and his -departing friends, and in a trice a handful -of copper coins was transferred from his -pocket to Natale’s hands. Mr. Grantly -had just had a paper note changed into small -coins, at the fruit shop, and he was glad to -relieve his pocket of some of its weight.</p> - -<p>“I hope his guardians will let him keep -the money,” was his thought as he turned -away from Natale’s brilliant smile of thanks. -The boy’s training had made him none too -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span>proud to accept the money of a stranger, -and he lost no time in stowing it away in -his jacket pocket, while Mr. Grantly hurried -after the echoing steps of his party.</p> - -<p>Luigi at the window above had seen the -money given to Natale, but he asked no -questions of the boy, who, after kicking his -heels against the wall for some time longer, -was presently called to his supper.</p> - -<p>There was a flush on Natale’s cheeks and -a brightness in his eyes which even Sora -Grazia noticed, and as the evening was cool, -she thought it wise to forbid his sitting -out on the balcony or the wall, as was his -wont, until bedtime. He looked feverish, -she said, and in her own mind she planned -a cup of hot camomile tea as a remedy at -bedtime. Natale’s disappointment at this -command to keep indoors showed so plainly -upon his childish features that Sora Grazia -was provoked, and for the first time since the -boy had been with her she used harsh tones.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span></p> - -<p>“There! you may as well go to bed at -once!” she cried, as he was leaving the -kitchen, without a word it is true, but with -the light all gone from his face. “I can -never please you, whatever I do, and you -are here only to waste food and sulk. Go -to bed, Natale!”</p> - -<p>Luigi had gone off directly after eating his -supper, about some matter of business with -one of his superiors at the church, so he was -not there to take Natale’s part.</p> - -<p>It is hard enough to be sent to bed on an -ordinary night and at one’s regular time, as -any child will agree, but to be forbidden the -early hours of a moonlit evening outdoors, -especially when one’s little head is teeming -with wild, delicious ideas of flight—away -from daily baths, from the cramping walls -of a house, and out into the freshness and -freedom of the night, which has no terror -for the dwellers in tents, was well-nigh -unbearable.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p> - -<p>Ah! how little Sora Grazia knew of the -anguish she was causing!</p> - -<p>But Natale obediently stumbled slowly -upstairs in the dark to the bedroom, and -when there, crouched in his usual place on -the floor behind the flower pots without an -audible murmur.</p> - -<p>The little acrobat had made no plans at -all, but with the touch of the money given -him by the kind old gentleman on San Vito, -an impulse to seek his freedom had occurred -to his mind, and in the half-hour while he -continued on the wall, furtively handling -the coins in his pocket, he had wished,—only -wished, however,—that he might -have the courage to steal out into the moonlight, -after eating, while Sora Grazia should -be about her dish-washing, and Luigi poring -over one of his little black books, perhaps, by -the light of the candle in the kitchen. He -had often thought of Olga’s words, “I would -run after the wagon, if I were you,” but he -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span>had been too closely watched during the -first day or two to admit of his carrying out -so bold a plan, and since then, for the rest of -the long, dreary week since the caravan had -gone, he had not had the spirit to undertake -such a measure. The whole world seemed -to intervene between himself and the beloved -company who had gone, and he felt -sure that he would be seen by some mistaken -person and brought back, even before he -could reach the river, if he should attempt -to follow.</p> - -<p>Until to-night no thought of leaving under -the protection of the friendly darkness had -come to him, and he had only been able to -see himself flying down the sunny road in -full view of all the village, to be promptly -turned back again by some carriage driver -of the place, or some schoolboy bigger than -himself and therefore stronger. Besides, -he had had no money, and Natale had -traveled enough to know that a few cents -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span>in one’s pocket make one’s road easier and -less long. So the days had passed, and -Natale was fast drifting into a state of listless -torpor which must have ended in illness, -had not Mr. Grantly changed a five-franc -note at the fruit shop that sunny afternoon -and taken a stroll along San Vito where -Natale sat “sulking” on the wall!</p> - -<p>Presently, as the little child continued to -gaze longingly out into the moonlight, a ray -of further hope illumined his mind. As -Luigi had gone to the church now, it would -be late before he would return. Sora -Grazia always sat dozing on her stool in the -doorway until time for barring the door and -going to bed. Why should he not slip past -her and away into the shadows of the street, -before Luigi should return? His heart -leaped at the thought, and he rose noiselessly -to his feet and glanced around the -darkening room. His small cot stood -smooth and white against the wall. Another<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> -thought struck him, and he quailed -with a sense of utter discouragement. -When Luigi should come in,—and he -might be very early, one never knew,—the -runaway would be missed straightway from -the empty little bed, and easily overtaken -if he should have taken the regular road -down the hill.</p> - -<p>It is true there were paths innumerable -down the terraces from the back of almost -any house in the street, most of them -probably leading down to the river far -below, but Natale had been no explorer of -the neighborhood during his week of captivity, -and was ignorant of the precipitate -windings and the final ending of even the -most practicable of these. No, he must go -by the road, and he must wait until Luigi -should return, and get to bed and to sleep.</p> - -<p>Natale knew that the priest slept soundly, -for, one night he had had the misfortune to -knock over upon the floor a pot containing -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span>a carnation plant, and the crash had not -awakened Luigi. The boy had waked and -had gone to the window to peer out into the -night, fancying that he heard the hoarse -creaking of the caravan brake as the clumsy -vehicle crawled down the hill, and in craning -his head between the pots, his elbow had -pushed over one of them. Fortunately, -neither pot nor plant had broken, and he -had spent a good deal of time in packing the -loosened earth about the carnation’s roots -and replacing the pot among its fellows. -The next morning, Sora Grazia had bidden -him be more careful about carrying mud -upstairs on his shoes, only to be cleaned up -by her afterward, and he supposed he must -have left some of the earth upon the floor, -in the dim light.</p> - -<p>At any rate, Luigi slept soundly, and if -he, himself, could only manage to keep -awake until all was safe, he knew that he -would have no difficulty in unbarring the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span>door. He had accomplished it unaided -only that morning, with Sora Grazia standing -by and saying that it was the first thing -of use he had set his hands to do since coming -there to live. She had spoken good-naturedly -though, and Natale had nothing -against her. No, not even now did he -remember her late harsh words, for he was -too sweet-natured to harbor malice. He had -only suffered, and now there was a prospect -of escaping more suffering of the same kind.</p> - -<p>So after sitting on his bed with a wild -turmoil of thoughts engaging his busy little -brain, he began rapidly to undress. Luigi -must not find him up! But, after taking -off the strong new suit of clothes which -Mrs. Bishop had had made for him, he -rummaged under his mattress where his -old things had been stored by Sora Grazia -and quickly got into the worn trousers, the -faded blouse and leggings, tucking the old -shoes under his pillow. He had set the new -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span>shoes and stockings in orderly fashion on the -floor and folded up the new clothes and laid -them at the foot of the little cot. How -fortunate that his old shoes had not been -thrown away, for he could hardly have -traveled barefoot over the flinty stones of -the road and the river. Natale chose to -wear the old easy shoes, for the new ones -had always hurt him, and he would not have -been able to steal unheard out of the house -with those heavy, creaking soles tramping -over the bricks. If he had known of the -long way ahead of the old worn shoes, perhaps -he would have planned to carry the -despised footgear in his hands. But forethought -had little place in the mind of so -young a runaway, and he was guided in his -change of clothes only by his own desires for -comfort. The old clothes were as familiar as -old friends, and therefore he preferred them.</p> - -<p>Then, after making his preparations, not -forgetting to change the money from the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span>pocket of the new jacket to that of his old -trousers, he laid himself down on the cot, -and drew up the light covering snugly about -his shoulders, devoutly hoping that he -would not fall soundly asleep.