Nobody's Boy Part 29

We trudged along, but the five minutes seemed an eternity.

"Where are the ruts?"

"They are still on the right."

"We must have pa.s.sed the entrance to the race-course without seeing it.

I think we'd better go back."

Once more we turned back.

"Do you see the trees?"

"Yes, there on the left."

"And the ruts?"

"There are not any."

"Am I blind?" asked Vitalis in a low voice, as he pa.s.sed his hands across his eyes; "walk straight along by the trees, and give me your hand."

"Here is a wall."

"No, it's a heap of stones."

"No, I am sure it's a wall."

Vitalis took a step aside to see if it really was as I said. He stretched out his two hands and touched the wall.

"Yes, it's a wall," he murmured. "Where is the entrance. Look for the track."

I stooped down to the ground and felt all along to the end of the wall, but I found no entrance; then, turning back to where Vitalis stood, I continued to feel along the wall on the other side. The result was the same; there was no opening, no gate.

"There is nothing," I said.

The situation was terrible. Without doubt my master was delirious.

Perhaps there was no race-course here at all! Vitalis stood for a moment as though in a dream. Capi began to bark impatiently.

"Shall we look further?" I asked.

"No, the race-course is walled up."

"Walled up?"

"Yes, they have closed the opening, and it is impossible for us to get inside."

"Well, then?"

"What to do, eh? I don't know. Die here."

"Oh, Master! Master!"

"Yes, you don't want to die, you are so young. Life seems good to you.

Let us walk on. Can you still walk a bit further, my child."

"Oh, but you?"

"When I can go no farther, I shall fall down like an old horse."

"Where shall we go?"

"Return to Paris. When we meet a policeman we will let him take us to the police station. I did not want that, but I cannot let you die of cold, boy. Come, little Remi, come. On, my children. Courage!"

We turned back the same way that we had come. What time was it? I had no idea. We had walked for hours, a long, long time, and so slowly. Perhaps it was midnight or one o'clock. The sky was still a somber blue, without moon, and with but few stars, and the few that had appeared seemed to me to be smaller than usual. The wind had increased; the snow beat in our faces; the houses that we pa.s.sed were closed for the night. It seemed to me that if the people who slept there, warmly beneath the sheets, knew how cold we were outside, they would have opened their doors to us.

Vitalis walked slower and slower; when I spoke to him he made a sign to me to be silent. We were now nearing the city. Vitalis stopped. I knew that he had come to the end of his strength.

"Shall I knock at one of the doors?" I asked.

"No, they will not let us in. They are gardeners who live here. They supply the market. They would not get up at this hour to take us in. Let us go on."

But he had more will than strength. After a moment he stopped again.

"I must rest a little," he said, feebly; "I can't go on."

There was a gate leading to a big garden. The wind had blown a lot of straw, that covered a manure heap near the gate, into the street.

"I am going to sit here," said Vitalis.

"You said that if we sat down we should get too cold to get up again."

He made no reply, but signed for me to heap up the straw against the door; then he fell, rather than sat down upon it. His teeth chattered and all his body shook.

"Bring some more straw," he said; "with a lot of straw we can keep the wind from us."

The wind, yes, but not the cold. When I had gathered up all the straw that I could, I sat down beside Vitalis.

"Come quite close to me," he said, "and lift Capi on your lap. He will give you some warmth from his body."

Vitalis was ill. Did he know how ill? As I crept close up against him, he bent over and kissed me. That was the second time he had kissed me.

Alas! it was the last.

Scarcely had I cuddled up against Vitalis than I felt my eyes close. I tried to keep them open, but I could not. I pinched my arms, but there was no feeling in my flesh. On my legs, which were drawn up to my chest, Capi slept already. The wind blew the wisps of straw upon us like dried leaves that fall from a tree. There was not a soul in the street, and around us was the silence of death.

This silence frightened me. Of what was I afraid? I did not know, but a vague fear came over me. It seemed to me that I was dying there. And then I felt very sad. I thought of Chavanon, of poor Mother Barberin.

Must I die without seeing her again, and our little house, and my little garden! Then, I was no longer cold; it seemed that I was back in my little garden. The sun was s.h.i.+ning and was so warm. The jonquils were opening their golden petals; the birds were singing in the trees and on the hedges. Yes, and Mother Barberin was hanging out the clothes that she had just washed in the brook, which rippled over the pebbles. Then I left Chavanon, and joined Arthur and Mrs. Milligan on the _Swan_. Then my eyes closed again, my heart seemed to grow heavy, and I remembered no more.