Nobody's Boy

by Hector Malot

  CHAPTER X

  HOMELESS

  When I returned to the inn with heavy heart and red eyes, the landlordwas standing in the yard. I was going to pass him to get to my dogs, buthe stopped me.

  "Well, what about your master?" he asked.

  "He is sentenced."

  "How long?"

  "Two months' prison."

  "How much fine?"

  "One hundred francs."

  "Two months ... one hundred francs," he repeated two or three times.

  I wanted to go on, but again he stopped me.

  "What are you going to do these two months?"

  "I don't know, sir."

  "Oh, you don't know. You've got some money to live on and to buy foodfor your animals, I suppose."

  "No, sir."

  "Then do you count on me keeping you?"

  "No, sir, I don't count on any one."

  That was true. I did not count upon any one.

  "Your master already owes me a lot of money," he continued. "I can'tboard you for two months without knowing if I shall be paid. You'llhave to go."

  "Go! Where shall I go, sir?"

  "That's not my business. I'm nothing to you. Why should I keep you?"

  For a moment I was dazed. The man was right. Why should he give meshelter?

  "Come, take your dogs and monkey and get out! Of course, you must leaveyour master's bag with me. When he comes out of jail, he'll come here toget it, and then he can settle his account."

  An idea came to me.

  "As you know he will settle his bill then, can't you keep me until then,and add what I cost to it?"

  "Ah, ah! Your master might be able to pay for two days' lodging, but twomonths! that's a different thing."

  "I'll eat as little as you wish."

  "And your dogs and monkey! No, be off! You'll pick up enough in thevillages."

  "But, sir, how will my master find me when he comes out of prison? He'llcome to look for me here."

  "All you've got to do is to come back on that day."

  "And if he writes to me?"

  "I'll keep the letter."

  "But if I don't answer him?..."

  "Oh, stop your talk. Hurry up and get out! I give you five minutes. If Ifind you here when I come out again I'll settle you."

  I knew it was useless to plead with him. I had to "get out." I went tothe stables to get the dogs and Pretty-Heart, then strapping my harp onmy shoulder I left the inn.

  I was in a hurry to get out of town, for my dogs were not muzzled. Whatshould I say if I met a policeman? That I had no money? It was thetruth; I had only eleven sous in my pocket. That was not enough to buymuzzles. They might arrest me. If Vitalis and I were both in prison,whatever would become of the animals? I felt the responsibility of myposition.

  As I walked along quickly the dogs looked up at me in a way I could notfail to understand. They were hungry. Pretty-Heart, whom I carried,pulled my ear from time to time to force me to look at him. Then herubbed his stomach in a manner that was no less expressive than thelooks the dogs cast at me. I also was hungry. We had had no breakfast.My eleven sous could not buy enough for dinner and supper, so we shouldhave to be satisfied with one meal, which, if we took it in the middleof the day, would serve us for two.

  I wandered along. I did not care where I went; it was all the same tome, for I did not know the country. The question of finding a place inwhich to sleep did not worry me; we could sleep in the open air.... Butto eat!

  We must have walked for about two hours before I dared to stop, and yetthe dogs had looked up at me imploringly and Pretty-Heart had pulled myear and rubbed his stomach incessantly. At last I felt that I was farenough away from the town to have nothing to fear. I went into the firstbakery that I came across. I asked for one pound and a half of bread.

  "You'd do well to take a two-pound loaf," said the woman. "That's nottoo much for your menagerie. You must feed the poor dogs."

  Oh, no, it was not too much for my menagerie, but it was too much for mypurse. The bread was five sous a pound; two pounds would cost ten sous.I did not think it wise to be extravagant before knowing what I wasgoing to do the next day. I told the woman in an offhand manner that onepound and a half was quite enough and politely asked her not to cutmore. I left the shop with my bread clutched tightly in my arms. Thedogs jumped joyfully around me. Pretty-Heart pulled my hair and chuckledwith glee.