</p> - -<p>If Natale had only known it, Sora Grazia, -believing Natale safe for the night, had -slipped off for a gossip with a friend living -just back of the church, simply drawing the -door to behind her and leaving the coast -clear for flight. And it would not have been -difficult for the boy to leave a semblance of -himself tucked under the bed covering, in -the shape of the roll of discarded clothes and -shoes! But little Natale was not possessed -of a very designing brain, and after all, Luigi -<i>might</i> have come in untimely, and spoiled -it all!</p> - -<p>In a few moments, the would-be runaway -was fast asleep, while the moon sailed across -the valley from the eastern toward the -western sky.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE FLIGHT OF THE BIRD</span></h2></div> - -<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap"><span class="dropcap">W</span>hen</span> Natale next opened his -eyes he became very wide -awake indeed, in an instant. -In fact, he did not know that he had been -asleep at all, until the moonlight, slanting -in, showed Luigi’s long body stretched upon -the iron bed close by.</p> - -<p>What could have waked Natale? For a -moment he lay still without recollection of -the momentous plans made at his early bedtime. -Then he recalled a sensation of icy -cold water about his feet, and he remembered -that he had dreamed of a sudden -plunge into the river while trying to find the -stepping-stones. It must have been the -chill of the dream-water that had awakened -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span>him! He sat up and found that he was -still dressed and in his old clothes.</p> - -<p>Ah! it was easy to remember all now, -and after a breathless glance over his -shoulder at Luigi, who was comfortably -snoring, Natale slipped out of bed. Catching -up his old hat and his shoes he stole -softly over the brick floor and down the -stone stairs as quietly as any mouse would -have done.</p> - -<p>Sora Grazia slept downstairs, but the -door of her room was mercifully closed, and -Natale knew that she often locked it at -night. He turned his back upon it, therefore, -with confidence, as he felt in the darkness -for the balcony door. He exerted all -his strength to raise the heavy bar of iron -which guarded the door. Then he was very -careful to keep his hold on the bar, as it -swung downward, lest it should rouse the -house with its usual clanging fall. The huge -key was in the lock, and Natale succeeded -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span>in turning it with both hands, although this -was much more difficult than raising the bar -above the lock. It creaked dully as it -turned, and Natale’s heart leaped into his -throat, and a dozen noises buzzed in his -ears.</p> - -<p>Breathless, he stood with his hand on the -latch, afraid to move lest the door behind -him should open, and everything come to an -end. But nothing happened, so he swung -open the door, and without stopping to -close it behind him, he again caught up his -shoes, which he had had to set down, and -ran along the balcony and out into the -street, his feet pattering softly on the -stones.</p> - -<p>In his haste he did not stop to think of the -direction he should take. His only impulse -was to get out into the night somewhere, -away from the houses and street. -So he ran swiftly along in the shadow cast -by wall and house, in just the opposite -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span>direction from that which would have led -him past the church tower and through the -village, out upon the downward road. -Presently he crouched in a shadow to draw -on his shoes, then fled onward again.</p> - -<p>Once away, he lost his bearings utterly and -hurried on without turning, past the small -house with the Madonna painted on the -wall, past the large house where the white -tablet to “Pietro Pacioni” gleamed in the -moonlight, and then downward, by a -roughly paved path leading to the Campo -Santo. Perhaps he would have kept on -aimlessly along San Vito,—the fashionable -promenade leading always higher along the -mountain side till it ended in an open -plateau high up above the valley,—if he -had not heard steps approaching. Whether -these steps came from behind or from ahead -he did not stop to discover. The downward -path offered safety, and a small pink villa -threw a dark shadow across its entrance, so -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span>Natale lost not an instant in scudding down -the friendly by-way.</p> - -<p>On he trotted, past the shrine where the -tiny Della Robbia Madonna sits under her -arch, the moonlight touching the shining -blue of her hood, the yellow of her robe and -the pink of the baby on her knees with a -radiance that was almost startling on the -edge of the shadow. Now the path grew -level, and the stones were left behind, and -no more noise of footsteps disturbed the -quiet.</p> - -<p>A few rods more, and Natale stood in -front of the small mortuary chapel outside -the cemetery. The iron gates set in the -wall of the cemetery were locked, as Natale -found on gently shaking them. He had -paused to peep through the slender grating -into the inclosure where the moonlight -touched the white tomb of the foreign -gentleman buried close under the wall, and -showed so plainly the numbers on the low -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span>stakes marking the graves of the nameless -poor. The shadows of the cypress trees lay -like long black fingers outstretched upon the -wilds of weedy undergrowth, and the wind -stirred dismally on the exposed hillside.</p> - -<p>One day, Natale and Olga had wandered -together as far as these iron gates. He -remembered it now, and with the recollection -he sprang away, eager to continue his -journey,—then stood still, uncertain as to -his path.</p> - -<p>The way which had brought him downward -came to an abrupt end with the little -chapel, outside the gates. It would not do -to lose himself among the chestnut woods in -search of a path! Yet, how could he plunge -down the pathless slopes among the great -trees, with nothing to guide him but the -murmur of the river far below? Still less -was he willing to return to the road above -and turn about to take his way through the -village and so on out upon the road. He -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span>was almost sure that if he could only see to -find his way, some downward path from -where he stood would bring him to a river -crossing, perhaps a long, long way below the -arched bridge, and therefore much farther -on his journey.</p> - -<p>Bewildered and tired, he was almost -ready to give up his flight, and to creep into -the dark portico of the little chapel, and -back into the shade beneath the picture of -the Saint with the skull in his hand, and -there end this strange night, which already -seemed to him longer than any night he had -ever known. But he roused himself to one -more effort, and crept around to the back -wall of the chapel. There, to his joyful -surprise, he came upon a semblance of a -path!</p> - -<p>All indecision was gone now, and he fairly -slid down the rocky and precipitous way, -which was more gully than footway, being -in fact a watercourse for the torrents leaping -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span>down the mountain side, after some storm -of rain, as well as a short cut to the river for -roughly shod peasant feet.</p> - -<p>More than once Natale stumbled, and -once he fell headlong, bruising his hands and -knees, but he did not mind, for the rushing -of the little river down among the rocks was -becoming very loud in his ears.</p> - -<p>When at last he came out of the woods, -and stood on the edge of the waste of -rounded stones loosely paving the river bed, -he looked back a moment to where the -village must be, high above, a huddle of gray -wall and roof, with the square church tower -in its midst. All seemed as silent in the -sleeping town as in the home of the sleeping -dead on its outskirts. Then, just as Natale -again turned his back upon the mountain -side, where perched Cutigliano like a bit of -gray lichen growing on some mossy bowlder, -the beautiful, bright, friendly moon slipped -quite over the mountain in the west, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span>darkness fell upon the valley, where deep -down in its darkest shadow Natale was -ready to cross the river. The light of the -moon still touched the chestnut woods -higher up the slopes, but every moment the -shadow would be creeping higher and -higher, until there would be no more moonlight -on this side the mountain, and only the -stars would come peeping out at Natale.</p> - -<p>After slipping off his shoes and leggings, -the boy began picking his way carefully over -the large dry stones which were worn -smooth and round by slow wasting in the -wet seasons, when the river flooded its -narrow course and spread to the grassy -banks. The stones rolled under even his -light footsteps, but Natale kept his balance -in crossing the smaller stones, and clambered -patiently over or around the largest ones, -and presently arrived at the edge of the -black, rushing water. The brawling Lima -makes a great ado hereabouts, as it tumbles -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span>over the rocks, for its bed slopes decidedly -all the way to Lucca and beyond, and there -is no opportunity for it to moderate its -pace, or calm its chafings against the rocks.