diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/69064-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69064-0.txt | 3606 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 3606 deletions
diff --git a/old/69064-0.txt b/old/69064-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f51973b..0000000 --- a/old/69064-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3606 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The little acrobat: a story of Italy, -by Janie Prichard Duggan - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The little acrobat: a story of Italy - -Author: Janie Prichard Duggan - -Illustrator: Nana French Bickford - -Release Date: September 30, 2022 [eBook #69064] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by the Library of Congress) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE ACROBAT: A STORY -OF ITALY *** - - - - - -THE LITTLE ACROBAT - -[Illustration: The pale apparition of Natale startled them all. -_Frontispiece._ - -_See page 167._] - - - - - THE - - LITTLE ACROBAT - - A STORY OF ITALY - - - BY - - JANIE PRICHARD DUGGAN - - - _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY_ - - NANA FRENCH BICKFORD - - BOSTON - - LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY - 1919 - - - - - _Copyright, 1919_, - - BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. - - _All rights reserved_ - - Published, September, 1919 - - Norwood Press - Set up and electrotyped by J. S. Cushing Co., Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. - Presswork by S. J. Parkhill & Co., Boston, Mass., U.S.A. - - - - - DEDICATED - TO MEMORIES OF - TWO LITTLE “ANGELICALS” OF ROME - SPOTTISWOODE AND SUSIE - BY - “CUDDIE” - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I ALONG THE WHITE ROAD 1 - - II NONNA 12 - - III IN THE RING 26 - - IV THE FESTIVAL OF SAN LORENZO 39 - - V A GIFT FOR THE CIRCUS 55 - - VI SEPARATION 73 - - VII THE CAGED BIRD OF THE FIELDS 91 - - VIII THE CAGE DOOR OPENED 105 - - IX THE FLIGHT OF THE BIRD 121 - - X ON THE WING 133 - - XI FLUTTERING A LITTLE FARTHER 150 - - XII AT LAST 167 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - The pale apparition of Natale startled - them all _Frontispiece_ - - Mrs. Bishop looked down upon the tent - from the garden terrace PAGE 45 - - The priest led Natale to the other end of - the house “ 94 - - “_Capitomboli_, such as the boy who was - here just now made in the circus at - Cutigliano” “ 142 - - - - -THE LITTLE ACROBAT - -_A STORY OF ITALY_ - - - - -CHAPTER I - -ALONG THE WHITE ROAD - - -THE July sunshine lay hot and golden over the fields of wheat on the -Italian hillsides, and the deep shade of the chestnut woods along the -road was more inviting than the white glare beyond. The sun stood -directly overhead, and along the middle of that white, dusty road there -was not an inch of shadow. - -A small brown house on wheels crept slowly along this sunny way, -drawn by a queer, ill-matched team of three--a plump white horse with -long, silky mane and tail, a large spotted horse with fierce eyes and -nostrils, and a lean, little brown pony, with strangely twisted neck. - -Up and up, always a little higher up, the horses toiled with the -house-wagon, as the road rose into the mountains. From the interior -of the wagon came the sound of voices, mingled now and then with a -complaining note, or an exclamation of pain. The travelers were very -tired, and poor Pietro’s fever was rising with every turn of the wheels. - -Several men and a sturdy girl of fifteen walked beside the horses in -the powdery white dust. Behind the big wagon lagged a boy of eight or -nine years. This was Natale,[1] a slight little fellow, with dusty lean -legs and dragging feet. His light brown hair curled damply about his -sun-browned forehead, and he wore an old, misshapen hat set far back on -his pretty head. His loosely fitting clothes were dingy with dust but -Natale did not mind, for, presently, they would come to Cutigliano, -the old, old town on the mountain side, and there they would camp out -on the soft, green grass. And Natale knew from much experience that -nothing could clean the dust from travel-stained clothes so well as -rolling down the grassy slopes of the chestnut woods, with Niero and -Bianco as companions. - -[Footnote 1: Pronounced Nah-tah´le.] - -Of course the sun was hot; was it not always hot at noon of a summer’s -day in the Apennines? But Niero did not complain, and why should Natale? - -Bianco had tired of trotting along at Natale’s side, and at the last -stopping-place, when Pietro had had a drink of water from the wayside -fountain, the tired little black dog had begged to be allowed to ride, -and had been willingly taken inside the wagon. - -Natale never asked to ride in the wagon, unless he were very tired and -sleepy. They were rather crowded in there even without him, for Pietro -took up a great deal of room, now that he had to lie down all the time. -Besides, the other children, good travelers as they usually were, -sometimes grew quarrelsome and made the mothers and the grandmother -angry. Natale did not like quarreling and loud voices, so he always -preferred his resting times to be given him on the back of one of the -horses. But now Tesoro and Il Duca were tired also, and they were so -near Cutigliano, it did not matter if Natale did lag behind a little, -always with big Niero for company. - -Niero was a large, lean, white dog with a closely sheared body. About -his neck, however, he wore a fluffy collar of long white hair, and -bracelets of the same adorned his four paws, while his long tail ended -in a tuft, having very much the appearance of a dishmop. Why this -white dog should have been named Niero, meaning black, the clown who -had also named the little black dog Bianco, white, could have best -explained. - -By and by, long after the gray church tower had come in sight and the -red-tiled roofs of the town showed bunched together against the green -of the wooded hillside, the travelers reached the arched stone bridge -across the river at the foot of the mountain. Here the wagon made a -halt before beginning the last steep climb to the town. Above, they -could see the stone wall which was the boundary of the road winding by -loops, one above the other, up the mountain side, but the town had now -disappeared from view, so sheer was the rise of the chestnut woods. - -This halt gave Natale time to come up with the wagon, and then he sat -down with a tired sigh on a heap of mending-stones by the roadside, in -front of the wagon door. His legs ached with weariness, but this was -no time to think of riding, as even the women and all the children but -Pietro must alight now, to relieve the horses in the last pull up hill. -Natale watched them descend from the wagon one by one, by the steps one -of the musicians placed at the door. - -First came Nonna, the grandmother of Rudolfo and Tito and the five -other children of the blond acrobat, Antonio Bisbini. She was not -Natale’s Nonna, of course, yet everybody called her Nonna, and why -should not he, who had no grandmother of his own? - -Nonna carried Tito in her arms and led Rudolfo by the hand. Then -came Tito’s mother, the three-months’-old infant, Gigi, in her arms, -followed by Olga, who held little Maria by the hand. Next, Natale’s own -mamá stepped down, glad to stretch her active limbs by walking, after -nursing Pietro for so many tedious hours. Then the rest of Bisbini’s -children scrambled out, aided by the music-man’s helping hands. - -On they went again then, the clown, who was Natale’s stepfather, -walking at the horses’ heads, and cracking his long whip, and -chirruping to them while the other men strode behind the wagon, pushing -upon it with all their might at the steep places in the road. - -The women and children, meanwhile, left the road to climb the short -cuts upward, leading directly from terrace to terrace,--mere paths -paved with rough stones, here and there loosened and displaced by -rushing rain-torrents of the past. The little ones bore the heat and -the roughness of the way without murmuring, being allowed to straggle -along as they pleased, now stopping to gather a red poppy from the -edge of the wheat, now dropping on the ground to search for a briar -afflicting some tired foot. Natale was not the last in the procession -now, for he was anxious to get to the top and see what the tall wheat -and the green slopes were hiding from his eyes. - -At last they reached the wide turn in the road where the wagon must -finally stop, at the edge of the town field. The wagon also came -toiling upward, and now the good horses might rest. So these were -unhitched from the wagon, and while one or two of the men led them -up the steep, paved street into the village to find food and shelter -for them, the others attended to the house-wagon, drawn close against -the low stone wall inclosing the field, placing great stones against -the wheels to steady it in its place. Now was Natale’s hour and the -dogs’, and they understood this as well as he! Over the low wall they -scampered and down on the soft, hot grass they lay, rolling over and -over down the gentle slope of the field until, suddenly, Natale found -himself landing directly upon his feet, with a whirring in his head, -and the sound of distressed barking in his ears. - -The dogs had had the wit to stop on the very edge of a sharp descent -which Natale had not noticed, and now they stood on the bank, -half-a-dozen feet above him, their forefeet firmly planted on the brink -of the grassy precipice, and their tufty tails high in the air, begging -with all their might to know whether their dear little comrade were -hurt. Natale was not hurt, but the jar of the descent gave him a queer -feeling under the waistband of his trousers, and he sat down directly -where he stood, on the lower terrace, turning his back upon the dogs. - -A fringe of bushes threw a narrow band of shade about him from above, -and he made up his mind to stay there till something should be made -ready for dinner. He hoped he would not be wanted to fetch anything -from the village,--he was always fetching something for somebody. He -had heard his mother calling to her husband to bring a little meal for -the polenta,[2] when he should finish stabling the horses, and he knew -there was wine left in the flask in the wagon. - -[Footnote 2: Mush of corn meal.] - -From where Natale sat he could look directly down upon the roof of a -house far down by the stone bridge and could faintly hear the rushing -of the little river Lima over the rocks. Presently he eased himself -out on the grass at full length, with his arms crossed beneath his -head. As he dropped off to sleep, he was thinking how well it was that -there could be no performance in the tent that evening. He was sure -that Arduina would laugh more than ever at his stiff little feats on -the circus carpet if he should have to turn somersaults after the long -tramp. - -Then Natale slept, with the great green mountains closing around him, -and Bianco the black dog and Niero the white keeping watch above his -head from where they had stretched themselves on the edge of the -terrace in the sun. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -NONNA - - -NATALE, as will have been discovered by this time, was an Italian -circus boy, a cheerful, happy little soul, who loved his “profession”, -and whose ambition reached to the giddy height of some day rivaling -even Antonio Bisbini in his wonderful trapeze performances. He loved -everything connected with the life he led,--the long slow journeyings -through his beautiful Italy, the camping out at night along the quiet -roads, the open-air loungings in some village through the sunny days, -until the evening should come and the oil lamps be lighted in the tent, -and the people come crowding in to see Arduina dance the tight rope, -and little Olga do her wonderful turns and twists on the carpet, and -to applaud Antonio and the clown and the horses, and--yes, and himself -too, little Natale, stiff as his short thin legs always were and -hopeless, as Arduina declared, in his bows and scrapes. - -Besides the three musicians, there were two families in the strolling -company. Giovanni Marzuchetti was the clown, also the stepfather of -Paulo, Arduina, Pietro, Natale and little Maria, and husband of Elvira, -the black-haired mother of the five children. This man had no children -of his own but was kind in his rough, clownish way to Natale and the -rest. - -It is not difficult to understand why Giovanni should have married -Elvira and her family, when it was known that the woman brought to her -husband a small fortune in the shape of her own wonderful skill as -a rider of horses, and the little ones as possible acrobats of the -future. They had been married for two years now, and if Giovanni had -counted largely upon his ready-made family for speedy reënforcements -in the “ring”, he must have become a little discouraged even by this -time. It is true that Paulo and Arduina were well trained in the art of -circus acting; but poor Pietro, the middle-sized one, who was twelve -years old, was always ailing and feeble. Sleeping out of doors in the -marshy regions had developed in his system a chronic fever which could -not be thrown off, even with the aid of Nonna’s assiduous doctoring, -and lately the weakness had settled in one leg and foot, threatening -permanent lameness. - -Natale, who came next, was agile enough when running about on his slim -brown legs, but his funny stiff-legged somersaults and awkward antics -in the ring were matters of jesting among the whole troop. Poor little -Natale, who did so wish to be like Antonio Bisbini! - -Lastly there was Maria, who was a mere baby and as yet only just -learning to stand upright on her stepfather’s head. - -But Antonio Bisbini, the father of the other family, was the star of -the little troop of strolling players. Tall and lean and muscular, he -stood six feet two in his sandals. His blond hair and skin and strong, -clear-cut features gave him the look of some stern young Viking from -the cold forests of the North, yet this youthful-looking, ruddy athlete -was already the father of seven young children. - -No one in the company, not even the clown, could hold a candle to -Antonio in looks or in graceful skill. Natale was sure that the noblest -and most beautiful figure in all Italy was that of Antonio Bisbini -as he would step forth from behind the tent-curtain, ready to thrill -the spectators about the ring. The flesh-colored tights clothing his -limbs showed to perfection their symmetry and grace, relieved by the -brilliantly spangled hip garment of black velvet and fringe, while the -proud glance of his gray eyes and the light tread of his feet never -failed to impress the beholder. - -Antonio’s oldest, little red-haired Olga, tumbled and danced with all -a healthy child’s love of activity and applause, and Oh! how Natale -envied her the perfect “wheels” she turned, one after the other with -dizzying swiftness across the dusty strip of carpet in the ring. But -the rest of Antonio’s seven were as yet too small to be useful as -tumblers or dancers, and Nonna’s hands were always full, while their -mother did her daring dances in the air. - -The three musicians, then, and Nonna completed this strolling band of -twenty, with the two horses, the dogs and the twisted-necked pony. Poor -Caffero had grievously hurt his pretty neck one day when very young, -while tied in his stall and leaping to reach his food from a manger -set cruelly high. Since then he had trotted painfully through three -years of going up and down the earth, with his brown head and long neck -twisted far around to one side without the power of righting them. -Caffero would have made a pretty part of the show had not this accident -befallen him. As it was, he was good for little but helping to guide -the house-wagon along the weary roads. Yet every one loved Caffero. - -On the day of the arrival at Cutigliano the two horses Tesoro and Il -Duca were left in their stalls in the village stables during the whole -afternoon, while Caffero was brought down the steep village street -and allowed to graze in the public field. Nonna herself had gone up -for him with Tito in her arms, after the midday meal of polenta, or -thick mush of yellow meal, had been eaten. As the trio passed through -the narrow street of the village, many heads turned to wonder at the -strangers--the gray-haired woman, the bright-eyed child in her arms, -and poor Caffero, who always seemed pulling against the leading rope -and trying to twist his head after something left behind. - -It was while Nonna, a little later, was tying Caffero’s rope to a -tree in the field that she spied the two dogs asleep in the sun near -the edge of the terrace. As Tito recognized them at the same time, -and called them in his baby voice, the grandmother added her summons, -and was rather astonished at their failure to obey. They bounded to -their feet, it is true, but instead of scampering to meet her, they -stood still, quivering with nervous excitement and waving their tails -in much perplexity. Then as Tito began to fret and belabor the air -with his fists, Nonna started swiftly toward the dogs with something -threatening in her gait. - -But where were they, those lazy brutes, which a moment before had -defied her and then had promptly disappeared? A few more hasty steps -brought Nonna near enough to the edge of the descent to see both Niero -and Bianco crouching over Natale on the lower terrace. The boy had been -awakened by the sudden onset of his faithful friends, and lay looking -lazily upward as Nonna and Tito peered over at him. - -“Natalino!” the old woman exclaimed, and, at the word, Natale scrambled -to his feet. - -“I am ready! Where am I to go?” he asked hurriedly, preparing to creep -up the bank. But Nonna only laughed and reached down a helping hand to -the child, as he clutched at the long grass for support. - -“Come and eat your polenta,” she said, when Natale stood at her side, -the dogs panting close by. “I suppose they have saved you a bite. Why -did you run away? Though, as for that, you were not missed in all this -hurly-burly of arriving. Now, Niero, stand on your hind legs and beg. -See, Tito is fretting for you to do it--” - -“But we haven’t a bone or a crust of bread for him, Nonna,” Natale -pleaded. “See how sadly his eyes look at you. Giovanni always gives him -a bone.” - -“There! take to your legs then, poor thing!” Nonna cried in a friendly -way to the hungry dog. “Perhaps to-morrow there will be a bone. Who -knows?” - -Natale ran off toward the wagon, followed by the patient animals, who -perhaps were well assured that he was going to share with them his own -scanty heap of polenta. - -The brown house on wheels leaned slightly inward against the stone wall -for security, as the hill’s incline was steep at this point. The door -opened directly upon the top of the wall, which formed a broad and -convenient doorstep, reached from the ground by a short ladder. About -the wagon and in the field close by everybody was busy. - -The great canvas of the tent had been unpacked from the top of the -wagon, and the two women sat on the ground patching the holes and -thin places worn in it by long use. Some of the men were making trips -back and forth from wagon and field, carrying sections of board for -inclosing the ring. These were to be set up in their places by and by, -when Antonio should have finished marking off the circle on the grass, -with the hole in the center for the tent pole. There was nothing, as -yet, for the children to do but loll in the shadow of the wagon, asleep -or awake, and chatter among themselves. - -As Natale and the dogs drew near, Elvira, the boy’s mother, looked up -from her stitching and clapped her hand to her forehead on seeing them. - -“Natale! I had forgotten the child. Little pest, where have you been, -away from us all, and your dinner? One would think you had friends in -the town and had been taking your polenta in grander houses than ours -here.” - -Natale replied to these mocking words with only a rather naughty shrug -of the shoulders, and went to sit down on the lowest step of the short -ladder against the wall. - -“Give him his polenta, Arduina,” Nonna called shrilly from a little way -behind. “He was asleep, Elvira, all tired out with walking to-day as -much as any man among us. I keep my eyes open. Don’t scold the boy.” - -“One would think my Natale your own grandson, Nonna,” Elvira replied, -laughing good-naturedly. - -“All boys are as her own sons or grandsons,” Nonna’s daughter-in-law -interposed carelessly, as the old woman passed on with Tito, perhaps to -see that Arduina gave Natale his proper share of mush. - -In Nonna’s big warm heart there was indeed room for the sons and -grandsons of those who were too sparing of motherly love and care for -their own. The gray-haired woman had long ago accepted this wandering -life for the sake of continuing near to her only son, Antonio, the -acrobat, and Antonio’s children. When her boy at the age of twenty-two -had given up everything that his mother thought of worth in the -world--home, a decent, quiet life in it, books, school, a career as a -priest--in order to marry Cara, a rosy, lithe-limbed rope-dancer out of -Egypt, he had found that his mother was not going to be given up along -with these. By and by, when the babies began to come every year or two, -Nonna came to be appreciated even by the fantastic daughter-in-law -given her by Antonio, while in the hearts of all the little ones Nonna -was--well, Nonna,--and therefore everything good and patient and sweet. - -It was Nonna who cared for the ailing Pietro, who rubbed Natale’s stiff -ankles and elbows with an ointment of her own invention to limber -them up, who thought to tuck Olga’s long red hair out of the way when -practice time came and the curling locks would have teased the little -face and shoulders turned upside down and hindside before. It was Nonna -who nursed the babies and put them to bed while the mothers rode the -horses in the tent, and Nonna who led the poor pony about to “fresh -fields and pastures new”, and Nonna who instructed giddy-brained -Arduina in the simple mysteries of concocting savory stews out of next -to nothing, and how to make corn meal for ten do service as polenta for -twice as many. The little troop could not have done without Nonna, no, -indeed! - - - - -CHAPTER III - -IN THE RING - - -IT took all of that first day and most of the next to get everything -into shape for an exhibition on the second night after the arrival of -the circus troop at Cutigliano. - -The turf had been removed from the ring, or round space inclosed by the -low panels of wood, and the tent pole erected, by the time the canvas -was mended and the side curtains were ready to be hung. - -The sun was just about to slip over the mountain rim in the west when -everything was done, and it only remained to draw the stout ropes and -hoist the canvas into position. Natale was generally on hand when this -was done, listening for the creaking of the pulley at the top of the -pole, as the dull yellow canvas slowly rose into position, till, all -at once, it spread like a queer, pointed mushroom over the green grass -of the field. - -It was a fortunate thing that there was no wind that first evening, -for if there had been even a stiff breeze there would have been no -performance. A very little wind caught under the canvas spread on that -exposed hillside before it was securely roped into place might have -carried it all away to be stranded in the tops of the chestnut trees -below, and a new canvas for such a _circo_ as that would have cost -certainly three hundred francs. - -When at last the tent was raised, Giovanni hung above the entrance a -broad strip of blue canvas with clowns’ and horses’ heads painted upon -it, and the sign in large letters: “Circo Equestre”, which is Italian -for “Circus with Horses.” - -Lastly, figured curtains of pale green calico were hung around the -little vestibule, so that outsiders who had not paid the entrance fee -might not peep inside and see what was going on, without payment. - -Now all was ready, and it was still early, although almost dark in the -field. Among the mountains, where one lives perhaps at the foot or even -half-way up the slopes, night falls early, because the sinking sun is -hidden from sight over the mountain tops long before it really drops -into the sea behind them. - -Yet it was not quite time to light the lamps inside the tent, as the -performance was not to begin until half-past eight o’clock. Cutigliano -was full of Italians, and a few English and Americans who had left -the hot cities behind, with their churches and picture galleries and -ruins, and had come to the pleasant hotels of the ancient mountain town -to enjoy the fine air and the beautiful chestnut woods during the hot -summer months. These visitors would not be through with their dinners -at the hotels before eight o’clock, while the servants and plain -village folk would find a late hour convenient for coming down the hill -to the yellow tent. - -At seven o’clock, however, the three men, with the big brass horn, the -cornet and the drum, climbed the stony street into the town and made -lively music in the little stone-paved _piazzas_, or open squares, -where the children played in the sunset light. - -By this time everybody in