  We did not go far. At the first tree that we saw I placed my harpagainst the trunk and sat down on the grass. The dogs sat opposite me,Capi in the middle, Dulcie at one side, Zerbino on the other.Pretty-Heart, who was not tired, stood up on the watch, ready to snatchthe first piece that he could. To eke out the meal was a delicatematter. I cut the bread into five parts, as near the same size aspossible, and distributed the slices. I gave each a piece in turn, asthough I were dealing cards. Pretty-Heart, who required less food thanwe, fared better, for he was quite satisfied while we were stillfamished. I took three pieces from his share and hid them in my bag togive the dogs later. Then, as there still remained a little piece, Ibroke it and we each had some; that was for dessert.

  After the meal I felt that the moment had come for me to say a few wordsto my companions. Although I was their chief, I did not feel that I wastoo much above them not to wish them to take part in the grave situationin which we found ourselves.

  Capi had probably guessed my intentions, for he sat with his big,intelligent eyes fixed on me.

  "Yes, Capi," I said, "and you, Dulcie, Zerbino and Pretty-Heart, myfriends, I've bad news for you. We shan't see our master for two wholemonths."

  "Ouah," barked Capi.

  "It's bad for him and it's also bad for us, for we depend on him foreverything, and now he's gone, we haven't any money."

  At the mention of the word money, which he perfectly understood, Capirose on his hind paws and commenced to trot round as though he werecollecting money from the "distinguished audience."

  "I see you want to give a performance, Capi," I continued; "that's goodadvice, but should we make anything? That's the question. We have onlythree sous left, so you mustn't get hungry. You've all to be veryobedient; that will make it easier for us all. You must help me all youcan, you dogs and Pretty-Heart. I want to feel that I can count on you."

  I would not make so bold as to say that they understood all I said, butthey got the general idea. They knew by our master's absence thatsomething serious had happened, and they had expected an explanationfrom me. If they did not understand all that I said to them, they wereat least satisfied that I had their welfare at heart, and they showedtheir satisfaction by the attention they gave me.

  Attention? Yes, on the part of the dogs only. It was impossible forPretty-Heart to keep still for long. He could not fix his mind upon onesubject for more than a minute. During the first part of my discourse hehad listened to me with the greatest interest, but before I had saidtwenty words, he had sprung up into a tree, the branches of which hungover our heads, and was now swinging himself from branch to branch. IfCapi had insulted me in like manner, my pride would certainly have beenhurt; but I was never astonished at anything Pretty-Heart might do. Hewas so empty-headed. But after all, it was quite natural that he shouldwant to have a little fun. I admit that I would liked to have done thesame. I would have gone up that tree with pleasure, but the importanceand dignity of my present office did not permit me any suchdistractions.

  After we had rested a while I gave the sign to start. We had to find aplace somewhere to lie down for the night and gain a few sous for ourfood for the next day. We walked for one hour, then came in sight of avillage. I quickly dressed my troop, and in as good marching order aspossible we made our entry. Unfortunately, we had no fife and we lackedVitalis' fine, commanding presence. Like a drum major, he alwaysattracted the eye. I had not the advantage of being tall, nor was Ipossessed of a wonderful head. Quite the reverse, I was small and thinand I must have worn a very anxious look. While marching I glanced tothe right and to the left to se
e what effect we were producing. Verylittle, I regret to say. No one followed us. Upon reaching the smallsquare upon which was a fountain shaded with trees, I took my harp andcommenced to play a waltz. The music was gay, my fingers were light, butmy heart was heavy.

  I told Zerbino and Dulcie to waltz together. They obeyed me at once andcommenced to whirl round, keeping time. But no one put themselves out tocome and see us, and yet in the doorways I saw several women knittingand talking. I continued to play, Zerbino and Dulcie went on with theirwaltz. Perhaps if one decided to come over to us, a second would come,then more and more.