</p> - -<p>With the first touch of the icy water upon -his bared feet, Natale recalled his dream. -How long ago it had been since he had lain -safely in his bed under the slanting roof of -Luigi’s house! Again and again he tried -to plant his foot firmly in the midst of the -swirling water, which was perhaps as much -as twenty feet wide at that point, but -always it was deeper and colder than he had -expected, and the stones more slippery and -unsteady. Then he began wandering up and -down the bank, in quest of the stepping-stones, -which here and there certainly -crossed the river both above and below the -arched bridge. Unsuccessful in this, Natale -finally exerted himself to make a reckless -dash into the current, where he found himself -the next instant up to his waist in the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span>black water and clinging desperately by -one free hand to a wet rock, with the instinct -of preserving himself from being -carried off his feet. Then miserably he felt -his way back to the dry rocks on the edge -of the stream, and dropping down upon -their harsh bosom, he began to cry bitterly.</p> - -<p>He had so hoped there would be a crossing -place! If he could only find it! His -feet were sore with bruises now, and he felt -as if he could not walk another step. He -grew cold as he crouched there, sobbing with -disappointment, for though the sun shines -hot during the daytime on the chestnut -trees and the vines of the Apennines, the -nights, even of summer, are cool, and now -a chill wind came sweeping down the valley -from the fir-crowned summits of Abetone.</p> - -<p>Presently the little wanderer roused himself -and stood on his feet. Nothing could -tempt him to try to find his way back to the -house of the priest, not even aching feet or -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span>shivering limbs, but he began to think there -might be a more sheltered place near by—this -little boy of the road, who had taken -many a noontide nap curled up at the foot of -some wayside tree. Perhaps the earliest light -of dawn would show him the stepping-stones -and the road, of which there was no hint -now in the blackness of darkness across the -river. Painfully he crept back toward the -bank, where presently he curled himself into -a knot at the foot of a huge, distorted old -chestnut tree, a short distance up the slope. -The grass was soft and springy about the -roots of the old tree, and a huge boulder near -by shut off the wind from Natale’s shivering -legs. So, with a sigh of content, and for -the first time tasting the sweets of his new -freedom, the little acrobat closed his eyes -upon the stars winking down at him from -above the stirring leaves, and fell asleep for -the second time that night.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br /> -<span class="no-indent">ON THE WING</span></h2></div> - -<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap"><span class="dropcap">L</span>ong</span> before Natale waked, the day had -dawned, but the sun had not long -looked down into the valley before -he turned stiffly on his grassy couch and -rubbed his eyes. Then, however, he lost not -an instant in taking up his journey where it -had left off the night before.</p> - -<p>How easy it was in the light of the sunbeams -of the early morning to spring over -the dry stones of the bank, and with a swift -glance up and down select a safe place to -cross the water which had seemed so dangerous -and cruel in the dark.</p> - -<p>The daylight changed everything, of -course, and it was but a few moments after -waking before he was across the stream and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span>scrambling up to the low wall bounding the -road on the river side. From the inner -edge of the road the mountains rose precipitately.</p> - -<p>As Natale clambered over the wall the -church bells of Cutigliano burst into a -wrangle of sound, which must have echoed -from one end of the village to the other. -Though the distance softened the metallic -tones, the little boy was startled by them -into a scamper away down the sunlit road -as if the mischievous village boys whose -office it was to ring the bells were in headlong -chase after him. The day must have -been the <i>festa</i> of some saint, and for a long -time Natale heard the bells’ voices, sweetened -more and more as his bare feet trudged -onward and the distance fell between him -and them. But he soon gave up his running -because his legs were stiff and his feet sore, -and as yet no one appeared coming along -the road behind him, in pursuit.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span></p> - -<p>There had been no doubt in his own mind -of the direction he should take after once -gaining the road. He knew that Giovanni -and Antonio with the house-wagon had been -bound for the Bagni di Lucca, and also he -knew that the road to the Bagni led downward -with the stream, and not up toward -the cold region of Abetone, the “Great Fir -Tree.”</p> - -<p>So all he had to do was to follow the road, -broad and white, by the way they had come -three weeks before, without need, even, of -asking his way of the peasants he should -meet. He had turned the shoulder of a great -green mountain-spur which entirely shut -off the view of Cutigliano before he would -stop for an instant in his lame tramping. -Once assured that the town was out of sight -behind him, he sat down breathlessly on -one of the heaps of loose stones such as flank -every mountain road in Italy. Then he -deliberately took each foot in turn in his -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span>small hands and gravely and pitifully -examined its bruises. There was nothing -to be done, then, but plant them in the road -again and continue his way.</p> - -<p>For an hour or more he trudged painfully -on, but the stiffness in his legs left him after -a while, and he began to be only hungry. -He wished he had thought of hiding in his -pocket, the night before, a crust of the dark, -coarse bread he loved, and which had always -been plentiful at Sora Grazia’s. But -the coppers jingled comfortably there instead, -and Natale contented himself to -wait for breakfast till he should pass some -bread shop along the road.</p> - -<p>The morning air was sweet with the freshness -of early day, and the delicious odor of -the wild thyme’s tiny blossoms. Tall harebells -nodded to him from the thyme and -heather bank shoulder-high above the road, -and sparkled with the sunshine and dew -upon their purple flowerets. The river, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span>which in the darkness had seemed to mock -him with its roaring, now only murmured -softly as it slipped over the stones in the -sunlight.</p> - -<p>By and by, Natale began to meet people -in the road, men with donkeys bearing huge -basketfuls of wet grass and wild flowers -shorn from the steep terraces above for the -cow or donkey at home, and women tramping -in their thick-soled shoes to Cutigliano -with baskets of fresh fruit or eggs or cheeses -for the summer hotels balanced on their -heads. From all of these Natale kept his face -steadily averted, lest they should bear back -to the town tidings of his going. Usually, -after passing a group of these wayfarers, the -boy broke into a quick run in order to -lengthen the distance between them and -himself, but these spurts of speed availed -him little, for he had always to stop and rest -afterward, and so lost many more minutes -than he had gained of the golden day.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span></p> - -<p>The road had already become a curving -white glare before Natale came in sight of a -long stone house having many windows and -doors, and standing on the inner edge of the -road. He came upon it suddenly, on turning -a sharp curve, and then he saw that -another house faced it on the opposite side -of the road, and that an inviting shade lay -between. The back of one of the houses -looked directly upon the steep slope of the -mountain behind, while the rear wall of its -opposite neighbor had its foundation in the -rocky banks of the tumbling river. In the -shade between, barefoot peasant children -played noisily. Near by, a stream of spring -water, clear and cold, trickled from a -wooden trough into a rough stone basin.</p> - -<p>And here at last were rest and food and -drink for the runaway,—only no one must -learn that he was a runaway!</p> - -<p>A fat and black-eyed housewife with arms -akimbo stood in one of the doors, and as -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span>Natale came up to her on limping feet, she -eyed him with interest from the stone of the -doorstep.</p> - -<p>“Will you give me a little piece of bread, -signora? See, I have money,” said Natale, -showing her a handful of Mr. Grantly’s -copper coins in his open palm.</p> - -<p>“A bit of bread you shall have, to be sure, -and your <i>soldi</i> you shall keep, little one,” -the good-natured creature promptly answered, -and while the children left their -play and gathered about Natale, with -friendly eyes, their mother disappeared into -the very small and dusky shop behind.</p> - -<p>“There, sit down and eat,” she said, -returning with a hunk of bread and a -generous lump of cheese on a coarse plate -in her hand.</p> - -<p>As Natale received the plate and moved -rather lamely toward the dripping fountain -in the shade, the children ran ahead, and -one filled a rusty tin cup with the cold -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span>water and had it ready for Natale by the -time he reached the mossy brink of the -fountain.</p> - -<p>These little ones of the road, wild and rude -enough in their play, were well used to offering -the “cup of cold water” to the passing -wayfarer, and Natale’s thirsty throat gulped -the draught gratefully.</p> - -<p>There was something about the child -which arrested the attention of the woman -more than the ordinary passer-by often did, -and she also stood watching Natale breakfast -hungrily.