Cutigliano had learned what had been going -on down in the field for the past two days, and many even of the rich -strangers had made up their minds to go to see the show, partly out of -curiosity, partly out of kindly purpose to help the strolling players. -It had been announced that six _soldi_, or cents, would admit to the -side of the ring where there would be benches and a chair or two for -seats, while three cents offered room on the other side with a few -boards and the green grass as accommodation. Visitors were invited to -bring chairs for their sittings, if possible. - -The music sounded very brave and loud as it returned down the very -steepest street of all, which ran between high walls past Madame -Cioche’s English _pension_ or boarding-house and ended in the field. -As this was a dark and even dangerous descent at night for the unwary, -Antonio had driven a nail into a tree at the foot of the street, and -had hung there a smutty tin lamp, with the light flaring and the smoke -pouring from two long spouts. - -Nonna had beguiled most of the children away from the tent by this -time, and was putting the youngest to bed in the wagon, while the -others rolled over the grass behind the tent. - -Natale was as busy as a bee in the small tent which opened out of the -large one. This was the dressing room, and the different costumes of -the actors lay in heaps on the boxes scattered about. - -As half-past eight o’clock approached, the boy became as excited as if -this were to be his first appearance in public, and he kept lifting up -the flap of curtain dividing the two tents to see how fast the seats -were filling. The band had brought back a horde of village children in -its train, and though few of these were possessed of the three cents -charged for children, they served to keep up an appearance of bustle -and enterprise outside, where the band now played the National Hymn of -Italy gaily in the light of the big lamp at the entrance. - -Cara, the mother of Olga and the rest of the seven, stood in the -vestibule and took in the great copper cents which by and by began to -pile up in the bowl on the table. She was a very striking person to -look at, with her coal-black hair frizzed bushily on each side of her -head, with her flashing black eyes and her heavy brows, her red, red -lips and cheeks, and her scarlet and black gown. No one dared to slip -in behind the rustling skirts or portly form of anybody without paying, -for her piercing eyes seemed everywhere. Once or twice, when the crowds -about the doors seemed to hesitate and to wonder whether, after all, -it were worth while to expend six or even three cents for what was to -be seen behind the curtain, the pretty little figure of her Olga was -seen to flit, as if by accident, across the vestibule, the full light -streaming over her little full blouse of yellow satin, and her pink -feet tripping as if on air. - -The anxious half-hour of expectation ended in the sight of a full -circle surrounding the ring, and then the band came inside and all the -performers slipped into the smaller tent and hurried on their costumes. - -The band played on; Arduina danced a measured dance on the tight -rope which was stretched near the ground; the clown made his funny -jokes; Antonio performed his clever feats on the bars; Elvira rode the -galloping horses with Cara dancing in and out and everywhere, while -Giovanni cracked the whip and Paulo held the bar for Il Duca to leap. -The pantomime then brought shouts of laughter and loud hand-clappings -from the spectators; and afterward the tumbling began. - -There was nothing that Olga loved so much, and she showed it in every -line of her chubby, yet nimble little figure as she came prancing into -the ring, and then went heels over head, over and over again, without -stopping to breathe, as far as the strip of dusty carpet stretched. -Then back again she tumbled, only stopping to toss a stray wisp of hair -from her flushed face. - -Next Arduina came tripping in, and over and over she went too, not so -gracefully and daintily as Olga had done, for Arduina was getting a -little too large for that kind of thing,--a great girl of fifteen years. - -The clown followed Arduina, dressed in his clumsy suit of black -and white, and what a farce his tumbling was, to be sure; only the -spectators must have known that he failed in order to make them laugh -at his awkwardness, and make merry they did. - -Somehow Natale never quite enjoyed the laughter which often accompanied -his own performances, and now his time had come. - -“_Ecco!_ Natalino!” called his stepfather, the clown, rushing behind -the curtain all breathless and covered with dust. “Over and over and -over you go, youngster, without stopping to sneeze between!” - -Natale was such a little fellow, so much smaller than Olga even, that -many of the faces outside the ring softened at sight of him, as he -darted out into the light of the lamps and then halted to make his -funny little salute. He was dressed in imitation of the clown, in long -black trousers and a tailed black coat, with a pointed white waistcoat -reaching below his waist. With an earnest seriousness very different -from Olga’s smiling grace, Natale turned his first somersault, paused -on his back, turned another jerkily, while the little boys watching -him hooted, and a ripple of laughter ran around the ring. Back again -he came, however, his thin black legs sprawling in air, and his pale -little face flushing with the exertion. On his feet again, he clapped -one hand to the back of his neck, bobbed his head to the spectators, -and trotted off behind the friendly curtain, satisfied that he had, -at least, done as well as usual, and pleased with the loud clapping -attending his exit. Indeed, there was a clapping and a calling out of -something with laughing voices. - -“_Il picino! Il picino!_”[3] - -[Footnote 3: “The little boy! The little boy!”] - -“You will have to go back, Natalino,” laughed the clown. “Salute them -and stand on your head, boy, but don’t lose it on the way.” - -The music played loudly, and Natale stepped gravely back again, made -his odd little bow, and fell over on his hands as the first step toward -standing on his head. Poor, stiff little legs! It took more than one -effort to throw them into an upright position above his head, but -finally he really did accomplish it, and stood thus several seconds -while the shouting and laughing went on. - -When Natale had disappeared a second time behind the curtain, there -were a few grave faces among the laughing ones looking on. An English -lady whispered to her companion and sighed. - -“The poor little fellow is evidently afraid to disobey that dreadful -clown,” she said. “Did you see how he trembled as the man stood over -him, when he tried to stand on his head? Something ought to be done to -put a stop to this, Betty.” - -“The child looks weak, as if he were not very well fed,” Betty -answered, “but I do not think he looks unhappy. And the clown was -certainly smiling, and seemed to be standing by as if to help the -little boy accomplish his wonderful feat, I thought. Don’t distress -yourself, Aunty. He is just learning, it may be, and they bring him in -to contrast him with that little beauty who turned the ‘wheels.’ Send -the boy some good bread and meat to-morrow, and that will be better for -him than our empty sympathy.” - -But “Aunty” was not satisfied, as we shall see. - -The last act of the evening again brought Natale to the fore. The big -spotted horse, Il Duca, was again brought into the ring, and after he -had cantered gaily around inside the ring many times, to the music of -a schottisch, striking terror to the ladies occupying the front seats, -with their knees pressed against the low barrier, the clown suddenly -called a halt and caught the bridle of the panting steed. Gently the -solemn strains of the “Dead March” sounded through the tent, and Il -Duca fell slowly and painfully upon his knees, and then rolled over -upon the ground, apparently dying. The light dust of the ring stirred -under the beast’s laboring nostrils, and deep groans issued from his -throat, while Giovanni stood mournfully by and the music played on. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE FESTIVAL OF SAN LORENZO - - -SUDDENLY the small black figure of Natale appeared, kneeling at the -horse’s side, although no one had seen him slip in. With his hands -clasped in distress, he lifted his voice in such a disconsolate wail -that even Betty started and wondered if the horse could be really dying. - -The solemn march was still sounding in the tent, and before speaking -the clown gave the spectators full time to take in the tragic tableau. -Then he exclaimed briskly: - -“What are you crying about, boy?” - -“Because our horse is dead.” - -“Do you think he is quite dead, Natale?” - -“Oh, quite,” wailed the child. - -“Get up and feel his pulse, boy. If there is any pulse he is not dead.” - -Natale went nearer and took one of the great hoofs of the horse -fearlessly into his little hands, and felt for the “pulse.” - -“Well, what do you find?” asked the clown impatiently. - -“There isn’t any pulse,” the little fellow wailed again, laying down -the big black hoof with the utmost tenderness. - -“Too bad,” quoth the clown, taking his seat deliberately on the -prostrate horse, which lay as motionless as if certainly dead. Then, -all in a moment, Natale’s manner changed, and he skipped around in -front of Giovanni, remarking glibly that the gentleman had found a -beautiful sofa to sit upon. - -“And I shall have a kiss to prove that the beast is not dead,” -exclaimed the clown, chirruping a little and smacking his lips. And the -great brown head of the horse lifted itself from the dust, the graceful -neck turned, and Il Duca actually kissed his master, then scrambled -hastily to his feet as if glad for that job to be over, while Giovanni -hurried him out of the ring. - -“Such silly jokes!” commented Mrs. Bishop, otherwise Aunty, as the -performance ended, and the rollicking crowd poured out of the tent. -“Think of my having spent two whole hours listening to them, and all -on pins too, for fear that poor, ill-used child should be forced to do -some other unchristian thing.” - -“But, Aunty, what did you expect when you came?” Betty asked -impatiently. “Surely the little show was not bad, and there was -actually nothing but what was quite decent in every way.” - -“I call it ‘bad’ to beat and starve children into turning themselves -into monkeys.” - -“If people would not go to see the ‘monkeys’ it would be stopped,” was -Betty’s retort. - -“Well, I am sure I only went to oblige Mrs. Choky,” Aunty said in an -injured tone. “She said she thought we ought to encourage the poor -people on their first night. But it will be my last night there, as I -shall very soon inform her. ‘Encourage’ them to martyrize that poor -child, indeed!” - -From the first performance in Cutigliano, therefore, Natale’s trouble -began, although he did not know it. Contented and tired he lay down -in his corner of the brown house on wheels and went to sleep, while -the men let down the big yellow canvas of the large tent and furled it -about the pole. But first, he ate his supper of macaroni with the rest -of the actors, gathered in the small tent behind. Midnight suppers were -the rule on the nights when there were performances, as it would have -been at the risk of upsetting their stomachs in more ways than one to -eat food beforehand. - -Later, the stars kept quiet watch above the little encampment, where -even Pietro slept well, with the open house door admitting the fresh -air of the mountains. - -For ten days the yellow “mushroom” spread over the grass of the field, -although very much in the way of the fine city gentlemen, playing -at ball with bats like tambourines. The noisy music at night and -the cheering in the tent may have kept the invalids in the nearest -boarding-houses awake and nervous, and the people at large may have -grown tired of the performances which they soon learned by heart, -but no one felt inclined to hustle the poor people away, and no one -grumbled except Mrs. Bishop. - -There was something pathetic about the clown in his everyday dress, -his gayety and paint all gone and the deep lines of his face showing -too plainly in the garish light of day, as he pottered about the tent, -adjusting ropes, and keeping off the village boys who would throw -stones upon the old canvas, or play hide and seek among the curtains. -It gave one a queer feeling, also, to fancy the drooping figure of -Pietro, with his pure little face like alabaster, a member of the -“wicked circus troop.” - -This child was perhaps twelve years old, and he had the face of an -angel. He