  I played on and on, Zerbino and Dulcie went round and round, but thewomen in the doorways did not even look over at us. It was discouraging.But I was determined not to be discouraged. I played with all my might,making the cords of my harp vibrate, almost to breaking them. Suddenly alittle child, taking its first steps, trotted from his home and cametowards us. No doubt the mother would follow him, and after the mother afriend would come, and we should have an audience, and then a littlemoney.

  I played more softly so as not to frighten the baby, and also to enticehim to come nearer. With hands held out and swaying first on one foot,then on the other, he came on slowly. A few steps more and he would havereached us, but at that moment the mother looked round. She saw her babyat once. But instead of running after him as I had thought she would,she called to him, and the child obediently turned round and went backto her. Perhaps these people did not like dance music; it was quitepossible.

  I told Zerbino and Dulcie to lie down, and I began to sing my_canzonetta_. Never did I try so hard to please.

  I had reached the end of the second line, when I saw a man in a roundjacket, and I felt that he was coming towards me. At last! I tried tosing with even more fervor.

  "Hello, what are you doing here, young rogue?" he cried.

  I stopped, amazed at his words, and watched him coming nearer, with mymouth open.

  "What are you doing here, I say?"

  "Singing, sir."

  "Have you got permission to sing on a public square in our village?"

  "No, sir."

  "Well, be off; if you don't I'll have you arrested."

  "But, sir...."

  "Be off, you little beggar."

  I knew from my poor master's example what it would cost me if I wentagainst the town authorities. I did not make him repeat his order; Ihurried off.

  Beggar! That was not fair. I had not begged; I had sung. In five minutesI had left behind me this inhospitable, but well guarded, village. Mydogs followed me with their heads lowered, and their tails between theirlegs. They certainly knew that some bad luck had befallen us. Capi, fromtime to time, went ahead of us and turned round to look at mequestioningly with his intelligent eyes. Any one else in his place wouldhave questioned me, but Capi was too well bred to be indiscreet. I sawhis lip tremble in the effort he made to keep back his protests.

  When we were far enough away from the village, I signed to them to stop,and the three dogs made a circle round me, Capi in the middle, his eyeson mine.

  "As we had no permission to play, they sent us away," I explained.

  "Well, then?" asked Capi, with a wag of his head.

  "So then we shall have to sleep in the open air and go without supper."

  At the word "supper" there was a general bark. I showed them my threesous.

  "You know that is all we have. If we spend those three sous to-night, weshall have nothing left for breakfast to-morrow. So, as we have hadsomething to-day, it is better to save this." And I put my three sousback in my pocket.

  Capi and Dulcie bent their heads resignedly, but Zerbino, who was not sogood, and who besides was a gourmand, continued to growl. I looked athim severely.

  "Capi, explain to Zerbino, he doesn't seem to understand," I said tofaithful _Capitano_.

  Capi at once tapped Zerbino with his paw. It seemed as though anargument was taking place between the two dogs. One may find the wordargument too much, when applied to dogs, but animals certainly have apeculiar language of their kind. As to dogs, they not only know how tospeak, they know how to read. Look at them with their noses in the airor, with lowered head, sniffing at the ground, smelling the bushes andstones. Suddenly they'll stop before a clump of grass, or a wall, andremain on the alert for a moment. We see nothing on the wall, but thedog reads all sorts of curious things written in mysterious letterswhich we do not understand.

  What Capi said to Zerbino I did not hear, for if dogs can understand thelanguage of men, men do not understand their language. I only saw thatZerbino refused to listen to reason, and that he insisted that the threesous should be spent immediately. Capi got angry, and it was only whenhe showed his teeth that Zerbino, who was a bit of a coward, lapsed intosilence. The word "silence" is also used advisedly. I mean by silencethat he laid down.

  The weather was beautiful, so that to sleep in the open air was not aserious matter. The only thing was to keep out of the way of the wolves,if there were any in this part of the country.

