Nobody's Boy Part 24

"I am quite willing to satisfy your curiosity, Madam," he said; "you are surprised that a dog trainer is able to sing a little. But I have not always been what I am now. When I was younger I was ... the servant of a great singer, and like a parrot I imitated him. I began to repeat some of the songs he practiced in my presence. That is all."

The lady did not reply. She looked hard at Vitalis. He seemed embarra.s.sed.

"Good-by, sir," she said at last, laying a stress on the word "sir."

"Good-by, and once more let me thank you for the exquisite delight you have given me this evening." And leaning towards Capi she dropped a gold piece in his cup.

I thought that Vitalis would escort her to the door, but he did nothing of the kind, and when she was out of hearing I heard him swear softly in Italian.

"She gave Capi a louis," I said.

I thought he was going to give me a blow, but he let his raised hand fall to his side.

"A louis," he said, as though he were coming out of a dream. "Ah, yes, poor Pretty-Heart. I had forgotten him. Let us go back to the little creature at once."

I climbed the stairs of the inn first and went into the room. The fire was not out, but there were no flames. I lit a candle quickly. I was surprised not to hear any sound from Pretty-Heart. I found him, lying under his coverlets, stretched out his full length, dressed in his general's uniform. He appeared to be asleep. I leaned over him and took his hand gently to wake him up. His hand was cold. Vitalis came into the room. I turned to him.

"Pretty-Heart is cold," I said.

My master came to my side and also leaned over the bed.

"He is dead," he said. "It was to be. Ah, Remi, boy, I did wrong to take you away from Mrs. Milligan. I am punished. Zerbino, Dulcie, and now Pretty-Heart and ... this is not the end!"

CHAPTER XV

FAITHFUL FRIENDS

We were still a long way from Paris. We had to go by roads covered with snow, and walk from morning till night, the north wind blowing in our faces. How sad and weary were those long tramps.

Vitalis walked ahead, I at his heels, and Capi behind me. Thus in line we went onward without exchanging a word, for hours and hours, faces blue with cold, feet wet, stomachs empty. The people who pa.s.sed us on the way turned round to gaze at us. Evidently they thought it strange.... Where was this old man leading his child and the dog?

The silence seemed terrible to me, and so sad. I would liked to have talked just for company, but when I did venture to make a remark, Vitalis replied briefly, without even turning his head. Fortunately, Capi was more sociable, and as I trudged along I often felt his warm tongue on my hand. He licked me as much as to say, "Your friend, Capi, is here with you." Then I stroked him gently, without stopping. We understood each other; we loved each other.

On the slippery snow we went straight ahead, without stopping, sleeping at night in a stable or in a sheepfold, with a piece of bread, alas, very small, for our meal in the evening. This was our dinner and supper in one.

We did not tell the shepherds that we were dying of hunger, but Vitalis, with his usual cleverness, would say insinuatingly that "the little chap was very fond of sheep's milk, because, when he was a baby, he used to drink it." This story did not always take effect, but it was a good night for me when it did. Yes, I was very fond of sheep's milk and when they gave me some I felt much stronger the next day.

It seemed strange to me that, as we neared Paris, the country ceased to be beautiful. The snow was not white and dazzling now. I had heard what a wonderful place Paris was, and I expected something extraordinary. I did not know exactly what. I should not have been surprised to see trees of gold, streets of marble, palaces everywhere.

What were we poor things going to do when we reached Paris? I wanted to question Vitalis, but I did not dare, he seemed so gloomy. When we were in sight of the roofs and the church towers of the capital, he slackened his step to walk beside me.

"Remi," he said suddenly, "we are going to part when we get to Paris."

I looked at him. He looked at me. The sudden pallor of my face and the trembling of my lips told him what effect his words had on me. For a moment I could not speak.

"Going to part!" I murmured at last.

"Poor little chap, yes, we must part."

The tone in which he said this brought the tears to my eyes. It was so long since I had heard a kind word.

"Oh, you are so good," I cried.

"It is you who are good. You brave little heart. There comes a time in one's life when one feels these things. When all goes well, one goes along through life without thinking much who is with one, but when things go wrong, when one is on the wrong track, and above all when one is old, one wants to lean on somebody. You may be surprised that I have wanted to lean on you. And yet it is so. But only to see that your eyes are moist as you listen to me, comforts me, little Remi. I am very unhappy."

I did not know what to say. I just stroked his hand.

"And the misfortune is that we have to part just at the time when we are getting nearer to each other."

"But you're not going to leave me all alone in Paris?" I asked timidly.

"No, certainly not. What would you do in the big city, all by yourself, poor child. I have no right to leave you, remember that. The day when I would not let that good lady take you and bring you up as her son, that day I bound myself to do the best I could for you. I can do nothing at this moment, and that is why I think it is best to part. It is only for a time. We can do better if we separate during the last months of the bad season. What can we do in Paris with all gone but Capi?"

Hearing his name mentioned, dear Capi came beside us: he put his paw to his ear in military salute, then placed it on his heart, as though to tell us that we could count on his devotion. My master stopped to pa.s.s his hand affectionately over the dog's head.

"Yes, Capi, you're a good, faithful friend, but, alas! without the others we can't do much now."

"But my harp...."

"If I had two children like you it would be better. But an old man with just one little boy is bad business. I am not old enough. Now, if I were only blind or broken down! I am not in a pitiful state enough for people to stop and notice us. So, my boy, I have decided to give you to a _padrone_, until the end of the winter. He will take you with other children that he has, and you will play your harp...."

"And you?" I asked.

"I am known in Paris, I have stayed there several times. I will give violin lessons to the Italian children who play on the streets. I have only to say that I will give lessons to find all the pupils I want. And, in the meantime, I will train two dogs that will replace poor Zerbino and Dulcie. Then in the spring we will be together again, my little Remi. We are only pa.s.sing through a bad time now; later, I will take you through Germany and England, then you will grow big and your mind will develop. I will teach you a lot of things and make a man of you. I promised this to Mrs. Milligan. I will keep my promise. That is the reason why I have already commenced to teach you English. You can speak French and Italian, that is something for a child of your age."

Perhaps it was all for the best as my master said, but I could only think of two things.

We were to be parted, and I was to have a _padrone_.

During our wanderings I had met several _padrones_ who used to beat the children who worked for them. They were very cruel, and they swore, and usually they were drunk. Would I belong to one of those terrible men?

And then, even if fate gave me a kind master, it was another change.

First, my foster mother, then Vitalis, then another.... Was it to be always so? Should I never find anyone that I could love and stay with always? Little by little I had grown attached to Vitalis. He seemed almost what I thought a father would be. Should I never have a father, have a family? Always alone in this great world! n.o.body's boy!

Vitalis had asked me to be brave. I did not wish to add to his sorrows, but it was hard, so hard, to leave him.

As we walked down a dirty street, with heaps of snow on either side covered with cinders and rotten vegetables, I asked: "Where are we?"

"In Paris, my boy."

Where were my marble houses? And the trees of gold, and the finely dressed people. Was this Paris! Was I to spend the winter in a place like this, parted from Vitalis and Capi?

CHAPTER XVI