CHAPTER X
FRENCH'S HOTEL
Pietro had one of those mean and malignant natures that are best pleasedwhen they are instrumental in bringing others into trouble. He lookedforward to becoming a padrone himself some time, and seemed admirablyfitted by nature to exercise the inhuman office. He lost no time, on hisreturn, in making known to his uncle what he had learned.
For the boys to appropriate to their own use money which had beenreceived for their services was, in the eyes of the padrone, a crime ofthe darkest shade. In fact, if the example were generally followed, itwould have made a large diminution of his income, though the boys mighthave been benefited. He listened to Pietro with an ominous scowl, anddecided to inflict condign punishment upon the young offenders.
Meanwhile Phil and Giacomo resumed their wanderings. They no longerhoped to make up the large difference between what they had and the sumthey were expected by the padrone to bring. As the evening advanced thecold increased, and penetrated through their thin clothing, chillingthem through and through. Giacomo felt it the most. By and by he beganto sob with the cold and fatigue.
"What is the matter, Giacomo?" asked Phil, anxiously.
"I feel so cold, Filippo--so cold and tired. I wish I could rest."
The boys were in Printing House Square, near the spot where now standsthe Franklin statue.
"If you want to rest, Giacomo," said Phil, pityingly, "we will go intoFrench's Hotel a little while."
"I should like to."
They entered the hotel and sat down near the heater. The grateful warmthdiffused itself through their frames, and Giacomo sank back in his seatwith a sigh of relief.
"Do you feel better, Giacomo?" asked his comrade.
"Yes, Filippo; I wish I could stay here till it is time to go home."
"We will, then. We shall get no more money outside."
"The padrone----"
"Will beat us at any rate. It will be no worse for us. Besides they maypossibly ask us to play here."
"I can play no more to-night, Filippo, I am so tired."
Phil knew very little of sickness, or he might have seen that Giacomowas going to be ill. Exposure, fatigue, and privation had been too muchfor his strength. He had never been robust, and he had been subjected totrials that would have proved hard for one much stronger to bear.
When he had once determined to remain in the comfortable hotel, Philleaned back in his chair also, and decided to enjoy all the comfortattainable. What though there was a beating in prospect?
He had before him two or three hours of rest and relief from the outsidecold. He was something of a philosopher, and chose not to let futureevil interfere with present good.
Near the two boys sat two young men--merchants from the interior of NewYork State, who were making a business visit to the metropolis.
"Well, Gardner," said the first, "where shall we go to-night?"
"Why need we go anywhere?"
"I thought you might like to go to some place of amusement."
"So I would if the weather were less inclement. The most comfortableplace is by the fire."
"You are right as to that, but the evening will be long and stupid."
"Oh, we can worry it through. Here, for instance, are two youngmusicians," indicating the little fiddlers. "Suppose we get a tune outof them?"
"Agreed. Here, boy, can you play on that fiddle?"
"Yes," said Phil.
"Well, give us a tune, then. Is that your brother?"
"No, he is my comrade."
"He can play, too."
"Will you play, Giacomo?"
The younger boy roused himself. The two stood up, and played two orthree tunes successfully. A group of loungers gathered around them andlistened approvingly. When they had finished Phil took off his hat andwent the rounds. Some gave, the two first mentioned contributing mostliberally. The whole sum collected was about fifty cents.
Phil and Giacomo now resumed their seats. They felt now that they wereentitled to rest for the remainder of the evening, since they had gainedquite as much as they would have been likely to earn in wandering aboutthe streets. The group that had gathered about them dispersed, and theyceased to be objects of attention. Fatigue and the warmth of the roomgradually affected Giacomo until he leaned back and fell asleep.
"I won't take him till it's time to go back," thought Phil.
So Giacomo slept on, despite the noises in the street outside and theconfusion incident to every large hotel. As he sat asleep, he attractedthe attention of a stout gentleman who was passing, leading by the handa boy of ten.
"Is that your brother?" he asked in a low tone of Phil.
"No, signore; it is my comrade."
"So you go about together?"
"Yes, sir," answered Phil, bethinking himself to use English instead ofItalian.
"He seems tired."
"Yes; he is not so strong as I am."
"Do you play about the streets all day?"
"Yes, sir."
"How would you like that, Henry?" asked his father to the boy at hisside.
"I should like to play about the streets all day," said Henry,roguishly, misinterpreting the word "play."
"I think you would get tired of it. What is your name, my boy?"
"Filippo."
"And what is the name of your friend?"
"Giacomo."
"Did you never go to school?"
Phil shook his head.
"Would you like to go?"
"Yes, sir."
"You would like it better than wandering about the streets all day?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why do you not ask your father to send you to school?"
"My father is in Italy."
"And his father, also?"
"Si, signore," answered Phil, relapsing into Italian.
"What do you think of that, Henry?" asked the gentleman. "How shouldyou like to leave me, and go to some Italian city to roam about all day,playing on the violin?"
"I think I would rather go to school."
"I think you would."
"Are you often out so late, Filippo? I think that is the name you gaveme."
Phil shrugged his shoulders
"Always," he answered.
"At what time do you go home?"
"At eleven."
"It is too late for a boy of your age to sit up. Why do you not go homesooner?"
"The padrone would beat me."
"Who is the padrone?"
"The man who brought me from Italy to America."
"Poor boys!" said the gentleman, compassionately. "Yours is a hard life.I hope some time you will be in a better position."
Phil fixed his dark eyes upon the stranger, grateful for his words ofsympathy.
"Thank you," he said.
"Good-night," said the stranger, kindly.
"Good-night, signore."
An hour passed. The City Hall clock near by struck eleven. The time hadcome for returning to their mercenary guardian. Phil shook the sleepingform of Giacomo. The little boy stirred in his sleep, and murmured,"Madre." He had been dreaming of his mother and his far-off Italianhome. He woke to the harsh realities of life, four thousand miles awayfrom that mother and home.
"Have I slept, Filippo?" he asked, rubbing his eyes, and looking abouthim in momentary bewilderment.
"Yes, Giacomo. You have slept for two hours and more. It is eleveno'clock."
"Then we must go back."
"Yes; take your violin, and we will go."
They passed out into the cold street, which seemed yet colder bycontrast with the warm hotel they just left, and, crossing to thesidewalk that skirts the park, walked up Centre street.
Giacomo was seized with a fit of trembling. His teeth chattered withthe cold. A fever was approaching, although neither he nor his companionknew it.
"Are you cold, Giacomo?" asked Phil, noticing how he trembled.
"I am very cold. I feel sick, Filippo."
"You will feel
better to-morrow," said Phil; but the thought of thebeating which his little comrade was sure to receive saddened him morethan the prospect of being treated in the same way himself.
They kept on their way, past the Tombs with its gloomy entrance, throughthe ill-lighted street, scarcely noticed by the policeman whom theypassed--for he was accustomed to see boys of their class out late atnight--until at last they reached the dwelling of the padrone, who waswaiting their arrival with the eagerness of a brutal nature, impatientto inflict pain.
Phil, the Fiddler Page 10