  We walked straight ahead on the white road until we found a place. Wehad reached a wood. Here and there were great blocks of granite. Theplace was very mournful and lonely, but there was no better, and Ithought that we might find shelter from the damp night air amongst thegranite. When I say "we," I mean Pretty-Heart and myself, for the dogswould not catch cold sleeping out of doors. I had to be careful ofmyself, for I knew how heavy was my responsibility. What would become ofus all if I fell ill, and what would become of me if I had Pretty-Heartto nurse?

  We found a sort of grotto between the stones, strewn with dried leaves.This was very nice. All that was lacking was something to eat. I triednot to think that we were hungry. Does not the proverb say, "He whosleeps, eats."

  Before lying down I told Capi that I relied upon him to keep watch, andthe faithful dog, instead of sleeping with us on the pine leaves, laiddown like a sentinel at the entrance of our quarters. I could sleep inpeace, for I knew that none would come near without me being warned byCapi. Yet, although, at rest on this point, I could not sleep at once.Pretty-Heart was asleep beside me, wrapped up in my coat; Zerbino andDulcie were stretched at my feet. But my anxiety was greater than myfatigue.

  This first day had been bad; what would the next day be? I was hungryand thirsty, and yet I only had three sous. How could I buy food for allif I did not earn something the next day? And the muzzles? And thepermission to sing? Oh, what was to be done! Perhaps we should all dieof hunger in the bushes. While turning over these questions in my mind,I looked up at the stars, which shone in the dark sky. There was not abreath of wind. Silence everywhere. Not the rustle of a leaf or the cryof a bird, nor the rumble of a cart on the road. As far as my eye couldsee, stretched space. How alone we were; how abandoned! The tears filledmy eyes. Poor Mother Barberin! poor Vitalis.

  I was lying on my stomach, crying into my hands, when suddenly I felt abreath pass through my hair. I turned over quickly, and a big softtongue licked my wet cheek. It was Capi who had heard me crying and hadcome to comfort me as he had done on the first day of my wanderings.With my two hands I took him by the neck and kissed him on his wetnose. He uttered two or three little mournful snorts, and it seemed tome that he was crying with me. I slept. When I awoke it was full day andCapi was sitting beside me, looking at me. The birds were singing in thetrees. In the distance I could hear a church bell ringing the Angelus,the morning prayer. The sun was already high in the sky, throwing itsbright rays down to comfort heart and body.

  We started off, going in the direction of the village where we shouldsurely find a baker: when one goes to bed without dinner or supper oneis hungry early in the morning. I made up my mind to spend the threesous, and after that we would see what would happen.

  Upon arriving in the village there was no need for me to ask where thebaker lived; our noses guided us straight to the shop. My sense of smellwas now as keen as that of my dogs. From the distance I sniffed thedelicious odor of hot bread. We could no
t get much for three sous, whenit costs five sous a pound. Each of us had but a little piece, so ourbreakfast was soon over.

  We _had_ to make money that day. I walked through the village to find afavorable place for a performance, and also to note the expressions ofthe people, to try and guess if they were enemies or friends. Myintention was not to give the performance at once. It was too early, butafter finding a place we would come back in the middle of the day andtake a chance.

  I was engrossed with this idea, when suddenly I heard some one shoutingbehind me. I turned round quickly and saw Zerbino racing towards me,followed by an old woman. It did not take me long to know what was thematter. Profiting by my preoccupation, Zerbino had run into a house andstolen a piece of meat. He was racing alone, carrying his booty in hisjaws.

  "Thief! thief!" cried the old woman; "catch him! Catch all of 'em!"

  When I heard her say this, I felt that somehow I was guilty, or atleast, that I was responsible for Zerbino's crime, so I began to run.What could I say to the old woman if she demanded the price of thestolen meat? How could I pay her? If we were arrested they would put usin prison. Seeing me flying down the road, Dulcie and Capi were not longfollowing my example; they were at my heels, while Pretty-Heart, whom Icarried on my shoulder, clung round my neck so as not to fall.