</p> - -<p>He was shy and downcast, fearing difficult -questions, and as soon as the last -crumb of bread and cheese had disappeared -he got to his feet, setting the empty plate -on the margin of the fountain.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, signora, and good-by,” he -said, and was off.</p> - -<p>“No, but wait!” she cried, laying her -hand on his shrinking shoulder. “You -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span>have eaten my bread; now answer my -questions. What is your name, <i>picino</i>,<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> -and where are you going?”</p> - -<p>“Down the road,” was the shyly spoken -answer to the last question, with a quiet -waiving of the first. “Please let me go, -signora. It is already late, and I must -hasten.”</p> - -<p>“Well, go!” she exclaimed then, “and a -good journey to you!” But she stood -watching him trudge briskly away from her -until another curve in the zigzag road hid -him from her sight.</p> - -<p>“Some stranger’s child!” she muttered to -herself, going back to the doorstep. “I -have never seen him pass here before, and -few there be who pass by without the -knowledge of Chiara. Well, I am glad he -has his <i>soldi</i> safe in his pocket. May the -saints protect and feed my own children -when they go a-wandering! You, Beppo! -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span>keep your head out of the dust of the -road!”</p> - -<p>“Mamá, mamá, Beppino is making <i>capitomboli</i>, -such as the boy who was here just now -made in the circus at Cutigliano, on the day -we went with our father to the big tent! Do -you not remember?” cried an admiring small -sister of Beppo. “See, our Beppo does them -even better than the other boy, mamá!”</p> - -<p>The woman gave a little start of recollection, -and then dismissed the idea which -had occurred to her, as impossible—fortunately, -perhaps, for Natale.</p> - -<p class="p2b">“Silly girl! The circus people went down -the road a week ago to the Bagni, do <i>you</i> not -remember? How should the boy be seven -days behind? No more <i>capitomboli</i>, I say, -Beppo <i>mio</i>, in all this dust!”</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> -<a id="illo3"><img src="images/i_142.jpg" width="350" alt="“Capitomboli, such as the boy who was here just now made in the -circus at Cutigliano.”" -title="" /></a></div></div> - -<p class="caption">“Capitomboli, such as the boy who was here just now made in the -circus at Cutigliano.”<br /> -<span class="center"><i>Page <a href="#Page_142">142.</a></i></span></p> - -<p class="p2">In a carriage, with two good horses and a -fine cracking whip behind them, one may -drive from Cutigliano down to the Baths of -Lucca in the first half of a summer’s day. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span>On two tired slim little legs, one would need -much more time to accomplish the journey. -Also when one has been for six days imprisoned -within stone walls, one does not -hurry—if fairly out of danger—along -beauteous and fresh-smelling paths of freedom.</p> - -<p>Every hour or so after leaving the woman -and children at the fountain, Natale stopped -for a rest along the way. Sometimes he sat -down on a heap of mending stones by the -wayside, in company with some stone-breaker -hammering away in the shade of -his sun screen, a rude lattice of chestnut -boughs propped behind the heap of stones.</p> - -<p>The monotonous clink of the hammer -breaking the sharp-edged stones was usually -stayed as the lonely worker turned to chat -with the large-eyed child hovering near. -Only once or twice was Natale’s cheerful -“<i>Buon’ giorno!</i>”<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> returned by an unwelcoming<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> -growl or by sour silence. In such cases, -the dawdling feet made all haste to pass and -seek a resting-place in the shade of some -breeze-rustled chestnut tree quite out of -sight of the cross stone-breaker.</p> - -<p>The second night was passed as the first -had been, out of doors, after a supper of hot -rice paid for at an <i>osteria</i>,<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> a short way -back along the road. Natale might have -slept, as well, at the little inn, but he was -too unused to roofs to dream of proposing -it, and the absent-minded old landlord had -not seemed to be thinking of anything but -puffing away at his pipe, as Natale slipped -past him and out of the dingy passage-way, -after paying for his food.</p> - -<p>A long-bodied two-wheeled cart stood -outside the inn door, its shafts’ ends resting -on the ground, its rear high in air, and -Natale, with an instinct for sleeping above -wheels, had decided to return to the cart -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span>for a night’s lodging place when the world -should be dark again. But sleep overtook -him as he lay waiting at the foot -of a tree to which he had scrambled from -the road below, and when he roused, -dawn was staining the pale sky with -rose color.</p> - -<p>The next day promised to pass as the -first had done,—with slipping shyly past -occasional houses of entertainment along -the way, with lingerings to stare into the -mysterious depths of some noisy mill in -league with the tumbling river, and with -long, monotonous trampings, between times, -along the smooth road, bordered always by -the mountains and the river. As the road -neared the valley, it crossed dashing streams -hurrying to join their waters to the broader -water of the river, and so solid was the stone -masonry of the arches that one would never -have known that he was crossing a bridge -but for the sparkle and the laughter of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span>foaming water as it dashed under the road -and out again.</p> - -<p>Many times Natale, himself a small dark -speck on the endless white road, looked up -the long mountain slopes, green in the sunlight, -purple in the shadow, and glimpsed -high above him on the giddy heights the -climbing roofs of some hoary old mountain -town, away out of hearing of the busy -river, out of reach of traveling circus wagons, -and which,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Like an eagle’s nest hangs on the crest</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of purple Apennine.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It was past noon of the second day when -Natale entered a village on a level with the -highway. Here the road suddenly changed -into a stone-paved street, running between -high houses and echoing with the tramp of -wooden-soled shoes and the patter of donkeys’ -hoofs.</p> - -<p>He stopped at the door of a sour-smelling -wine shop where sat a man on a stool outside<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> -the door. To him the little boy put -his question as to whether this town might -perhaps be very near to the Bagni di Lucca. -This man wore a red fez on his bushy, black -head, and down his long, black beard trickled -drops from the wine cup at his lips. The -fellow did not stop his drinking long enough -to reply in so many words to the question, -but a decided shaking of his head and the -pointing of a long, dirty finger onward sufficiently -enlightened Natale, and he kept -slowly on his way.</p> - -<p>In passing a small baker’s shop, he -stopped and bought a great ring of sweetish -bread, and then slipping his arm through -this, he went more cheerily onward. There -were still many <i>soldi</i> left in his pocket, and -surely this beautiful ring of bread would last -until the Bagni di Lucca should come in -sight, with, of course, the dear yellow tent -set in its midst!</p> - -<p>One of the last houses he passed as he left -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span>the town was entered through a garden by -a huge wooden door opening upon the -cobblestones of the street. This door -stood ajar, and Natale stayed his steps for -a moment to gaze through the aperture -down a charming vista of trellised vines -supported on crumbling white columns of -masonry. Green and gold lights played -over the rough paving-stones of the cloister-like -colonnade through the latticework -above. Halfway down this corridor, two -or three girls romped and sang together, -their scarlet kerchiefs and the rich blues of -their skirts making dashes of vivid color in -the shade where they lounged. Pale jewels -of grapes, already growing pink and amethystine, -crowded the vines with promise of -luscious sweetness when their full time -should come.</p> - -<p>The girls peered back at the travel-worn -lad peering in at them, but when the largest -of them called mockingly to him, “Enter, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span>signore!” Natale ran away down the street -and again out upon the road. The girls -had made him think of Arduina and Olga -and little Maria, and away down at the end -of the corridor he had caught a glimpse of -a gray-haired woman sitting on a flight of -broken stone steps, with an infant on her -lap. His heart swelled with homesickness. -If only he might see Nonna once again! -How long was the monotonous road to -Bagni di Lucca!</p> - -<p>The day, however, was not to close without -an exciting and important event.