Nobody's Boy Part 33

Lise, who could not speak, just squeezed my hand and looked up at me with her big, beautiful eyes.

"Well, I'm a brother, and I'll prove it," I said stoutly.

"There's a job with Pernuit; shall I go over and speak to him to-morrow?" asked Etiennette.

"I don't want a job. If I take a job I shall have to stay in Paris, and I shan't see you again. I'm going to put on my sheepskin and take my harp, and go first to one place and then to another where you are all going to live. I shall see you all one after the other, and I'll carry the news from one to the other, so you'll all be in touch. I haven't forgotten my songs nor my dance music, and I'll get enough money to live."

Every face beamed. I was glad they were so pleased with my idea. For a long time we talked, then Etiennette made each one go to bed, but no one slept much that night, I least of all. The next day at daybreak Lise took me into the garden.

"You want to speak to me?" I asked.

She nodded her head.

"You are unhappy because we are going to be parted? You need not tell me; I can see it in your eyes, and I am unhappy, too."

She made a sign that it was something else she wanted to say.

"In fifteen days I shall be at Dreuzy, where you are going to live."

She shook her head.

"You don't want me to go to Dreuzy?"

In order for us to understand each other, I made more progress by questioning. She replied either with a nod or a shake of the head. She told me that she wanted to see me at Dreuzy, but pointing her finger in three directions, she made me understand that I must first go and see her brothers and sister.

"You want me first to go to Va.r.s.es, then Esnandes and then Saint-Quentin?"

She smiled and nodded, pleased that I understood.

"Why?"

Then with her lips and hands, and above all with her eyes, she explained to me why she wished this. She wanted me to go and see her sister and brothers first, so that when I reached Dreuzy I could tell her news of them. They had to start at eight o'clock, and Aunt Catherine had ordered a cab to take them, first of all to the prison to say good-by to their father, and then each, with their baggage, to the different depots where they had to take their trains. At seven o'clock Etiennette, in her turn, took me in the garden.

"I want to give you a little keepsake, Remi," she said. "Take this little case; my G.o.dfather gave it to me. You'll find thread, needles and scissors in it; when you are tramping along the roads you'll need them, for I shan't be there to put a patch on your clothes, nor sew a b.u.t.ton on. When you use my scissors, think of us all."

While Etiennette was speaking to me, Alexix loitered near; when she left me to return to the house, he came up.

"Say, Remi," he began, "I've got two five franc pieces. Take one; I'll be so pleased if you will."

Of the five of us, Alexix was the only one who cared very much for money. We always made fun of his greed; he saved up sou by sou, counting his h.o.a.rd continually, he was always very proud when he had a brand new piece. His offer touched me to the heart; I wanted to refuse, but he insisted, and slipped a s.h.i.+ny silver piece into my hand. I knew that his friends.h.i.+p for me must be very strong if he were willing to share his treasure with me.

Benjamin, neither, had forgotten me; he also wanted to give me a present. He gave me his knife, and in exchange he exacted a sou, because he said "a knife cuts friends.h.i.+p."

The time pa.s.sed quickly. The moment had come for us to part. As the cab was drawing up at the house, Lise again made a sign for me to follow her into the garden.

"Lise!" called her aunt.

She made no reply, but ran quickly down the path. She stopped at a big Bengal rose tree and cut off a branch, then, turning to me, she divided the stalk in two; there was a rose on either side. The language of the lips is a small thing compared with the language of the eyes; how cold and empty are words compared with looks!

"Lise! Lise!" cried her aunt.

The baggage was already in the cab. I took down my harp and called to Capi. At the sight of my old suit, he jumped and barked with joy. He loved his liberty on the high roads more than being closed up in the garden. They all got into the cab. I lifted Lise onto her aunt's lap. I stood there half dazed, then the aunt gently pushed me away and closed the door. They were off.

Through a mist I watched Lise as she leaned out of the window waving her hand to me, then the cab sharply turned the corner of the street and all I could see was a cloud of dust.

Leaning on my harp, with Capi sprawling at my feet, I stayed there looking absently down the street. A neighbor, who had been asked to lock up the house and keep the key, called to me:

"Are you going to stay there all day?"

"No, I'm off now."

"Where are you going?"

"Straight ahead."

"If you'd like to stay," he said, perhaps out of pity, "I'll keep you, but I can't pay you, because you're not very strong. Later I might give you something."

I thanked him, but said no.

"Well, as you like; I was only thinking for your own good. Good-by and good luck!"

He went away. The cab had gone, the house was locked up.

I turned away from the home where I had lived for two years, and where I had hoped always to live. The sky was clear, the weather warm, very different from the icy night when poor Vitalis and I had fallen exhausted by the wall.

So these two years had only been a halt. I must go on my way again. But the stay had done me good. It had given me strength and I had made dear friends. I was not now alone in the world, and I had an object in life, to be useful and give pleasure to those I loved.

CHAPTER XX

MATTIA

The world was before me; I could go where I liked, north, south, east or west. I was my own master. How many children there are who say to themselves, "If I could only do as I liked, ... if I were my own master!" And how impatiently they look forward to this day when they can do the things they have longed to do, ... often very foolish things.

Between these children and myself there was a vast difference. When they do anything foolish there is a hand stretched out, and they are picked up if they fall. If I fell I should go down, down, down, and I might not be able to pick myself up again. I was afraid. I knew the dangers that beset me.

Before beginning my wanderings I wanted to see the man who had been so good to me. Aunt Catherine had not wished to take me with them when they had gone to say good-by, but I felt that, at least, I could go and see him now that I was alone.

I did not dare walk across Paris with Capi running at my heels. I was afraid that a policeman would stop and question me. My greatest fear was the police. I tied a string to Capi's collar. I was loath to do this, for I knew that it hurt his self-respect, but it had to be, and in this humiliating manner I dragged him along to the Clichy prison, where M.

Acquin was serving his sentence. For some moments I looked in a sort of fear at the great prison doors, thinking that perhaps once they had closed on me I might not be able to get out again. I found it more difficult than I had thought to get into a prison, but I would not be discouraged. After much waiting and questioning, I was finally permitted to see M. Acquin.

"Ah, Remi, boy, I was expecting you," he said, as I entered the room where visitors were allowed to see the prisoners. "I scolded Aunt Catherine for not bringing you with the others."

I brightened up at these words.

"The children tell me that you are going on your wanderings again. Have you forgotten that you almost died of cold and hunger, my boy?"