  Some one else cried: "Stop thief!" and others joined in the chase. Butwe raced on. Fear gave us speed. I never saw Dulcie run so fast; herfeet barely touched the ground. Down a side street and across a field wewent, and soon we had outstripped our pursuers, but I did not stoprunning until I was quite out of breath. We had raced at least twomiles. I turned round. No one was following us. Capi and Dulcie werestill at my heels, Zerbino was in the distance. He had stopped probablyto eat his piece of meat. I called him, but he knew very well that hedeserved a severe punishment, so instead of coming to me, he ran away asfast as he could. He was famished, that was why he had stolen the meat.But I could not accept this as an excuse. He had stolen. If I wanted topreserve discipline in my troop, the guilty one must be punished. Ifnot, in the next village Dulcie would do the same, and then Capi wouldsuccumb to the temptation. I should have to punish Zerbino publicly. Butin order to do that I should have to catch him, and that was not an easything to do.

  I turned to Capi.

  "Go and find Zerbino," I said gravely.

  He started off at once to do what I told him, but it seemed to me thathe went with less ardor than usual. From the look that he gave me, I sawthat he would far rather champion Zerbino than be my envoy. I sat downto await his return with the prisoner. I was pleased to get a rest afterour mad race. When we stopped running we had reached the bank of a canalwith shady trees and fields on either side.

  An hour passed. The dogs had not returned. I was beginning to feelanxious when at last Capi appeared alone, his head hanging down.

  "Where is Zerbino?"

  Capi laid down in a cowed attitude. I looked at him and noticed that oneof his ears was bleeding. I knew what had happened. Zerbino had put up afight. I felt that, although Capi had obeyed my orders, he hadconsidered that I was too severe and had let himself be beaten. I couldnot scold him. I could only wait until Zerbino chose to return. I knewthat sooner or later he would feel sorry and would come back and takehis punishment.

  I stretched myself out under a tree, holding Pretty-Heart tight for fearhe should take it into his head to join Zerbino. Dulcie and Capi sleptat my feet. Time passed. Zerbino did not appear. At last I also droppedoff to sleep.

  Several hours had passed when I awoke. By the sun I could tell that itwas getting late, but there was no need for the sun to tell me that. Mystomach cried out that it was a long time since I had eaten that pieceof bread. And I could tell from the looks of the two dogs andPretty-Heart that they were famished. Capi and Dulcie fixed their eyeson me piteously; Pretty-Heart made grimaces. But still Zerbino had notcome back. I called to him, I whistled, but in vain. Having well lunchedhe was probably digesting his meal, cuddled up in a bush.

  The situation was becoming serious. If I left this spot, Zerbino perhapswould get lost, for he might not be able to find us; then if I stayed,there was no chance of me making a little money to buy something to eat.Our hunger became more acute. The dogs fixed their eyes on meimploringly, and Pretty-Heart rubbed his stomach and squealed angrily.

  Still Zerbino did not return. Once more I sent Capi to look for thetruant, but at the end of half an hour he came back alone. What was tobe done?

  Although Zerbino was guilty, and through his fault we were put into thisterrible position, I could not forsake him. What would my master say ifI did not take his three dogs back to him? And then, in spite of all, Iloved Zerbino, the rogue! I decided to wait until evening, but it wasimpossible to remain inactive. If we were doing something I thought wemight not feel the pangs of hunger so keenly. If I could inventsomething to distract us, we might, for the time being, forget that wewere so famished. What could we do?

  I pondered over the question. Then I remembered that Vitalis had told methat when a regiment was tired out by a long march, the band played thegayest airs so that the soldiers should forget their fatigue. If Iplayed some gay pieces on my harp, perhaps we could forget our hunger.We were all so faint and sick, yet if I played something lively and madethe two poor dogs dance with Pretty-Heart the time might pass quicker. Itook my instrument, which I had placed up against a tree and, turning myback to the canal I put my animals in position and began to play adance.