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br /> -<span class="smaller">FLUTTERING A LITTLE FARTHER</span></h2></div> - -<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap"><span class="dropcap">N</span>atale</span> sat down in his leisurely -fashion on the low wall bounding -the road just beyond the town and -began daintily nibbling around the crisp, -sugared edges of his bread ring. It was -mid-afternoon, and while his jaws worked -steadily, his wide bright eyes watched with -interest two bicyclists toiling up the hill and -trundling their wheels alongside. As they -passed him by without a glance, their faces -red and perspiring, and their shoes whitened -with the light dust, the boy’s eyes still followed -them and lighted upon a queer figure -coming from the town he had just quitted. -It was the red-capped, swarthy-faced man -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span>of the wine-shop door, and now his shoulders -were bent under a pack slung on his back, -and his legs were bowed as he limped along, -and he wore an old overcoat much too long, -which had seen better days upon another’s -shoulders.</p> - -<p>The wheelmen paid no attention to this -fellow, as he stopped on meeting them and -perhaps offered them a sight of his wares -hidden in the pack, so the peddler presently -came up with Natale, grumbling sourly.</p> - -<p>“These foreigners without manners!” he -growled, planting himself in front of the -little boy’s swinging legs. “Ah! you are -the boy who goes to the Bagni. Come, I -also go thither. We shall be companions -merry enough!”</p> - -<p>Natale had no fancy for joining company -with this man who frowned with his black -brows and grinned, in turn, with big white -teeth gleaming in his hairy face, but neither -had he the courage to demur. Therefore, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span>he slipped down unwillingly from his perch -and trotted along at the peddler’s side.</p> - -<p>Fortunately, the man asked no questions -and spoke little, and before evening, his -steady tramp had led Natale over more -miles than the whole previous day had -carried him. Little cared this strange, -silent fellow for leaning over walls to gaze -at the foaming water singing over the rocks, -or for idly resting on a bridge to watch the -white cloud-ships crossing the azure sea -overhead, as the white sails of the orange -boats ply the blue waves between Sicily -and the Italian coast, and to dream of -future glory as an acrobat of renown!</p> - -<p>The sun had again sunk behind the -rounded summits in the west, when the -peddler at last stood still and grinned down -upon the panting child.</p> - -<p>“One easily sees that you are no traveler,” -he said in his hoarse, unpleasant voice. -“Now we will sit down here by the roadside -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span>and make our beds for the night. Did you -mention supper? The bracelet you wear -on your arm will suffice for us both, if we -divide it according to the size of our -stomachs. <i>Ecco!</i>” And Natale’s precious -ring of sweetened bread was rudely snatched -from his arm.</p> - -<p>Naturally, Natale was most indignant at -being treated in this manner by so perfect -a stranger, and he did not hesitate to remonstrate.</p> - -<p>“But the bread is mine, signore! I -bought it with my own <i>soldi</i> in the town,” -he cried, clutching at the beautiful ring of -bread, already being broken in two by the -peddler’s dirty fingers.</p> - -<p>“<i>Soldi!</i>” echoed the man; “and where -are your precious <i>soldi</i>?”</p> - -<p>“At the shop where I bought the bread, -of course,” was the shrewd reply, and not -a coin remaining in Natale’s pocket jostled -against its neighbor now. They kept as -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span>quiet as if they knew that long, eager fingers -were ready to pounce upon them.</p> - -<p>Then a change came over the peddler’s -manner, and he showed his unpleasant-looking -teeth in a broad smile. Perhaps -he was planning a look into those little -pockets by and by, who knows?</p> - -<p>“What a clever boy you are!” he cried. -“Well, as you are also such a hungry little -beast, take back your bread, and for a -relish I shall give you a smell of my own -supper. See!”</p> - -<p>So speaking, he drew a roll of sausage -from a pocket of his long coat. The sausage -was wrapped in a soiled handkerchief, and -there was a hunk of black bread with it. -A knife with a curious curved handle and -long, shining blade was next produced, and -the peddler went to work, alternately whacking -off bits of the highly seasoned meat -and the hard bread, and devouring them -with crunching teeth and smacking lips.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span></p> -<p>Natale gnawed industriously at his own -bread without even thinking of offering to -barter a portion of it for a taste of the savory -sausage. There was a kind of fascination -in watching the ugly fellow eat, and the -wondering brown eyes were fixed upon the -peddler’s surly face.</p> - -<p>It was now the close of a warm afternoon. -A light haze wrapped the more distant -mountains in misty blue, a chirring of -insects stirred the silence about the travelers, -and now and then a carriage or cart whisked -downward, or toiled upward, along the road, -accompanied by the jingle of harness bells -and the whooping cries of the drivers. A -fog of white dust rose behind every passing -vehicle, and the chestnut leaves overhead, -long unwashed by rain, hung grimy and -listless in the heavy air.</p> - -<p>As the peddler supped, large drops of -sweat gathered on his long, red nose and -dripped down his black beard, while his -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span>face grew flushed and more scowling than -ever. Presently, with an angry movement -which startled Natale half out of his wits, -he dropped the sausage and knife to the -ground and tore off his coat.</p> - -<p>“Poor men have no choice!” he muttered. -“Bare shoulders in winter, the cast-off -winter coat of an Englishman in summer!”</p> - -<p>The soiled and tattered old coat was -tossed aside, falling uncomfortably close to -Natale’s feet, but he did not dare to push it -away with disdainful touch. The peddler’s -meal now came to an end, the remains of the -sausage were gathered up with the cruel-looking -knife and laid aside with the handkerchief, -after which the peddler, with a -satisfied grunt, sprawled himself on his -side—to sleep, as Natale devoutly hoped.</p> - -<p>But not quite yet was the man ready for -sleep. Reaching for his pack, with a lazy -movement from where he lay, he unstrapped -it and drew from among the coarse -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span>laces and horn buttons inside a flat bottle, -which he uncorked and turned up to his -lips. As the liquor gurgled down his throat -and its strong odor tainted the air, Natale -let his eyes fall to the uncomely garment -lying within touch of his fingers.</p> - -<p>Then the boy’s heart leaped into his -throat, and it seemed as if he would suffocate -where he sat. He dared not move, and -bravely he looked away from the thing -which lay within such easy reach of his longing -hands, half-in, half-out of the fellow’s -old coat pocket.</p> - -<p>If only the peddling thief would go off -into a drunken sleep!</p> - -<p>For there, close by, lay Giovanni’s old -pocketbook of stamped Spanish leather, -stained and battered, as Natale had always -known it!</p> - -<p>Who could tell whether any money still -remained in it? There was nothing to do -but wait till the man should go to sleep, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span>then, stealthily drawing the pocketbook -away from the overcoat, speed down the -road to a safe distance and find out all -about it.</p> - -<p>He had not long to wait before the peddler -returned the bottle to the pack, and then, -disposing himself on the ground, sank into -an open-mouthed slumber.</p> - -<p>Only when quite sure that the sleep was -real did Natale steal away on noiseless feet, -prize in hand, across the shallow ditch bordering -the road, and onward to the shelter -of a ruined shed quite out of sight of their -resting-place. Putting the shed between -him and the road, Natale unstrapped the -pocketbook with trembling eagerness.</p> - -<p>There lay the notes into which Giovanni -had from time to time changed the cumbersome -copper soldi of their earnings! There -were the dingy blue five-franc notes, with -many one and two-franc notes of a most -uncompromising dirt color!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span></p> - -<p>The boy dared not take time to count -them all. The fierce ogre asleep under the -tree might rouse at any moment and find the -pocketbook gone. Away, away, he must -fly, on and on toward the Bagni di Lucca, -even though evening was at hand, and a -gray blanket of cloud threatened to hide -the coming stars. So the little feet twinkled -away through the dust, Natale’s heart now -heavy with the dread of what was behind, -now light with the joy of what might be -ahead. As the warm dusk fell, it seemed -safe to walk again, although every sound -from behind made Natale’s heart seem to -leap into his throat. Indeed, it seemed -pretty much to stay in his throat, until, by -and by, he came upon some one who was -to give him most welcome news.</p> - -<p>He had traveled half a mile farther, and -still it was not yet dark when he sighted a -cluster of houses ahead and heard cheerful -human voices. Coming up to the first -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span>house, he found a pretty, plump young -mother on her doorstep, cuddling a nursling -on her breast. From across the road and -about the house came busy sounds of sheep -and cows being housed for the night in their -thatched pens, and nobody seemed at -leisure except the laughing woman with the -crowing baby in her arms.</p> - -<p>On plying the woman with his usual -question, Natale learned that the end of -his pilgrimage was indeed “just down the -road a little distance”, although, on such -short legs as his, the woman added thoughtfully, -it might take two hours more of brisk -walking to reach even the big circus tent, -standing on the outskirts of the Bagni all -the past week.