Phil, the Fiddler Part 35

"You can't have him, thin!" said Pat "You want to bate him, you murderin' ould villain!"

"I'll have you arrested," said the padrone, furiously, writhing vainly to get himself free. He was almost beside himself that Phil should be the witness of his humiliation.

"Will you, thin?" demanded Pat. "Thin the sooner you do it the betther.

Open the window, Phil!"

Phil obeyed, not knowing why the request was made. He was soon enlightened. The Irishman seized the padrone, and, lifting him from the floor, carried him to the window, despite his struggles, and, thrusting him out, let him drop. It was only the second story, and there was no danger of serious injury. The padrone picked himself up, only to meet with another disaster. A pa.s.sing policeman had heard Mrs. McGuire's cries, and on hearing her account had arrested Pietro, and was just in time to arrest the padrone also, on the charge of forcibly entering the house. As the guardian of the peace marched off with Pietro on one side and the padrone on the other, Mrs. McGuire sat down on a chair and laughed till she cried.

"Shure, they won't come for you again in a hurry, Phil, darlint!" she said. "They've got all they want, I'm thinkin'."

I may add that the pair were confined in the station-house over night, and the next day were brought before a justice, reprimanded and fined.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE DEATH OF GIACOMO

Great was the astonishment at the Italian lodging-house that night when neither the padrone nor Pietro made his appearance. Great was the joy, too, for the nightly punishments were also necessarily omitted, and the boys had no one to pay their money to. There was another circ.u.mstance not so agreeable. All the provisions were locked up, and there was no supper for the hungry children. Finally, at half-past eleven, three boys, bolder than the rest, went out, and at last succeeded in obtaining some bread and crackers at an oyster saloon, in sufficient quant.i.ties to supply all their comrades. After eating heartily they went to bed, and for one night the establishment ran itself much more satisfactorily to the boys than if the padrone had been present.

The next morning the boys went out as usual, having again bought their breakfast and dispersed themselves about the city and vicinity, heartily hoping that this state of things might continue. But it was too good to last. When they returned at evening they found their old enemy in command. He looked more ill-tempered and sour than ever, but gave no explanation of his and Pietro's absence, except to say that he had been out of the city on business. He called for the boys' earnings of the day previous, but to their surprise made no inquiries about how they had supplied themselves with supper or breakfast. He felt that his influence over the boys, and the terror which he delighted to inspire in them, would be lessened if they should learn that he had been arrested and punished. The boys were accustomed to look upon him as possessed of absolute power over them, and almost regarded him as above law.

Pietro, too, was silent, partly for the same reasons which influenced the padrone, partly because he was afraid of offending his uncle.

Meanwhile poor Giacomo remained sick. If he had been as robust and strong as Phil, he would have recovered, but he was naturally delicate, and exposure and insufficient food had done their work only too well.

Four days afterward (to advance the story a little) one of the boys came to the padrone in the morning, saying: "Signore padrone, Giacomo is much worse. I think he is going to die."

"Nonsense!" said the padrone, angrily. "He is only pretending to be sick, so that he need not work. I have lost enough by him already."

Nevertheless he went to the little boy's bedside.

Giacomo was breathing faintly. His face was painfully thin, his eyes preternaturally bright. He spoke faintly, but his mind seemed to be wandering.

"Where is Filippo?" he said. "I want to see Filippo."

In this wish the padrone heartily concurred. He, too, would have been glad to see Filippo, but the pleasure would not have been mutual.

"Why do you want to see Filippo?" he demanded, in his customary harsh tone.

Giacomo heard and answered, though unconscious who spoke to him.

"I want to kiss him before I die," he said.

"What makes you think you are going to die?" said the tyrant, struck by the boy's appearance.

"I am so weak," murmured Giacomo. "Stoop down, Filippo. I want to tell you something in your ear."

Moved by curiosity rather than humanity, the padrone stooped over, and Giacomo whispered:

"When you go back to Italy, dear Filippo, go and tell my mother how I died. Tell her not to let my father sell my little brother to a padrone, or he may die far away, as I am dying. Promise me, Filippo."

There was no answer. The padrone did indeed feel a slight emotion of pity, but it was, unhappily, transient. Giacomo did not observe that the question was not answered.

"Kiss me, Filippo," said the dying boy.

One of the boys who stood nearby, with tears in his eyes, bent over and kissed him.

Giacomo smiled. He thought it was Filippo. With that smile on his face, he gave one quick gasp and died--a victim of the padrone's tyranny and his father's cupidity.(1)

(1) It is the testimony of an eminent Neapolitan physician (I quote from Signor Casali, editor of L'Eco d'Italia) that of one hundred Italian children who are sold by their parents into this white slavery, but twenty ever return home; thirty grow up and adopt various occupations abroad, and fifty succ.u.mb to maladies produced by privation and exposure.

Death came to Giacomo as a friend. No longer could he be forced out into the streets to suffer cold and fatigue, and at night inhuman treatment and abuse. His slavery was at an end.

We go back now to Phil. Though he and his friends had again gained a victory over Pietro and the padrone, he thought it would not be prudent to remain in Newark any longer. He knew the revengeful spirit of his tyrants, and dreaded the chance of again falling into their hands. He must, of course, be exposed to the risk of capture while plying his vocation in the public streets. Therefore he resisted the invitation of his warm-hearted protectors to make his home with them, and decided to wander farther away from New York.

The next day, therefore, he went to the railway station and bought a ticket for a place ten miles further on. This he decided would be far enough to be safe.

Getting out of the train, he found himself in a village of moderate size. Phil looked around him with interest. He had the fondness, natural to his age, for seeing new places. He soon came to a schoolhouse. It was only a quarter of nine, and some of the boys were playing outside. Phil leaned against a tree and looked on.

Though he was at an age when boys enjoy play better than work or study, he had no opportunity to join in their games.

One of the boys, observing him, came up and said frankly, "Do you want to play with us?"

"Yes," said Phil, brightening up, "I should like to."

"Come on, then."

Phil looked at his fiddle and hesitated.

"Oh, I'll take care of your fiddle for you. Here, this tree is hollow; just put it inside, and n.o.body will touch it."

Phil needed no second invitation. Sure of the safety of his fiddle, which was all-important to him since it procured for him his livelihood, he joined in the game with zest. It was so simple that he easily understood it. His laugh was as loud and merry as any of the rest, and his face glowed with enjoyment.

It does not take long for boys to become acquainted. In the brief time before the teacher's arrival, Phil became on good terms with the schoolboys, and the one who had first invited him to join them said: "Come into school with us. You shall sit in my seat."

"Will he let me?" asked Phil, pointing to the teacher.

"To be sure he will. Come along."

Phil took his fiddle from its hiding-place in the interior of the tree, and walked beside his companion into the schoolroom.

It was the first time he had ever been in a schoolroom before, and he looked about him with curiosity at the desks, and the maps hanging on the walls. The blackboards, too, he regarded with surprise, not understanding their use.

After the opening exercises were concluded, the teacher, whose attention had been directed to the newcomer, walked up to the desk where he was seated. Phil was a little alarmed, for, a.s.sociating him with his recollections of the padrone, he did not know but that he would be punished for his temerity in entering without the teacher's invitation.

But he was soon rea.s.sured by the pleasant tone in which he was addressed.

"What is your name, my young friend?"