  At first neither the dogs nor the monkey seemed disposed to dance. Allthey wanted was food. My heart ached as I watched their pitifulattitude. But they must forget their hunger, poor little things! Iplayed louder and quicker, then, little by little, the music producedits customary effect. They danced and I played on and on.

  Suddenly I heard a clear voice, a child's voice, call out: "Bravo." Thevoice came from behind me. I turned round quickly.

  A barge had stopped on the canal. The two horses which dragged the boatwere standing on the opposite bank. It was a strange barge. I had neverseen one like it. It was much shorter than the other boats on the canal,and the deck was fashioned like a beautiful veranda, covered with plantsand foliage. I could see two people, a lady, who was still young, with abeautiful sad face, and a boy about my own age, who seemed to be lyingdown. It was evidently the little boy who had called out "Bravo!"

  I was very surprised at seeing them. I lifted my hat to thank them fortheir applause.

  "Are you playing for your own pleasure?" asked the lady, speaking Frenchwith a foreign accent.

  "I am keeping the dogs in practice and also ... it diverts theirattention."

  The child said something. The lady bent over him.

  "Will you play again?" she then asked, turning round to me.

  Would I play? Play for an audience who had arrived at such a moment! Idid not wait to be asked twice.

  "Would you like a dance or a little comedy?" I asked.

  "Oh, a comedy," cried the child. But the lady said she preferred adance.

  "A dance is too short," said the boy.

  "If the 'distinguished audience' wishes, after the dance, we willperform our different roles."

  This was one of my master's fine phrases. I tried to say it in the samegrand manner as he. Upon second thought, I was not sorry that the ladydid not wish for a comedy, for I don't see how I could have given aperformance; not only was Zerbino absent, but I had none of the "stagefittings" with me.

  I played the first bars of a waltz. Capi took Dulcie by the waist withhis two paws and they whirled round, keeping good time. ThenPretty-Heart danced alone. Successively, we went through all ourrepertoire. We did not feel tired now. The poor little creatures knewthat they would be repaid with a meal and they did their best. I also.

  Then, suddenly, in the midst of a dance in which all were taking part,Zerbino came out from behind a bush, and as Capi and Dulcie andPretty-Heart passed near him, he boldly took his place amongst them.

  While playin
g and watching my actors, I glanced from time to time atthe little boy. He seemed to take great pleasure in what we were doing,but he did not move. He looked as though he was lying on a stretcher.The boat had drifted right to the edge of the bank, and now I could seethe boy plainly. He had fair hair. His face was pale, so white that onecould see the blue veins on his forehead. He had the drawn face of asick child.

  "How much do you charge for seats at your performance?" asked the lady.

  "You pay according to the pleasure we have given you."

  "Then, Mamma, you must pay a lot," said the child. He added something ina language that I did not understand.

  "My son would like to see your actors nearer."

  I made a sign to Capi. With delight, he sprang onto the boat.

  "And the others!" cried the little boy.

  Zerbino and Dulcie followed Capi's example.

  "And the monkey!"

  Pretty-Heart could have easily made the jump, but I was never sure ofhim. Once on board he might do some tricks that certainly would not beto the lady's taste.

  "Is he spiteful?" she asked.

  "No, madam, but he is not always obedient, and I am afraid that he willnot behave himself."

  "Well, bring him on yourself."

  She signed to a man who stood near the rail. He came forward and threw aplank across to the bank. With my harp on my shoulder and Pretty-Heartin my arms I stepped up the plank.

  "The monkey! the monkey!" cried the little boy, whom the lady addressedas Arthur.

  I went up to him and, while he stroked and petted Pretty-Heart, Iwatched him. He was strapped to a board.

  "Have you a father, my child?" asked the lady.

  "Yes, but I am alone just now."