</p> - -<p>Ah! and was the circus still there?</p> - -<p>Of that the woman could not speak -certainly, as some passer-by had mentioned -only the day before that but one or two -more performances were to be given before -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span>the <i>circo</i> moved on to Lucca. She herself -had wished to go to see the wonderful -Antonio Bisbini, also the little Olga who -had no more fear of a great horse’s hoofs -than she herself of her baby’s brown toes. -But how was a woman to leave her house -and the tired men folks, to tramp down -the hill and up again at night, with a -heavy baby in her arms? Was the little -boy hoping to reach the tent in time for the -night’s exhibition?</p> - -<p>Natale’s heart had thrilled at the mention -of Antonio’s magic name, and his spine -straightened and his head was lifted with -the pride of conscious relationship with the -hero of the circus. He gave but a thought -now to Olga’s usurpation of his place in the -ring. For was he not returning to his own -again, with the stolen pocketbook in the -breast of his blouse? What a welcome -there would be for him now!</p> - -<p>“Well, good night, <i>bimbo</i>, if you will go, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span>and may you enjoy seeing the riding in the -tent!” the woman called to him, looking -wistfully after the little figure plodding -away, after a polite return of her farewell.</p> - -<p>Natale’s heart was carefree now, as he -limped lamely onward to the tune of the -“Dead March,” humming the air as he -went.</p> - -<p>The road had been growing more level -for some hours as it entered the valley, and -the river flowed more still and deep. The -hush of night gathered under the trees, and -the birds and insects went to rest or noiselessly -crept from their haunts about vine -and root, intent upon the business of the -hour.</p> - -<p>As signs of the famous Baths of Lucca -began to appear at certain curves in the -road, Natale became possessed of but -one idea. Down the river he began to see -the lights of the town, and he even thought -he heard the notes of band music, which, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span>in truth, were wafted to his ears from the -terrace of the Casino. His head was full -of plans of stealing into the tent, and for at -least this last night at Bagni di Lucca, playing -his own part in the dying-horse act. -He would not take precious moments now -for practicing a somersault or wheel, as he -went along, but it was easy to rehearse the -dialogue over the dying brute—if only his -tired, tired legs could keep the road, and his -aching eyes find the old yellow tent set up -somewhere among the trees.</p> - -<p>Presently, the gleaming eyes of bicycles -began to whiz by, and a squarely built, -many-windowed villa or two rose flush with -the road. A little farther now, and the tent -would surely appear, with perhaps Cara in -her red dress at the doorway, and the band -playing outside in the light of the big lamp!</p> - -<p>Laughing stragglers now sauntered here -and there, none noticing the child making -his dizzy way among them toward a flare -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span>of light on one side where the trees fell -apart. One would have hardly believed it -possible that there was room for even the -tent of the Circo Equestre of Antonio -Bisbini and Giovanni Marzuchetti in the -space between the long storehouse of corn -and the terraced hillside behind. Yet, not -only was the tent there, spread to its full -circle and height, but the brown wagon also -was visible, drawn within its shadow, and -now the staring brown eyes of the little -wanderer had found them both.</p> - -<p>Yes, there was the dear old tent, with its -white patches upon the dull yellow, showing -against the vine-clad hillsides of the Bagni. -Also, there was the smoky lamp fastened to -a post, where two ways met and parted. -There was the usual crowd gathered outside -about the entrance where Cara in her -red dress and gauzy veil watched over the -money bowl, in wait for some possible late-arriving -spectator. The big reflecting lantern<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> -on the table showed the wistful features -of the outsiders as they crowded about the -tent.</p> - -<p>As Natale crept around the tent, he saw -the bare, brown legs of some trespassing -youngster following squirming head and -shoulders inside, under the curtain by way -of the ground. In former times, the little -acrobat would have been the first to raise -an alarm and assist with alacrity in the -ignominious expulsion of the intruder who -wanted to see the show, and yet keep his -<i>soldi</i> in his pocket, if such were there. But -the sight of the enterprising offender made -little impression on Natale’s mind now, as -he stepped past the struggling legs, for, the -hour being much later than he thought, the -band inside just then struck up the familiar -schottisch, and Natale knew that Il Duca -was even now treading the ring in a dignified -dance, led by Giovanni himself. His heart -gave a suffocating throb, and his cheeks -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span>burned. Then he shivered with cold, and -his weary legs faltered before the daring -deed about to be perpetrated.</p> - -<p>There was plenty of time, even yet, and -he would do it even if Giovanni should strike -him to the ground with his cracking whip, -which had never yet, however, been raised -against him with more than threatening -intent.</p> - -<p>He stopped to listen a moment longer -to the music before entering. Yes, there it -was, the schottisch, accompanied by the -beat of the clever hoofs. Then, as he -knew the moment was at hand for Il Duca -to drop dying in the ring, Natale crept -swiftly in among the players gathered as -usual in the small tent behind. Olga was -there and Arduina, in their fanciful costumes, -and Elvira, his mother, waiting for -their “cues.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII<br /> -<span class="smaller">AT LAST</span></h2></div> - -<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap"><span class="dropcap">T</span>he</span> small, pale apparition of Natale, -suddenly projected into their midst, -so startled them all that even Olga -forgot to listen for the thud of Il Duca’s -heavy body on the ground and the sound of -his groans. They stared open-mouthed for -an instant, and then the apparition vanished -as suddenly as it had appeared.</p> - -<p>But the strains of the “Dead March” -now recalled little Olga to herself, and she -darted from behind the curtain and out into -the light of the oil lamp, only to hear a -familiar boyish voice instead of her own -answering shrilly Giovanni’s question, -“What are you crying about, child?”</p> - -<p>“Because our horse is dead!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span></p> - -<p>“But are you sure he is quite dead?” -And Giovanni’s voice faltered with sudden -fear, as he gazed at Natale’s small, dusty -figure kneeling at the horse’s head, with -Oh! such a world of pleading in his dark -eyes and folded hands.</p> - -<p>“Quite dead!” wailed Natale.</p> - -<p>“Get up and feel his pulse, boy. If -there is any pulse he is <i>not</i> dead!” Giovanni -spoke fiercely, but there was no frown upon -his face.</p> - -<p>And so the farce went on as usual, to the -end, while Olga, with pouting lips, slipped -behind the curtain again and joined the -others who were, every one, peeping in to -see little Natale do his beloved dying-horse -act.</p> - -<p>The little girl had come to enjoy her bit -of acting with Giovanni and Il Duca, for -kneeling with folded hands and sobbing -breath was a pretty attitude, always loudly -applauded, and she no longer feared that -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span>Il Duca would lift his faithful hoof against -her. But now, here was Natale back again, -and his shrill little voice going over the silly -replies to the clown in his own, old way. -Well, it would be rather nice, after all, to -have Natale again, and she would not fuss -about it as there were so few things he could -really do, while she was learning new feats -already, and would soon be riding Tesoro -bareback around the ring.</p> - -<p>A perfect storm of applause succeeded the -end of the dialogue, when Il Duca scrambled -to his feet, and the tent was filled with cries -for a repetition of the scene. But Giovanni -turned swiftly and lifted Natale to -the horse’s back, only in time to prevent the -child’s falling to the ground, as if stunned -by the noise of the shouting. Out of the -ring and through the smaller tent to the -open air beyond Il Duca pranced proudly, -with Giovanni at his bridle, holding Natale -in his place with his free hand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span></p> - -<p>Outside, they laid the child down on the -warm ground in the dim light, and Arduina -brought a cupful of water and bathed his -face, while Olga stood by, and Antonio and -Elvira went back to help Giovanni with his -table-leaping inside.</p> - -<p>“He is not dead, is he, Arduina?” Olga -asked in a frightened voice. “Feel his pulse -as we do Il Duca’s!”</p> - -<p>“Hurry and call Nonna!” the older girl -urged nervously. “We shall have to go in, -the very next thing after this, and Nonna -will know what to do.”</p> - -<p>So when Natale next opened his eyes, the -light of a sputtering candle showed him the -gray head of dear Nonna bent over him. -He lay on a small mattress in a corner, and -the smoke-stained ceiling of the house-wagon -shut out the sky.</p> - -<p>“<i>Ecco!</i> he opens his eyes, my <i>bimbo</i>! my -Natalino! <i>Carino</i>,<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> what does it all mean? -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span>Tell Nonna how you have come back to the -<i>circo</i>!”</p> -<p>But at first Natale only lifted one hand -to stroke the dear, wrinkled face of Nonna, -in smiling content. After a little, he laid -his hand on the breast of his blouse and -begged to be allowed to go to Giovanni.</p> - -<p>“He will not scold me for coming back -when he sees what I have brought with -me,” he urged.</p> - -<p>But Nonna reminded him that the tent -was still crowded with spectators,—did -he not hear the music close by, and the -laughter of the people, as the clown and -Antonio and Arduina did the funny pantomime?</p> - -<p>Natale lay back listening, with a happy -smile on his lips, while Nonna went to blow -up the coals of a small fire on the ground -outside, and to hurry the broth that Natale -might have nourishment. She could not -prevail upon the boy to confide to her -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span>what he was so anxious to tell his stepfather, -and she left him alone, too glad to -have him returned to them, to grumble over -his reticence.</p> - -<p>Of all the children, Natale most sweetly -recalled her own son’s childhood, and -Antonio’s boyish affection for her, his -cheeriness and obedience, had seemed to -live again in Natale, although he was -Elvira’s son, and no grandson, at all, of her -own.</p> - -<p>The little ones, Tito, Maria, Gigi and the -rest, were asleep in their corners, and Nonna -had been sitting at rest in the wagon door -when Olga had rushed up with the news that -Natale had arrived and lay dying, perhaps, -on the ground outside the tent. It was -Nonna’s strong arms that had borne him -away to the house-wagon, and Nonna’s -vigorous rubbings and applications of cold -water that had brought him out of the -half-swoon of exhaustion. So Nonna was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span>content with her work, and would not press -Natalino’s secret from him.</p> - -<p>By the time the performance was over, -and the merry-makers had streamed out -whistling, chatting and laughing together, -and had gone their ways homeward, Natale, -fed and rested, was sitting up bright-eyed -and eager to announce his news.</p> - -<p>It was stuffy and hot in the wagon, and -Giovanni went to fetch the boy outside, the -moment the tent had emptied and the -players were at leisure. Olga had not even -taken time to change the yellow satin -blouse and pink tights for her usual faded -cotton frock. As for Antonio, he had only -slipped his feet into a pair of loose slippers, -so the great acrobat stood before Natale in -all the glory of his spangled black velvet -and shapely, pink-clad limbs.</p> - -<p>As the night was dark, one of the lamps -was brought from the tent, and a wild, -gypsy-like scene its rays revealed under the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span>trees about the steps of the house-wagon. -Elvira, in an access of motherly tenderness, -gathered Natale to her red satin -bosom, and called him by all the musical -pet names belonging to the boys and girls -of Italy, while the musicians peeped over -the shoulders of the actors and wondered -how little Natale had ever found his way on -foot all the way from Cutigliano to the -Bagni.</p> - -<p>“The tramping will have limbered up his -legs!” one whispered to another.</p> - -<p>“Stiffened them, rather!” was the reply, -and then everybody stopped talking and -only gazed the harder as Natale put his -hand within the breast of his blouse and -drew out the old leather pocketbook.</p> - -<p>“There, Giovanni!” he said simply, -reaching the book toward his stepfather. -“The ugly, black peddler with the red cap -like our Leo’s stole the money, and while he -slept on his back, by the road, I stole it from -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span>him, and then—Oh, how fast I ran and -ran that he might not catch me and kill me -with his long, sharp knife!”</p> - -<p>Giovanni, speechless with astonishment -and joy, solemnly received and kissed and -opened the pocketbook, and then spread -out the notes, one by one, on his knee, while -the rest crowded around, counting them -aloud.</p> - -<p>What if all should not be there? Natale’s -eyes shone feverishly as he leaned forward -from his mother’s knee, his gaze alternately -upon the clown’s face, and the long, lithe -fingers handling the money.</p> - -<p>Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, -thirty, thirty-five, forty, forty-five, fifty, -fifty-five, sixty, sixty-five, seventy, seventy-five, -eighty, eighty-two, eighty-four, eighty-six, -eighty-eight, ninety, ninety-one, ninety-two, -ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five, -ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, -ninety-nine, <i>one hundred</i>!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p> - -<p>Natale’s head dropped back against the -red satin shoulder of his mother, and his -large eyes gazed wistfully into Giovanni’s -face.</p> - -<p>Would they let him stay now that he had -come all the weary way “after the wagon”, -bringing them the lost money? Their welcome -had been encouraging; would they let -him remain, or must he be sent back to -Cutigliano, to the priest, to Sora Grazia, -to school, to imprisonment in a house without -wheels, and without Nonna?</p> - -<p>It was Antonio Bisbini who brought up -the question finally and in a manner settled -it with his slow-spoken words. Everybody -had wondered and rejoiced over the safe -return of the pocketbook, with the money -untouched, and Natale had had to tell all -about the peddler, and the risks he had run -of rousing the fellow from sleep in making -his escape with the pocketbook.</p> - -<p>“He was the man who teased me to buy -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span>the beautiful diamond brooch on the day of -San Lorenzo!” cried pretty Arduina, who -well remembered the peddler’s flattering -attentions to her in his hope of finding a -purchaser for his paltry glass jewelry.</p> - -<p>“And the same who so frightened our -Tito outside the church,” Nonna chimed -in indignantly. “And he all the time pretended -to be so pious and anxious to see the -saints’ relics in the church! No wonder -Tito cried at the snapping of those dirty, -thievish fingers in his little face. The -saints only know how he found the money -in Giovanni’s coat-pocket hung in the -tent!”</p> - -<p>“Mamá <i>mia</i>, do you remember how stiff -my legs were when I played at leaping with -the boys at school in Florence?” Antonio, -the finished acrobat, asked thoughtfully, -breaking a long straw with his fingers and -looking at nobody. His blond head reached -almost to the lowest boughs of the chestnut -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span>tree under which he stood, and the lamplight -flared over his fair face and glittering -costume.</p> - -<p>Natale sat up to hear the words of this -oracle, and even slipped off the satin lap of -Elvira to the ground, in order to be nearer -Antonio.</p> - -<p>“I remember that you were a studious -boy,” Nonna murmured in reply, with a -note of the old bitterness in her voice.</p> - -<p>“Natale has done a good work in returning -the money to us, Giovanni,” the acrobat -continued. “Why send him back to the -foreigners? He was unhappy, or he would -never have come all this distance alone—mere -baby that he is.”</p> - -<p>“And the Englishwoman’s money?” -Giovanni asked in a businesslike tone.</p> - -<p>“What has been used, replace from the -pocketbook. It is not much, as we have -taken in so good a sum, here at the Bagni. -Leo can ride back with it to Cutigliano -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span>to-morrow morning, and return in time for -our last night here.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Ebbene!</i>” said Giovanni, and this meaning -“All right, with a very good will,” so it -was decided, and then everybody hurried -to get into comfortable old clothes and to -eat supper.</p> - -<p>Leo was sent to the nearest wine shop for -a bottle of good red wine that the troop -might drink to the joy of Natale’s return -and the recovery of the money; also to the -just discomfiture of all thieving peddlers.</p> - -<p>Long before the evening came to an end, -a tired but most happy little boy had crept -into the shadow and fallen asleep, with his -head pillowed against Nonna’s knee.</p> - -<p>“I am glad thou art come back to us, -Natalino,” she whispered in the softest -Italian above the tangled brown curls, -while the rest sang and made merry, “and -if thy little legs will only grow as straight -and as strong as my Antonio’s, and thy -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span>heart remain as faithful to old Nonna, the -saints forgive me if I care very much whether -thou be acrobat or priest!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>For some reason known best to himself, -but readily guessed by the clown and the -rest of the older members of the circus, the -swarthy peddler was not seen in Bagni di -Lucca for many a day after. But Natale -did not lose his dread of encountering the -fierce eyes and the cruel knife until long -after the circus troop had taken to the road -again.</p> - -<p>Nothing in the world could have induced -Mrs. Bishop, the English lady at Cutigliano, -to touch the money returned with, what -was to her, most astonishing promptness -and honesty through Leo, one of the musicians.