  "For long?"

  "For two months."

  "Two months! Oh, poor little boy. At your age how is it that you happento be left all alone?"

  "It has to be, madam."

  "Does your father make you take him a sum of money at the end of twomonths? Is that it?"

  "No, madam, he does not force me to do anything. If I can make enough tolive with my animals, that is all."

  "And do you manage to get enough?"

  I hesitated before replying. I felt a kind of awe, a reverence for thisbeautiful lady. Yet she talked to me so kindly and her voice was sosweet, that I decided to tell her the truth. There was no reason why Ishould not. Then I told her how Vitalis and I had been parted, that hehad gone to prison because he had defended me, and how since he had goneI had been unable to make any money.

  While I was talking, Arthur was playing with the dogs, but he waslistening to what I said.

  "Then how hungry you all must be!" he cried.

  At this word, which the animals well knew, the dogs began to bark andPretty-Heart rubbed his stomach vigorously.

  "Oh, Mamma!" cried Arthur.

  The lady said a few words in a strange language to a woman, whose head Icould see through a half open door. Almost immediately the womanappeared with some food.

  "Sit down, my child," said the lady.

  I did so at once. Putting my harp aside I quickly sat down in the chairat the table; the dogs grouped themselves around me. Pretty-Heart jumpedon my knee.

  "Do your dogs eat bread?" asked Arthur.

  "Do they eat bread!"

  I gave them a piece which they devoured ravenously.

  "And the monkey?" said Arthur.

  But there was no occasion to worry about Pretty-Heart, for while I wasserving the dogs he had taken a piece of crust from a meat pie and wasalmost choking himself underneath the table. I helped myself to the pieand, if I did not choke like Pretty-Heart, I gobbled it up no lessgluttonously than he.

  "Poor, poor child!" said the lady.

  Arthur said nothing, but he looked at us with wide open eyes, certainlyamazed at our appetites, for we were all as famished as one another,even Zerbino, who should have been somewhat appeased by the meat that hehad stolen.

  "What would you have eaten to-night if you had not met us?" askedArthur.

  "I don't think we should have eaten at all."

  "And to-morrow?"

  "Perhaps to-morrow we should have had the luck to meet some one like wehave to-day."

  Arthur then turned to his mother. For some minutes they spoke togetherin a foreign language. He seemed to be asking for something which atfirst she seemed not quite willing to grant. Then, suddenly, the boyturned his head. His body did not move.

  "Would you like to stay with us?" he asked.

  I looked at him without replying; I was so taken back by the question.

  "My son wants to know if you would like to stay with us?" repeated thelady.

  "On this boat?"

  "Yes, my little boy is ill and he is obliged to be strapped to thisboard. So that the days will pass more pleasantly for him, I take himabout in this boat. While your master is in prison, if you like, you maystay here with us. Your dogs and your monkey can give a performanceevery day, and Arthur and I will be the audience. You can play your harpfor us. You will be doing us a service and we, on our side, may beuseful to you."

  To live on a boat! What a kind lady. I did not know what to say. I tookher hand and kissed it.

  "Poor little boy!" she said, almost tenderly.

  She had said she would like me to play my harp: this simple pleasure Iwould give her at once. I wanted to show how grateful I was. I took myinstrument and, going to the end of the boat, I commenced to playsoftly. The lady put a little silver whistle to her lips and blew it.

  I stopped playing, wondering why she had whistled. Was it to tell methat I was playing badly, or to ask me to stop? Arthur, who saweverything that passed around him, noticed my uneasiness.

  "My mamma blew the whistle for the horses to go on," he said.

  That was so; the barge, towed by the horses, glided over the soft waterswhich lapped gently against the keel; on either side were trees andbehind us fell the oblique rays from the setting sun.

  "Will you play?" asked Arthur.

  He beckoned to his mother. She sat down beside him. He took her hand andkept it in his, and I played to them all the pieces that my master hadtaught me.