</p> - -<p>In the first place, the notes were very dirty, -much more so, she was sure, than when she -had paid them to the clown a little more -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span>than a week before. Secondly, she would -not reclaim money which had been once -devoted to the cause of civilization and -of education. If the “little ingrate” despised -his opportunities and had finally -returned to his “wallowing in the mire”, -let the money which would have bought -him for decency and for usefulness go with -him. Thirdly—but this was not acknowledged -even to Betty—the old lady’s heart -had been touched by the tale Luigi the -priest had come to tell her on the morning -after the flight of the birdling. So her -heart was not quite so hard as her words -sounded, and she was in truth rather rejoiced, -as well as very much relieved in -mind, when Leo had arrived to tell of runaway -Natale’s return to the troop in -safety. Therefore, generously, Mrs. Bishop -would not receive the money because it -seemed to her no longer her own; surely -Giovanni and Elvira and Nonna had kept -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span>their part of the bargain in giving up the -child, while Natale had not even been -consulted in their plan.</p> - -<p>The roll of notes was therefore returned -by Leo to Giovanni, with the foreign lady’s -instructions that the money was to be spent -in providing meat for broth for the children -so long as it should last. There would still -be plenty of cold water always, free as air, -for daily baths along the roads of Italy, and -Mrs. Bishop hoped that Sora Grazia’s -ministrations in that line would not soon -be forgotten by Natale, who for one short -week had been a scrubbed little lad. (It is -safe to say that they were not!)</p> - -<p>Along with the money, Mrs. Bishop sent -a school primer to Natale, with the admonition -that he would at least try to learn -to read while jogging up and down the -earth and upsetting his stomach in all -heathenish sports.</p> - -<p>But Madame Cioche and Betty rejoiced -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span>in open triumph over Natale’s freedom, to -say nothing of the priest Luigi and the -wise old gentleman who had in fact unwittingly -opened the cage door for flight.</p> - -<p>Sora Grazia was a trifle glum for a day or -two at finding her pains thrown away upon -the sulky little protégé of the foreign lady, -but as the month’s pay for his board and -lodging had been in advance, and the -nearly new clothes and shoes and cap were -now thrown into the bargain by Mrs. -Bishop, to repay her for her extra trouble, -she too soon became content and even -pleased with the ending of the rich lady’s -scheme.</p> - -<p>So the bare front wall of the priest’s -house in Cutigliano among the mountains -has, as yet, no prospect of being adorned -by a memorial tablet to a waif of all outdoors -who was willing to be a great man in -books and goodness.</p> - -<p>And Natale?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span></p> - -<p>Well, Natale is learning, better and better, -how to turn his <i>capitomboli</i> over the dusty -circus carpet, and he still feels Il Duca’s -pulse with sorrowful apprehension to the -tune of the “Dead March in Saul”—by -night among the oil lamps.</p> - -<p>By day, he trudges along hot white roads, -under the marvelous blue of Italy’s sky, -with Niero and Bianco for company. Or, -he lies on the ground at Nonna’s side under -some spreading tree in the camping-out -times, sometimes spelling out words in a -dog-eared primer, oftener gazing past the -tree tops at the cloud-ships sailing overhead, -while Nonna tells of Antonio’s wonderful -childhood.</p> - -<p>By and by, when Natale grows too large -to do the dying-horse act, and little Tito, -or Gigi takes his place, he will be dashing -with the horses around the ring. And then, -in the still further and sweeter by and by, -when Antonio’s agile legs will perhaps have -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span>begun to stiffen again, and the straight back -to bend forward a little as he walks, who -but Natale will be the shining star of the -Circo Equestre, like another bespangled, -pink-clad Antonio, with crisp brown curls -and laughing eyes, and the nimblest, -straightest legs in all Italy?</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="adblock"><div class="chapter"> -<p class="center no-indent"><span class="smaller"><i>The story of a little patriotic Cuban girl</i></span></p></div> - -<div class="box"><p class="ph2">LITTLE CUBA LIBRE</p></div> - -<p class="center no-indent"><i>By</i> JANIE PRICHARD DUGGAN</p> - -<p class="center no-indent">Illustrated. 282 pages. 12mo. $1.35 <i>net.</i></p> - -<p>In all the big city of Havana there was no more patriotic -little girl than Amada Trueno, daughter of one of the city -gardeners. With all her heart she hated the Spaniards who -ruled her beloved island of Cuba. “Little Cuba Libre” they -called her when she stamped her foot and called the Spaniards -enemies and tyrants. When she went to her cousin’s house -in the country, although she played on friendly terms with -the children of a Spanish planter, still her hatred of the oppressors -slumbered. How the Cubans finally revolted, and -how little Amada herself took part in that revolution, even -to the extent of bearing arms, is told in this charming story. -“Little Cuba Libre” contains faithful pictures of Cuban life -and Cuban people, and while written especially for young -readers, its fine qualities should also appeal to older ones. -Besides being an interesting story of Cuban girlhood it is a -depiction of the very spirit of patriotism.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="center no-indent">LITTLE, BROWN & CO., <span class="smcap">Publishers</span></p> - -<p class="center no-indent"><span class="smcap">34 Beacon Street, Boston</span></p></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="adblock"><div class="chapter"> -<p class="center no-indent"><span class="smaller"><i>Real stories of three famous elephants</i></span></p></div> - -<div class="box2"><p class="ph2">THE ADVENTURES OF<br /> -MOLLIE, WADDY and TONY</p></div> - -<p class="center no-indent"><i>By</i> PAUL WAITT</p> - -<p class="center no-indent">Illustrated in color by Clara E. Atwood.</p> - -<p class="center no-indent">75 cents net.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>Mollie, Waddy and Tony are three of the most wonderful -elephants in the world. Born in India, they have traveled -all over Europe and our own America, showing their clever -tricks to thousands of boys and girls. They were bought by -the children of Boston and are now kept in the Franklin -Park Zoo, where they will remain the rest of their lives.</p> - -<p>Mr. Waitt writes of their adventures when they were -traveling, and tells of some tricks they played which their -keeper never taught them. Little Tony is the roguish one, -and he is always getting into mischief. That clever little -trunk of his pokes into all sorts of places where it doesn’t belong, -and sometimes it takes Mollie, Waddy and Johann, the -keeper, to make him behave as a proper little elephant should.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“This is the most bewitching elephant story we ever read. -It is the story of their travels through many countries. It is -as good a story for boys and girls as any boys and girls will -ever want to read.”—<i>Journal of Education</i>, Boston.</p> - -<p>“The story of ‘The Adventure of Mollie, Waddy, and -Tony’ is one of the nicest that little people who like animals -can read.”—<i>New York Times.</i></p></div> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="center no-indent">LITTLE, BROWN & CO., <span class="smcap">Publishers</span></p> - -<p class="center no-indent"><span class="smcap">34 Beacon Street, Boston</span></p></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="footblock"><div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2 nobreak"><span class="smcap">Footnotes:</span></p> -</div> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="footnote label">[1]</a> Pronounced Nah-tah´le.</p> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="footnote label">[2]</a> Mush of corn meal.</p> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="footnote label">[3]</a> “The little boy! The little boy!”</p> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="footnote label">[4]</a> Foreigners.</p> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="footnote label">[5]</a> Young prince.</p> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="footnote label">[6]</a> Somersaults.</p> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="footnote label">[7]</a> Little boy.</p> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="footnote label">[8]</a> Good morning.</p> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="footnote label">[9]</a> Inn.</p> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="footnote label">[10]</a> Darling.</p></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="transnote"><div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2 nobreak"><span class="smcap">Transcriber’s Notes:</span></p></div> - -<p>On page 4, Tesore has been changed to Tesoro.</p> - -<p>On page 71, up-stairs has been changed to upstairs.</p> - -<p>Illustrations have been moved to avoid interrupting the flow of -paragraphs.</p> - -<p>All other spelling, hyphenation, and non-English dialogue have been -retained.</p></div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE ACROBAT: A STORY OF ITALY ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin-top:1em; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> -</body> -</html> |