had begun to lose his daily feverishness after a week in the -mountains, and was soon able to limp, and later to run feebly about the -field with the village boys. - -[Illustration: Mrs. Bishop looked down upon the tent from the garden -terrace. _Page 45._] - -But Natale, spidery little Natale, interested every one more even than -did Pietro. Yet he looked only an everyday lad during the long summer -days, when he trotted up and down, to and from the town, carrying now -a bowl of this, now a flask of that, but always carrying something. To -most people he seemed as happy as the days were long, just as ready -for a chat with a strange foreigner who might address him in broken -Italian as with old Sora Teresa who sold fruit and vegetables in the -piazza, and who sometimes presented him with a ripe red tomato, or a -slice of melon all green and pink. - -But Mrs. Bishop looked down upon the tent from the garden terrace of -Madame Cioche’s boarding-house every day, and slowly formed a plan for -making Natale’s life happier. Poor little Natale! - -The terrace garden above the field was shaded with plane trees and the -mountain ash, and the grass was soft and richly green. Each afternoon -some of the boarders would gather at the palings on the edge of this -garden and watch the gentlemen playing ball below, and the village boys -imitating Olga and Natale at turning somersaults and wheels. - -One afternoon, while the boarders were drinking tea under the ash -trees, with the berries overhead turning red, and the sun streaming -across the croquet ground, there came a knock at the side door of the -boarding-house. Madame Cioche herself opened the door, and there stood -Natale, smiling up into her face, with the old blue hat set far back on -his dark curls. The lady noticed that the boy’s face was very clean. - -“Happy day to you,” he said brightly, using the peasant form of -address, “and my mamá says will you please send her a cup of tea? She -is feeling ill to-day.” - -Of course Madame Cioche would send the tea, fetching it herself from -the dining room and handing it to the boy. But she kept Natale a moment -to ask how it was that his mamá could possibly like tea. - -“Oh, but she has it every day when we are in Egypt,” was the reply. -“And to-day her head aches. Thank you, Signora.” And Natale went off -down the hill carrying the big cup as carefully as his bowls and flasks -were always carried. - -Mrs. Bishop overheard the word “Egypt” and sighed. - -The next day was Sunday and an important festival, being the day of -San Lorenzo. A great harvest of _soldi_ was expected, as peasants from -all the mountain villages would come trooping in that day, to go to -high mass in the church under the old mountain firs, and to take part -in the procession of the “saints” in the afternoon. So there was, of -course, to be a performance in the tent that day, but in the afternoon -this time, just after the procession, instead of in the evening, when -everybody would be tired or toiling homeward along the dark mountain -ways. As there was nothing for him to do about the tent, however, until -five o’clock should boom from the stone tower of the church, Natale -made good use of his legs during the whole day, for there was much to -see. - -Betty Bishop had tossed a penny into his hands down over the garden -palings that very Sunday morning. Perhaps she was thinking of some -little child at home in England who would be clamoring for a penny -to carry to Sunday school, but Natale had no thought of dropping his -precious two _soldi_ into the priest’s collecting bag in the church. - -The _piazza_ was too fascinating a place to be passed by, when one held -a penny of his own fast in his fist. With the dogs on each side of him, -therefore, Natale spent most of the day above in the town, going from -booth to booth, and in fancy spending his money over and over again. -There were sweets of various kinds offered for sale on the little -tables along the steep, narrow streets, and booths of everything from -coarse stuffs and ready-made clothing to breastpins of gay mosaic work -and filigree rings. - -Everywhere Natale was jostled by the peasants who all through the -morning had flocked to the town, dressed in their best clothes and -wearing holiday looks on their faces. The women and girls wore gay -kerchiefs on their heads, with brilliant borderings and flowing ends, -while even the men wore bits of vivid color in the shape of gorgeous -neck scarfs spread over their white shirt fronts. Mingled with these -walked the lords and ladies of a higher class dressed according to the -fashion plates of Paris, and seeming to enjoy the hot sunshine and the -gay restiveness of the multitude as much as the plainer folk. All day -the frolic and prayers and the music of the town band and the church -organ went on in the little town, till mid-afternoon, when there fell a -hush over all and a great expectation. - -Natale had not a very good place from which to see the procession pass, -for he stood between a very stout peasant woman and a visiting priest -in his full black gown. Still, he managed to peer from under their -elbows without attracting their attention, and he was content, holding -securely in one hand, meanwhile, the balloon whistle which he had -finally purchased with his penny. The pretty red bubble of rubber had -not yet burst, and Natale was happy in its possession. The handful of -crisp wafers flavored with anise seed, which he had almost bought--so -very foolish he had been--would have been eaten long ere this, and it -would be as if he had never had a penny of his own tossed over the -fence to him by a smiling young lady, but now he still had the whistle! - -On they came, the straggling company of men and boys, dressed in white -gowns and cowls, and bearing huge lighted candles in their hands. -Natale thought he would like to have been one of the two boys bearing -the immense candlesticks of brass; yet, after all, the candlesticks -must be very heavy, and they were propped very uncomfortably on the -little boys’ stomachs, and very red and perspiring were the little -boys’ faces. - -Natale thought the men’s feet ugly and clumsy, showing below the white -gowns, and their harsh, chanting voices made him shiver. But he could -not follow the awkward marching steps of the peasants with laughing -looks as some of the onlookers were doing, for here, behind the banners -and crucifixes, came two very curious-looking objects. - -“_Ecco!_ the dead saints!” he exclaimed softly to himself. “How heavy -they must be in the glass boxes on the men’s shoulders. Yet our Antonio -Bisbini would never bend so under a small box as those men do. Ah! -but the little girls are pretty, so pretty in their white veils, and -scattering flowers before the saints.” - -The crowd closed in upon the end of the procession now, and Natale -could see no more, as he was nearly overturned where he stood. After -a breathless moment or two, he found himself left in peace and quiet -under the great old fir trees in front of the church, with the crowd -all gone and Nicro and Bianco with them. - -Nonna had told him to be sure and see the saints, if possible, so he -went into the dark old church and sat down on a low chair to wait for -the procession to return. He knew that San Lorenzo and Sant’ Aurelio -would surely be brought back to spend the night in the church, perhaps -in front of the candle-lighted altar, and he wished to please Nonna. It -was dark and quiet in his corner under the organ gallery, and it was a -very easy and natural thing for a tired little boy to fall asleep in -that quiet place. - -When the procession returned after half an hour, it was without the -blare of trumpets and the crash of organ music, though for a long -while shuffling feet passed in and out. This continued until everybody -had looked at the two saints robed in costly garments and reposing now -at full length on their satin cushions within their caskets of glass -set before the altar. Many touched the rich cloths draping the caskets -with reverent fingers, and pressed kisses on the cold glass before -passing out into the radiant sunset light. - -When Natale waked, the church doors were still open, but only one light -swung before the high altar, and there was no trace anywhere of dead -saint or living soul. He groped his way among the disarranged chairs -and benches quite to the altar rail, but even the empty biers had been -borne away to some inner recess of the church, so, with a dread that -he had overslept awaking in his mind, Natale found his way out of the -church again. - -The purple bloom of evening was creeping up the mountain sides, and a -star glowed in the sky. Just above the mountain line in the west the -crescent moon hovered, as if uncertain over which side to sink. The -dread in Natale’s mind had nothing to do with saints or dark churches. -On awaking, his first sensation had been a fear that he might have -missed the afternoon performance in the beloved tent, and now, standing -outside the church in the dusk, he knew that he had missed it! - -With a sob in his throat he turned his face from the telltale sky, -and fled through the village down to the field. When he reached the -wagon,--for he would not go to the tent, quiet now and unlighted,--the -first words he heard came from Olga: - -“Have you not heard, Natalino? Giovanni has lost a hundred francs! -Somebody stole them when he changed his coat in the little tent. Yes, I -know you were not there! We wondered where you could be!” - - - - -CHAPTER V - -A GIFT FOR THE CIRCUS - - -NATALE held his breath with horror. One hundred francs lost! And he -not at hand to hear of it, to help look for the money, among the very -first? He could not ask Olga how it had happened, because his heart was -almost too disappointed and sore for words. He sat down on the wall, -with his back toward the tent, and waited for her to tell all about the -loss, although he was not at all certain that she would condescend to -do so. In fact, she said not a word more, but stood in front of Natale, -wondering not a little at his unusual quiet. - -“You are sulky!” she exclaimed finally, “and Giovanni is very angry -with you. So am I, for I had to feel Il Duca’s pulse, and I did not -like it at all. Suppose he had kicked me, seeing that it was not you.” - -“Il Duca was dead!” Natale retorted, with a twinkle in his eye, if only -Olga could have seen it. “He would not know you from me!” - -“Dead!” cried Olga. “I believe you truly do think that, when you set up -your crying, Natale; really I did not do it half so well as you,” she -confessed honestly. - -“But you ‘wheel’ much better than I do,” Natale conceded with ready -generosity in return. - -“Il Duca did not shut his eyes at all,” Olga went on, nodding assent -to Natale’s remark, “and I am sure he _winked_ at me, Natale, just to -frighten me. It did not take _me_ long to feel his pulse! But where -were you, Natalino, all the time? Nonna said she was afraid some of the -peasants had stolen you and carried you off, when Niero and Bianco -came home without you.” - -“As if they would have let anybody steal me! Olga, I went to sleep in -the church, waiting for the saints to come back, and when I waked it -was dark, almost as dark as this!” - -“Oho! then you must have been in the church when Arduina and I went -in to look at the saints. Arduina said--but you must not dare to tell -anybody--she said that she did not believe there were any bones under -the saints’ fine velvet robes because San Lorenzo had a hand of pink -wax, and the rest of him looked rather stuffed. But do not tell Nonna, -Natale!” - -“Arduina is very wicked,” said Natale, but he laughed with Olga, and -then felt much better, and as if he could ask about the losing of the -money. - -They were in a little nook to themselves, behind the wagon, and no one -heeded them. - -“_Ecco!_ it was this way,” Olga began, charmed to be the first to -recount the misfortune to Natale, who was usually behind none in his -knowledge of the affairs of the company. “Just when Giovanni was going -in to do the clown in the first dance on the rope, the Signor Barbera, -the stable man, came behind the big tent with his bill for keeping the -horses, and Giovanni took the big pocketbook out of the pocket of his -coat--” - -“Yes, I know which pocket,” Natale interposed. “I saw him put the money -there this morning.” - -“Well, the signor could not make the change, so he told Giovanni it was -all right, and any time would do, and then Antonio rang the bell for -Giovanni, and he just put the pocketbook back in his coat and hung the -coat on the nail in the little tent, and hurried on the black coat, and -went into the ring.” - -“Yes, and then?” asked Natale breathlessly. - -“When he came back, he saw his coat on the ground, and he knew he had -hung it up. ‘How comes my coat on the ground?’ he said, very loud -indeed, and your mamá told him he must have put it there himself. But -he did not hear her, because he was shaking the coat and feeling in the -pocket,--but there was nothing there! - -“We made a great fuss about it,” Olga ended, shrugging her shoulders -and throwing up her hands, “but what was the use?” - -Natale was silent with dismay. A hundred francs meant so much. It was -all that they had made during the ten days’ stay at Cutigliano, and now -it was gone, in a moment. - -“The stable man?” he questioned in a distressed tone of voice, and very -low. - -“No, Giovanni said it could not have been the signor. He is a rich man -and honest, everybody says.” - -So subdued were they all over the trouble of the afternoon that -not even Elvira thought it worth while to scold the quiet boy who -presently slipped in among the little crowd of players in the tent, -deep in fruitless discussion over their grievous loss. They had had a -crowded tent that afternoon, and the receipts had been so good that -this evening would have been one of rejoicing if only the money for -the labors of the ten other days and nights had been again safe in -Giovanni’s pocket. There was not the slightest clew to the thief, as -no stranger had been known to enter the tent, and Giovanni had even -interviewed the Signor Barbera from outside the doorway. It had been -necessary to be on the lookout for possible thieving, as the field was -crowded all the afternoon with strange peasants, attracted by the band -music and the big yellow tent, and by peddlers with their wares. One -very decent-looking peddler had begged pretty, vain Arduina to look at -his beautiful jewelry and ribbons, but she had refused him entrance -very reluctantly, and Giovanni himself had noticed how patiently and -decorously the man had turned away. He had worn a red fez cap over his -long black hair, and his bushy black beard had reached nearly to his -waist. - -“I saw him!” Emilio, one of the musicians exclaimed, “and his legs -were as crooked as Pietro’s, only they bent out at the knee instead of -in!” There was a laugh at this sally, but Pietro frowned and muttered -something about Emilio’s having little right to criticize the legs of -others. - -“I met such a man as I came out of the church in the crowd,” said -Nonna, hastening to speak that a dispute might be avoided. “He walked -very well notwithstanding his poor, bent legs, and he asked me if he -were too late to get a glimpse of the blessed relics. A politer man I -never saw, though Tito was afraid of him, and began to cry when the man -snapped his fingers at him.” - -Poor Natale felt so left out in the cold with this talk that he could -not bear it long, and was just about to creep away, down to his corner -in the wagon, when a strange hand lifted a corner of the tent flap, and -a strange voice inquired for “_Il piccolo Natale_.” - -“Some ladies up at the house there have a little present for you all,” -the black-coated Italian butler of the boarding-house announced, -peering in upon the group gathered about the sputtering lamp inside, -“but they wish to send it down by the boy, Natale.” - -Then Natale was himself again, and without demur or bashfulness -presented himself to the servant. - -“It is well you turned up in time, Natalino,” said the clown, giving -him a little shove toward the dignified butler waiting just outside. -“Perhaps Olga would not have done, in this case. Off with you to the -_forestieri_[4] above!” - -[Footnote 4: Foreigners.] - -Many a boy would have been abashed at finding himself the center of -such a group as awaited Natale in the hallway of the house in the -garden. But Natale was too well accustomed to an array of faces fixed -upon him to make the least show of bashfulness. The lady of the house, -whose pleasant face he knew very well, laid her hand on his shoulder -and asked him kindly in Italian if anything had been heard of the money -lost that afternoon, and her soft, dark eyes looked sympathetically -into his own. - -“No, signora, and my papá says we shall never see a _soldo_ of it -again,” was Natale’s prompt answer. - -“Ask him if they have any idea of the person who stole it,” Betty -Bishop suggested in English, and Madame Cioche did so. Natale’s answer -to this was more expressive than polite perhaps, for without words -he simply raised his shoulders as high as possible, pressing his -elbows against his sides, and spreading his hands wide to indicate the -complete ignorance of his people as to the coward who had taken their -hard-earned money. And the drawn-down corners of his mouth so changed -the expression of his face that one would hardly have known him. - -“Who would have believed the child could make himself so ugly,” Mrs. -Bishop exclaimed. “Have you no tongue, boy, to answer properly?” - -But as English words were far less intelligible to Natale than -Caffero’s whinny, or Niero’s bark, he only looked up into Madame -Cioche’s face and smiled. - -“There! it is a bonny little face after all,” said that lady, “and now -shall we give him the money and send him away?” - -“No, let me speak to him first,” demanded Mrs. Bishop, “and you, Mrs. -Choky, must interpret. Ask him if he likes to be a wicked little circus -boy.” - -“Aunty!” gasped Betty. - -“Never mind, I have a reason for my question, Betty. Hush, what does he -say?” - -“Do you like to play in the circus, dear?” asked Mrs. Cioche’s kind -voice, in Italian. - -Natale’s eyes shone. - -“Ah, yes, signora! And when I am a man, I shall be another Antonio -Bisbini.” - -“He says he likes it very much, Mrs. Bishop,” was the interpretation. - -“Already corrupted, poor boy, and so young!” the old lady sighed, while -Betty laughed outright. - -“Ask him if he would not like better to have some nice clothes, and go -to school, and grow up to be a decent man some day, Mrs. Choky.” That -lady hesitated a little before putting this question into Italian. - -“What does she say to me?” Natale asked, his brown eyes twinkling as he -looked from one to the other, his teeth showing white between his red -lips. Natale’s was a wide, good-natured mouth, very prone to laugh upon -small provocation. - -“She wants to know if you would not like to go to school, and learn to -read and write,” said Madame Cioche. - -“And leave the _circo_?” Natale asked with a gasp. - -“Yes, you could not go to school unless you should stop in one place, -you know.” - -“And not travel about with the horses and wagon any more, and leave -Nonna?” - -“Of course, Natale. But she is only asking you about it, _carino_, so -do not look so troubled.” - -Natale laughed then, and happily. - -“She wanted to find out how much I love the _circo_!” he exclaimed. -“Please tell her, signora. You know, how we all love the _circo_!” - -“I think I do, Natale. He does not want to go to school, Mrs. Bishop,” -turning to the eager old lady, “because he loves his life with the -circus and his own people too much.” - -“And he does not wish to leave his grandmother,” chimed in Betty who -had very cleverly picked up a good deal of Italian during a winter and -summer in Italy, and all grandmothers are Nonnas in that land. - -Mrs. Bishop was silent for a moment, her gaze taking in every detail -of Natale’s little figure standing sturdily before her, dusty shoes, -and rough peasant leggings, velveteen trousers, faded blue blouse, and -rumpled curls, with the old hat held in one sun-burned hand. His face -was not so clean as usual now, and there were tired circles about his -eyes. It had been a long, exciting summer’s day. - -“Children--especially boys--do not know what is best for themselves,” -she said presently, bending her brows, but not in the least frightening -Natale, “and I am not going to give up my plan, for this baby’s -nonsense. Why, he cannot be over eight years old, at the most.” - -“Here, Natale,” said Madame Cioche, judging that the interview might -well be concluded, and handing the boy a small packet. “Take this to -your papá, and tell him that the ladies and gentlemen in my house have -heard of the loss of the money, and are sending him thirty-five francs -as a little present. Can you carry it safely?” - -Again Natale’s sweet smile broke over his face, but he only nodded -happily in reply, tucking the money away in the bosom of his blouse. - -“Ask him how long they are going to stay,” Mrs. Bishop called after -Madame Cioche, who was going to the gate with Natale. - -“He says that the _sindaco_--the mayor--has offered them the use of the -field for another week,” Madame Cioche said, her eyes glowing, as she -returned to the hall. “I am glad of that, as the poor creatures will -need all they can make here, now.” - -“I call it a sort of punishment, their losing the money when playing on -Sunday,” Mrs. Bishop said severely, and one or two other English ladies -nodded their approval of this speech. “And I think the whole business -wrong and that it ought to be discouraged. I was not at all sure about -the propriety of giving my francs to your little collection, Mrs. -Choky.” - -“Would it have been more Christian to have let them suffer, perhaps for -food, and the poor beasts too?” the hostess asked, pausing on her way -through the hall. - -“But surely you think circusing wrong and _un_christian?” the -disputative old lady exclaimed. - -“Aunty, do be quiet,” cried Betty warmly. “I am sure you ought not to -dispute ‘on Sunday’! Besides,” she added, as everybody laughed, and two -or three softly applauded, “they make their living that way, and we -cannot change them into farmers, or preachers. But I think it is always -wrong not to help honest people who are in trouble.” - -“If they _are_ honest,” Mrs. Bishop remonstrated, but under her breath, -this time, for Madame Cioche’s eyes were sparkling, and she seemed -waiting to speak. - -“Those poor creatures down there deserve nothing but praise,” she said -stoutly; “they are quiet folks, who teach their children obedience and -keep themselves remarkably clean and mended. If they make their living -in a way we do not approve, we cannot change them, as Miss Betty says, -but we can feed them when they are hungry, and that seems to me not -‘unchristian’!” - -“I am afraid she has a little temper,” said Mrs. Bishop, as their -hostess went upstairs. - -“A temper I like!” exclaimed a gentleman who had before kept silent, -looking up from his book. “But do you still think of carrying out your -plan, Mrs. Bishop?” - -“If possible, certainly,” was the reply, while Betty, shaking her head, -walked out into the garden. There, under the stars, she stood looking -down upon the tent in the field. There was no wind, and the heavens -were fair, so the canvas had not been furled. - -“I should like it myself,” she murmured. “What a fascinating life to -live! Camping out the year round in Italy, with no troublesome dressing -four times a day, no tiresome _table-d’hôte_ dinners at night. But -after all I should not like to be that girl,--Arduina, they call her. -Of course, Aunty is right about the rope dancing and other ‘circusing’ -on Sunday, only she need not be quite so fussy over what we certainly -cannot help. Poor Natale! how disturbed he did look when Madame Cioche -asked him about going to school!” - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -SEPARATION - - -NATALE lay flat on the grass, his face hidden on his arms, and his feet -rebelliously kicking the ground. The added week granted by the mayor -had passed, and the circus-wagon was about to move on. - -“You are only to try it, child, and if it will not do, you can come -back to us. One year is not a hundred.” - -No reply from Natale. - -“You ought to think, sometimes, of how many mouths your stepfather has -to fill,” another voice began. “Five children, and not one his own.” - -“Why did he marry us then?” fiercely muttered Natale, but without -lifting his head, so perhaps nobody heard. - -“You will have new clothes and shoes!” - -“And a new hat, Natalino!” - -“And you will learn to read much faster than I can teach you ’Lino, -with all the practicings and the journeyings. Perhaps you will even -learn to be as clever as my Antonio was, before--” Nonna ended with a -sigh instead of more words. - -The women and girls were in the side tent, busied about dinner, and -Nonna would not finish her sentence in the presence of Antonio’s wife. - -“I would rather be our Antonio than--than the King or the -_principino_,”[5] Natale cried helplessly. Then he sat up on the worn -grass, and faced them all, tearful but resolute. “I shall not stay here -with the priest and go to school, mamá,” he said earnestly. “You shall -not leave me behind and take Maria and Pietro and the rest.” - -[Footnote 5: Young prince.] - -“Perhaps we can persuade Giovanni to leave little Bianco with you, if -the good priest does not object,” Nonna whispered in his ear. - -“No, I shall go with you,” returned Natale. - -“Ah! what is all this?” came suddenly in Giovanni’s gruff, good-natured -tones. “What? Natale will not stay? The beautiful little star of the -ring will not leave us in the darkness?” And the clown entered the tent -and flung himself down, laughing, beside the little boy. - -“Hurry with the polenta, Arduina,” he called to his stepdaughter, who -had lifted her hot face from the steam of the mush pot to laugh at the -man’s rough wit. “The biggest hole yet torn in the tent must be mended -this afternoon, and the canvas is almost dry now in this wind. If it -had not rained yesterday, and if the wind had not played us such a -trick on the very eve of our going, we should have made our fortunes -yesterday. A cattle fair does not offer itself every day, with its -crowd of country bumpkins who never saw a man in tights. Now, that will -do, Natale,” turning to the boy, who was sniffing audibly. “Hours ago -it was all decided, and there is nothing more to be said.” - -“Then I am _not_ to stay in this horrid place, Giovanni--papá--” - -“‘Giovanni--papá--!’ No more of these tears, Natalino. You are to stay -in this beautiful place, and after polenta, you are to go up to the -garden and thank the lady.” - -With a loud, rebellious howl, Natale sprang to his feet and rushed -out into the open air. Nor did he stop until he stood among the briar -bushes below the garden palings. Clenching his small grimy fists, he -stood there looking up toward the many-windowed _pension_ and shook -them vehemently, while his shrill voice cried out passionately: - -“I shall not stay here! I shall not go to school! I like my old hat, -and I want Nonna to teach me to read. I shall never thank you, _never_, -NEVER, NEVER!” - -He had seen no one in the garden, and was only addressing the whole -houseful of his enemies up there in the big yellow building with the -staring windows. Why should they interfere with him? Why should any one -be trying to make him wretched,--the most wretched boy in all Italy? - -“Heyday! what’s all this about?” and a white-haired old man, speaking -from the garden, came close to the palings and looked over at the -small, threatening figure among the bushes. “I cannot understand your -gibberish, if you are talking to me. You would better go away now, -little boy, or some of your people will come and whip you.” - -“How suddenly you stopped the noise, Mr. Grantly,” exclaimed Betty, -coming up to his side. “Who was it? Why, Aunty’s little protégé, -Natale! How pitiful he looks, walking away as if his feelings were -hurt. You must have frightened him.” - -“Not a bit of it, ma’am. He frightened _me_ with his fierce little -voice. It came suddenly, just as I was dropping off to sleep in my -chair. It is a relief to have them moving on this afternoon, with -their horns and drum. But that boy stays, some one tells me. Is it -possible that the family agreed to give him up? I have understood that -the Italians cling to each other as much as even we do in America or -England. Do they really leave the child?” - -“For more money than he could ever bring them by his somersaulting, -yes,” Betty answered. “Sometimes I think Aunty really does not know -what to do with her money,” the girl went on confidentially to the -old gentleman, who was listening with interest. “Now, that boy has no -desire to be taken away from ‘the evil life he is leading’ in Aunty’s -estimation, and he does not wish to be sent to school and become ‘a -decent man.’” - -“Ah! tell me the whole plan, now. I heard something of it a few days -ago.” - -“It is very simple--all but getting Natale to agree to being imposed -upon,” Betty went on a little vexedly. “Aunty has had the stepfather -and the mother up here several times this past week to be talked to, -and an old woman who seems to be the grandmother of them all. Miss -Lorini has done all the interpreting, and also saw the priest about it, -as Madame Cioche would not. They have agreed to leave Natale here for -one year; he is to be taken care of by the priest’s mother, and to be -sent to school and made ‘decent,’ poor little fellow.” - -Mr. Grantly laughed, but said nothing, for his heart was still young -and understanding of boyish hearts, if his head was white, and he felt -a wise interest in Mrs. Bishop’s philanthropic scheme. - -“Aunty is to pay everything, and she says she thinks she knows now why -all the hotels up at Abetone were full so she could not get a good -room there for these three weeks. She finds that she was ‘ordained’ -to rescue a boy from his persecutors, as she persists in calling -the circus men. It is supposed, I believe, that all little boys and -girls of circuses have been stolen from kind parents, and if not are -half-killed with cruelty by their own.” - -“You speak very warmly, young lady,” Mr. Grantly remarked, a little -reproof in his tone. “There is no doubt that many such children do -suffer and are very unhappy.” - -“Those certainly do not!” retorted Betty, pointing to a number of the -circus children frolicking in the field with Niero and Bianco. Olga’s -red cotton dress was flitting over the grass, and her merry laugh was -echoed by the other little ones, as Niero finally caught her red skirts -in the chase. - -“Of course the clown objected at first,” Betty continued, “but Aunty -was more determined than he and soon proved to him that it would be -worth his while to agree. The old lady, whom they call Nonna, was -curiously anxious for Natale to have a chance at schooling. I wondered -at that till I heard about her son.” - -“Yes, I know,” Mr. Grantly assented. “Some, however, would think he -had made a very fair exchange in giving up the future of a priest for -the easy, out-of-doors life of an acrobat. There is no accounting for -tastes, though. And is this boy to be made a priest?” - -“Only let my Aunty hear you say that!” laughed the girl. “No, indeed, -but the priest was the only one who would agree to be troubled with -the child, after Miss Lorini had explained all Aunty’s conditions--how -Natale was to have a cold bath every morning, meat to eat every day, -and new shoes as soon as his old ones come into holes. The priest, -too, has agreed to write a letter to Aunty every month to tell her of -Natale’s progress--” - -“Toward growing into a ‘decent man’?” interposed Mr. Grantly. “Well, I -hope the plan will work well for all parties. Few Italian peasant lads -get such a chance.” Then the old gentleman went back to his chair to -continue his nap. - -All that afternoon, until four o’clock, there was an unusual bustle -going on about the little encampment. The tattered, damp, half-ruined -canvas was rolled up and packed along with poles and planks and ropes -on a small cart hired for this occasion, while the cooking utensils -and the scant furniture of the tents were gathered together for -conveyance in the house-wagon. It was a cold and dreary day, following -the night of stormy wind, with the clouds settling close about the -mountain tops and the wind sweeping down the valley wet with rain. And -in the heart of Natale there was even less promise of sunshine. He sat -apart from the others on the damp wall, frowning and sullen. - -Half an hour before, he had been almost forcibly dragged up the hill -to the house in the garden by Giovanni, who had made little jokes to -hide the sulkiness of the boy’s replies to the questions of the ladies -gathered there. Madame Cioche had promptly hidden herself when she saw -the green gate open and the pair coming in, but the clown had walked -directly through the hall and up to the little table where Mrs. Bishop -sat taking her tea. - -No command of Giovanni nor persuasion of Miss Lorini, who was an -artist, could induce Natale to say: “Thank you, signora, for your -kindness.” His revolt had been beforehand hushed into silence by some -very plain threats of punishment by his mother, but nothing could make -him say that he was glad to stay in Cutigliano and go to school every -day. - -He stood before them all, miserable as a child could be, his face very -clean and pale, and a new pair of shoes already upon his feet. They -pinched his toes woefully, but his heart ached more than his feet. - -“You will love the signora very much, some day, when you are a man -and remember how good she was to the poor little boy who knew nothing -but how to turn somersaults,” Miss Lorini had said caressingly in her -softest Italian, studying the piteous face meanwhile with an eye to -painting it some day, when it should smile again. - -“I shall learn to do something besides the _capitomboli_,[6] when I -am a man,” Natale had said eagerly. “I shall be like our Antonio some -day.” Perhaps these foreigners would be willing to leave him in peace -if he could convince them that he _wished_ to be a strolling player all -his life. - -[Footnote 6: Somersaults.] - -“He speaks as if he does not exactly understand,” said Miss Lorini, -looking at Giovanni inquiringly. “Does he not know that he is to give -up the circus now?” - -Giovanni shrugged his shoulders, then shook Natale’s slender shoulder, -muttering: - -“No more of your silly talk, boy!” Then louder, “If you will not thank -the lady, I do, with all my heart.” And with that he bowed low, then -pushing Natale before him, went quickly away. He was, in secret, rather -sorry for the boy, who had never before given any trouble with foolish -willfulness, and who had moreover such high ambitions! It did seem a -stupid life to which they were leaving the poor child, but then there -was to be considered the roll of money already sewed into his own -belt, with more to accumulate there, if Natale should be left still -another year with the priest Luigi. If rich _forestieri_ had nothing -else to do with their money but give it away in this frantic fashion, -the stepfather was not unwilling to share the bounty, and Elvira, the -mother, had seemed not to mind. - -So now Natale sat alone on the wall, feeling very much out of it all, -and longing to hear some one say, “Natalino, do fetch me this”, or -“Carry that”; but no one said anything of the kind. They seemed to feel -that he was no longer one of them, and his little heart swelled to -breaking. - -He was too young to long harbor ill-will and of too sunny a spirit -to sulk for many minutes at a time, so presently he slipped off the -wall and ran to meet Olga, who was struggling over to the traveling -house-on-wheels, dragging two stools behind her. The very last things -were being done, and already the horses were standing by, ready to be -hitched at the last moment. - -“Do let me carry the stools, Olga,” Natale pleaded with unwonted -entreaty in his voice. “Well, one of them, then.” - -“I am sorry you are going to stay behind here, Natalino,” the little -girl panted. “Why do you? I should run after the wagon if I were you!” - -Natale had never thought of such a simple thing to do by way of escape! -He promptly set down the stool he had grasped and looked fixedly away -from Olga’s red-brown eyes. - -Alas! in that critical moment, what did he see approaching from the -village? The flat, broad-brimmed hat and flowing black skirts of a -priest, descending the street and turning in at the field! - -There was then not a moment to be lost! Forgetting Olga and the heavy -stools, Natale turned and fled, away--anywhere--out of sight of the -jailor advancing. Everything flashed out of his mind except the impulse -to escape, to hide himself from those searching eyes under the felt hat -brim. His flying feet skimmed across the field, and when they had borne -him out of sight down the nearest slope, Natale flung himself on the -ground under a thicket of thorny blackberry bushes. - -He lay there for what must have been a long time, for, after a while, -a sudden shower of rain swept down the valley and for a few minutes -enveloped everything in a gray mist. Even after it had passed, Natale -delayed returning to the wagon until the priest should have quite gone, -in despair of capturing his prisoner. When at last he did venture -forth, and crept to the upper verge of the slope, his first glance was -across the field for the brown wagon. - -It was not there! - -He set out in a headlong run for the place where it had stood. There -was nothing left--absolutely nothing. Only a priest sat quietly waiting -in a gap in the wall. - -Natale, with eyes only for the deserted spot, came stumbling upon the -man, without so much as seeing that he was there, and then the priest -rose, and taking the boy’s hand, spoke with the utmost quietness. - -“Come home with me now, Natalino,” was what he said, and Natale heard -as one hears dream voices. - -Poor child! If he had only listened, he might have heard the dull -screeching of the brakes as the wagon crawled carefully down the hill -toward the arched bridge, and it would have been an easy matter to -snatch his hand from the limp grasp of the priest and go hurrying down -the short cuts in pursuit. But his head seemed so full of a hundred -roaring noises that he could not hear, and his heart beat so fast that -he could not speak, and so up the hill he went at the priest’s side. - -Nor did he see the quiet smile upon Luigi’s shaven lips, as they passed -the green gate of the garden where Betty stood peering through. She -would not have spoken to the boy just then for all the world, and as -for Madame Cioche, she could not have done so if she had wished. She -gazed down from her latticed window, her bright eyes dimmed as they -fell upon the little caged bird of the fields fluttering by. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE CAGED BIRD OF THE FIELDS - - -THERE is a short, crooked street in Cutigliano, which leads back of the -church and out upon the promenade of San Vito. This street is confined -on either hand by stone houses and stone walls of gardens, and paved -with large square stones. Here and there a gateway gives a peep at -lapping hills across the river. The massive church tower rises directly -from a narrow turn in this street, and when the bells ring down from -the arches in the top of this tower, the stony street reverberates with -a deafening clamor. - -By the time the priest and Natale reached the foot of the church tower, -the boy was weeping bitterly but quietly. His one free arm hid as much -of his face as possible, and his feet in the clumsy new shoes stumbled -so helplessly that Luigi had some trouble in preventing his falling. - -As they had passed through the town, where everybody sat at their doors -or lounged in the _piazza_, all had recognized the little acrobat, as -Natale realized only too well. Many accosted him in wonder, and some -would even have stopped him to inquire into his misfortune in being -left behind by his family. But the young priest motioned such away -with authority, silencing with a gesture of his long finger the too -curious. Others had already learned how it had come about that Natale -was to spend a year with Sora Grazia, and her son the priest, and these -contented themselves with shrugs and smiles for the boy’s companion, as -who should say: “We wish you well of your bargain, Signor priest.” - -The great hands of the church clock pointed to ten minutes of four, -as the bell boomed the hour of six. No one, however, ever thought of -consulting the huge figures painted on the stone face of the tower -clock, for those long iron hands had not stirred for many a day. - -The deep sound of the bell struck so suddenly upon Natale’s ears that -he started, and dropping his arm from before his eyes, gazed dully -ahead. It was not often that he had strayed farther than this corner of -the old church, and he had never followed the San Vito promenade to the -end. Most of the town was left behind now; whither could this man be -taking him? - -A row of houses with numbers in blue figures on one side of the lintels -extended back of the church, but before none of these did Luigi pause. -Next came a low, broken wall, and then a house, detached from its -neighbors and with a long, sloping roof, covered with slabs of slate. -This house had no door opening on the street, and in the blank front -wall there was only a very small window at one corner close under the -eaves. Over a door in the end of the house nearest the church there was -a small crucifix in carved stone set into the wall, but this door was -seemingly closed and unused. - -The priest led Natale a few steps farther, to the other end of the -house, and then they left the street and entered a long balcony leading -to a wide-open door. - -A middle-aged woman sat just inside this doorway at the foot of a -flight of stairs leading up into the room under the roof. She wore -a kerchief of red and black cotton over her head and tied in a knot -under her chin, and her eyes were bent upon a coarse piece of mending -occupying her work-worn hands. - -[Illustration: The priest led Natale to the other end of the house. - -_Page 94._] - -At Luigi’s heavy step on the stone flooring of the balcony, she -lifted her face to his and something like a smile softened the -expression of her stern features. Her black brows unbent and she made -way for her son to enter by twisting her stool slightly and shifting -her feet. Luigi passed by her and took up his stand in the gathering -gloom of the little passage, his eyes fixed warily upon Natale. The -little boy had released his hand from the priest’s outside the door, -and now stood leaning against the railing of the balcony, staring -frowningly at the woman. - -“You are content to have it over with, Gigi?” the mother asked, -glancing from man to boy and back again. - -Luigi nodded his head. - -“Give him something to eat and put him to bed,” he counseled in a low -tone, “and do not argue with him to-night. To-morrow the sun will shine -and he will begin to forget.” - -Natale’s sharp ears caught every word, stolid as he looked. “Forget?” -What did they think he would forget? Not Olga’s last words, certainly: -“I would run after the wagon, if I were you.” - -But, _why was he not running now_? No door, as yet, kept him prisoner. -There was the empty street. Below ran the long, long white road. The -night was coming down, and he was not afraid of the dark. Once out -of sight, around one of the loops of the road, it would take but a -moment to slip off the heavy shoes with their soles half an inch thick, -and then on and on in the cool darkness he might run on light bare -feet--“after the wagon.” - -He thrilled with the thought as it flashed through his mind, but a -flash of the same thought thrilled Sora Grazia at the same time, for -just then she leaned forward and laying her hand on Natale’s arm, she -drew him to her side. - -“Once I had a curly-haired little boy of my own,” she said with a -serious smile, “but after a while, he grew to be a man, and now he has -brought to me another little boy. Natalino, I hope you will be as good -a boy as my Gigi ever was.” - -Natale gazed earnestly into the woman’s face. - -“I am not at all good, signora,” he said unsteadily, and he could not -help the stirring of hope in his heart, with this confession, but Sora -Grazia only smiled again and tapped his cheek, and said that perhaps -the good Luigi would teach him to be good. - -And there was no more opportunity left Natale for running away, for he -was presently led into the kitchen where he had to sit and watch Sora -Grazia prepare the macaroni for supper. He was hungry enough to enjoy -a plateful of this but the slip of boiled beef served him on a clean -plate afterward could not be choked down. He had overheard some one in -the tent--could it have been only that very day?--say that he was to -have meat every day in his new home, and his sister, Arduina, had added -that she wished _she_ were sure of getting a morsel three times a week. -Had not a doctor in Sicily said that she must have all delicate and -nourishing food? And what were dry bread and sour wine as substitutes? -No, Natale could not eat the meat that night. Happily the plate of -macaroni had been generous, and what in all the land of sunny Italy is -so filling as a plate of macaroni? - -The valley looked dismally dark that night, as Natale crept from his -little trestle bed and crouched on the brick floor at the window, -after he was supposed to be asleep. He was to share the priest’s attic -chamber, and a few moments before Sora Grazia had carried away the -candle. He peered out between the flower pots on the window ledge -and again wondered in his childish way why anybody in the big world -outside should have troubled to make him miserable. - -He was very sure that he had done nothing to harm the foreign lady -with the spectacles. Once he had laughed when she had sneezed many -times very loudly, in crossing the field near him, but he was sure no -one had heard him, for he was lying on the ground and had buried his -face in the grass. The pretty signorina with her had laughed too, and -said something in their strange language which the lady had answered -by another loud sneeze. Besides this, there was absolutely nothing he -could have done to provoke any of the people in the garden. Yet, here -he was being punished! - -The thought of Sora Grazia oppressed him, her serious face and her -high hopes of his goodness. The house, too, was quieter than any place -he had ever known,--he who had been used to few roofs save those of -the caravan and tent. There were no children about, and there was no -sound inside of crying, or laughing, or singing, or whistling. It was -almost as bad as having to live in a solemn church when the candles -are all out and the crowds are gone, and one feels, in the dimness and -silence, as if something were coming up stealthily behind one to scare -one’s wits away. It is all very well to rest for a minute in a cool -church, out of the glare of the sunlight, when one may run out again at -will, free as a wild bird or butterfly. But to have to stay, night and -day, for a whole year in such a place! Natale shuddered, for this was -just the way in which the awful quiet of the little stone house of the -priest affected him. - -When Luigi came up to bed, hours later, he lifted the sleeping boy from -the bricks at the window and covered him up snugly in bed. - -“My mother thinks we can do it,” he muttered to himself, as he threw -off his black gown. “I shall do my part, but I am not sure they have -done a wise thing.” Then he sighed a little. Perhaps he was wishing -that he could be a little boy again, with the wide, wide world before -him, and no one to interfere with his choice of a career,--free to be -acrobat or priest, but always to have his own choice. - -With the passing of the first night all idea of running away seemed -to have left Natale’s mind, and Sora Grazia was at first delighted to -find her charge as submissive as a lamb to all her arrangements. After -the first day or two, however, it became not quite so comfortable to -see the little boy sit immovable for hours at a time, on the floor of -the balcony, gazing down into the valley where the river ran merrily -over the rocks. She would even have preferred to rebuke the child -for something a little more outrageous than his listless torpor. She -herself had to eat the meat prepared for Natale, if she would not see -it wasted, for Natale could not touch it, nor would Luigi, her usually -tractable son. - -The young priest was no less puzzled over Natale’s conduct than his -mother was. The schoolmaster reported to him that the boy held his -little paper-covered spelling-book before his eyes with the utmost -diligence, and really seemed to try to remember the letters as they -were pointed out to him with patient repetition, but that he might as -well have been gazing off into the valley instead, for all the good the -pages did him, and Luigi believed it. - -The other boys tried to lure him into their games and to practice his -funny _capitomboli_ but he would only sit quietly by, on the stone -steps of the church, watching them till playtime was over, when he must -sit up on the bench in the schoolroom again and hold his book before -his eyes. - -“He cannot keep up his sulking forever,” Sora Grazia said on the -sixth day of Natale’s stay with her. Luigi was standing near her in -the balcony, brushing the dust from the skirts of his long gown, which -he shook vigorously with his strong hands, as his mother continued, “I -confess that I am surprised he has taken things so quietly.” - -“A little too quietly!” muttered Luigi into the folds of his gown. - -“But now, one would like to see him brighten up a little instead of -glooming over his food and everything else,” Sora Grazia went on. -“He is not the same child he was a week ago, making his ridiculous -_capitomboli_ over the circus carpet. I wonder if he could turn a -somersault now, Luigi.” The woman lifted her head from her work to look -over at Natale, who sat on the low street wall with his feet dangling -into the road. - -“I gave him leave to go and play with the boys down in the field, this -afternoon,” said Luigi, shaking his gown almost viciously. “He said he -did not wish to go where his tent had been, and that he never expected -to turn a somersault again.” - -“Impertinent!” exclaimed Sora Grazia. “We’ll let him alone a while -longer, and he’ll come all right. A child cannot sulk forever, as I -said before.” - -“But one can die of starvation and homesickness, perhaps,” quoth Luigi, -stepping past his mother and springing up the stairs, his gown upon his -arm. - -Grazia’s retort was stayed upon her lips by what she now saw passing in -the street. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE CAGE DOOR OPENED - - -NATALE, too, was looking up, but only dully, as a party of ladies and -gentlemen sauntered toward him laughing and talking gayly as they came. -Many such groups had passed him already, taking afternoon strolls -toward the beautiful promenade of San Vito leading around the mountain -side. But this particular group paused, when a spectacled old lady -did, and all gathered about Natale, except the white-haired gentleman -standing a little aloof and tapping the paving stones with his stick. - -“Why haven’t you been to see us, Natale Marzuchetti?” Miss Lorini asked -cheerfully in Italian. “Mrs. Bishop was sure you would come.” - -“He does not look like the same child!” whispered Betty to her aunt, -who now pushed forward. - -“Ask him if he is a _smart_ boy in school, and if he is not _glad_ to -be dressed so decently and to be learning something _useful_,” Mrs. -Bishop said hurriedly to the Italian lady, all of which was repeated to -Natale in his own language as was requested. But Natale only shook his -head slowly and wistfully. - -“You used to talk fast enough!” Mrs. Bishop cried impatiently. “Look,” -she went on, pointing to the next house, a little farther on, “don’t -you see that white stone in the wall? The words on it tell about a man -who was born there, two hundred and fifty years ago, who was so good -and useful that the people here put his name up there that he might -never be forgotten. What’s to hinder there being a stone put up on -this house, to tell about little Natale who was only a poor circus boy, -but who came to live here when he was eight years old and became a very -useful and good man? Tell him, Miss Lorini, just what I say!” And Mrs. -Bishop pointed from the memorial tablet in one house to the blank front -wall of the other, while Luigi, peering out of his window between the -flower pots, dodged behind a tall geranium, and hoped the sharp eyes of -the old lady were not searching for him. - -Natale listened gravely to Miss Lorini’s communication, his eyes -passing carelessly from the memorial tablet to the wall of an opposite -house. - -There was a rude painting on this wall of a Madonna holding a baby -in her arms, and it was protected from the weather by a shallow arch -of masonry. As Natale looked at the picture, he was reminded in some -mysterious way of Nonna, who was never without a child in her arms, -unless she were bending over a fountain washing the children’s clothes. -A new look sprang into his eyes. - -“Our Antonio had _his_ name printed in Egypt and in Turkey and in -Greece!” he answered proudly, for the first time opening his lips. “I -would rather be like that than have my name cut here on the priest’s -house!” - -“Good for the little chap,” cried the gentleman softly. He had -understood what the shrill little voice said. - -“Printed on what, child? What was ‘our Antonio’s’ name printed on, in -all those places?” Miss Lorini asked. - -“On paper, of course,” answered the child simply. “And there were -pictures of him too, all red and yellow and blue, performing on -the bars. Everybody in the streets was looking at his name and the -pictures.” The little fellow’s face was glowing as he spoke of his -friend, and Miss Lorini had not the heart to translate his words to -Mrs. Bishop, who could hardly have passed them by calmly. - -“But you are content here?” Betty managed to ask in intelligible -Italian. - -The shadow fell again over Natale’s face, and his figure visibly -drooped. He did not pretend to answer her question. - -“Oh, Aunty, let him go back to his people,” Betty pleaded, seeing the -change. “Anybody can see that he is miserable. He is too little to be -made to suffer.” - -“He is too little to suffer long,” Mrs. Bishop replied calmly, with but -one thought in her mind, of course. - -“Poor little Egyptian!” sighed the gentleman. “He was born in Egypt, -was he not, Miss Betty?” - -“At Port Said, yes, and Pietro in Tunis they say.” - -“Well, be a good boy, Natale,” said Mrs. Bishop, patting his head, in -its new cap. “Then you will be happy. In a few days, I shall send for -you to come to see me, and we will drink tea in the garden. Good-by! -_Addio!_” - -Natale touched his hat, as he had long ago been taught to do, and the -pedestrians moved away, all but the gentleman who had called him a -“little Egyptian.” - -He stood for a moment at Natale’s side, with his back turned to the -house and his departing friends, and in a trice a handful of copper -coins was transferred from his pocket to Natale’s hands. Mr. Grantly -had just had a paper note changed into small coins, at the fruit shop, -and he was glad to relieve his pocket of some of its weight. - -“I hope his guardians will let him keep the money,” was his thought -as he turned away from Natale’s brilliant smile of thanks. The boy’s -training had made him none too proud to accept the money of a -stranger, and he lost no time in stowing it away in his jacket pocket, -while Mr. Grantly hurried after the echoing steps of his party. - -Luigi at the window above had seen the money given to Natale, but he -asked no questions of the boy, who, after kicking his heels against the -wall for some time longer, was presently called to his supper. - -There was a flush on Natale’s cheeks and a brightness in his eyes which -even Sora Grazia noticed, and as the evening was cool, she thought it -wise to forbid his sitting out on the balcony or the wall, as was his -wont, until bedtime. He looked feverish, she said, and in her own mind -she planned a cup of hot camomile tea as a remedy at bedtime. Natale’s -disappointment at this command to keep indoors showed so plainly upon -his childish features that Sora Grazia was provoked, and for the first -time since the boy had been with her she used harsh tones. - -“There! you may as well go to bed at once!” she cried, as he was -leaving the kitchen, without a word it is true, but with the light all -gone from his face. “I can never please you, whatever I do, and you are -here only to waste food and sulk. Go to bed, Natale!” - -Luigi had gone off directly after eating his supper, about some matter -of business with one of his superiors at the church, so he was not -there to take Natale’s part. - -It is hard enough to be sent to bed on an ordinary night and at one’s -regular time, as any child will agree, but to be forbidden the early -hours of a moonlit evening outdoors, especially when one’s little head -is teeming with wild, delicious ideas of flight--away from daily baths, -from the cramping walls of a house, and out into the freshness and -freedom of the night, which has no terror for the dwellers in tents, -was well-nigh unbearable. - -Ah! how little Sora Grazia knew of the anguish she was causing! - -But Natale obediently stumbled slowly upstairs in the dark to the -bedroom, and when there, crouched in his usual place on the floor -behind the flower pots without an audible murmur. - -The little acrobat had made no plans at all, but with the touch of the -money given him by the kind old gentleman on San Vito, an impulse to -seek his freedom had occurred to his mind, and in the half-hour while -he continued on the wall, furtively handling the coins in his pocket, -he had wished,--only wished, however,--that he might have the courage -to steal out into the moonlight, after eating, while Sora Grazia should -be about her dish-washing, and Luigi poring over one of his little -black books, perhaps, by the light of the candle in the kitchen. He had -often thought of Olga’s words, “I would run after the wagon, if I were -you,” but he had been too closely watched during the first day or two -to admit of his carrying out so bold a plan, and since then, for the -rest of the long, dreary week since the caravan had gone, he had not -had the spirit to undertake such a measure. The whole world seemed to -intervene between himself and the beloved company who had gone, and he -felt sure that he would be seen by some mistaken person and brought -back, even before he could reach the river, if he should attempt to -follow. - -Until to-night no thought of leaving under the protection of the -friendly darkness had come to him, and he had only been able to see -himself flying down the sunny road in full view of all the village, to -be promptly turned back again by some carriage driver of the place, or -some schoolboy bigger than himself and therefore stronger. Besides, he -had had no money, and Natale had traveled enough to know that a few -cents in one’s pocket make one’s road easier and less long. So the -days had passed, and Natale was fast drifting into a state of listless -torpor which must have ended in illness, had not Mr. Grantly changed -a five-franc note at the fruit shop that sunny afternoon and taken a -stroll along San Vito where Natale sat “sulking” on the wall! - -Presently, as the little child continued to gaze longingly out into the -moonlight, a ray of further hope illumined his mind. As Luigi had gone -to the church now, it would be late before he would return. Sora Grazia -always sat dozing on her stool in the doorway until time for barring -the door and going to bed. Why should he not slip past her and away -into the shadows of the street, before Luigi should return? His heart -leaped at the thought, and he rose noiselessly to his feet and glanced -around the darkening room. His small cot stood smooth and white against -the wall. Another thought struck him, and he quailed with a sense of -utter discouragement. When Luigi should come in,--and he might be very -early, one never knew,--the runaway would be missed straightway from -the empty little bed, and easily overtaken if he should have taken the -regular road down the hill. - -It is true there were paths innumerable down the terraces from the -back of almost any house in the street, most of them probably leading -down to the river far below, but Natale had been no explorer of the -neighborhood during his week of captivity, and was ignorant of the -precipitate windings and the final ending of even the most practicable -of these. No, he must go by the road, and he must wait until Luigi -should return, and get to bed and to sleep. - -Natale knew that the priest slept soundly, for, one night he had -had the misfortune to knock over upon the floor a pot containing a -carnation plant, and the crash had not awakened Luigi. The boy had -waked and had gone to the window to peer out into the night, fancying -that he heard the hoarse creaking of the caravan brake as the clumsy -vehicle crawled down the hill, and in craning his head between the -pots, his elbow had pushed over one of them. Fortunately, neither pot -nor plant had broken, and he had spent a good deal of time in packing -the loosened earth about the carnation’s roots and replacing the pot -among its fellows. The next morning, Sora Grazia had bidden him be more -careful about carrying mud upstairs on his shoes, only to be cleaned up -by her afterward, and he supposed he must have left some of the earth -upon the floor, in the dim light. - -At any rate, Luigi slept soundly, and if he, himself, could only -manage to keep awake until all was safe, he knew that he would have -no difficulty in unbarring the door. He had accomplished it unaided -only that morning, with Sora Grazia standing by and saying that it was -the first thing of use he had set his hands to do since coming there -to live. She had spoken good-naturedly though, and Natale had nothing -against her. No, not even now did he remember her late harsh words, for -he was too sweet-natured to harbor malice. He had only suffered, and -now there was a prospect of escaping more suffering of the same kind. - -So after sitting on his bed with a wild turmoil of thoughts engaging -his busy little brain, he began rapidly to undress. Luigi must not find -him up! But, after taking off the strong new suit of clothes which Mrs. -Bishop had had made for him, he rummaged under his mattress where his -old things had been stored by Sora Grazia and quickly got into the worn -trousers, the faded blouse and leggings, tucking the old shoes under -his pillow. He had set the new shoes and stockings in orderly fashion -on the floor and folded up the new clothes and laid them at the foot of -the little cot. How fortunate that his old shoes had not been thrown -away, for he could hardly have traveled barefoot over the flinty stones -of the road and the river. Natale chose to wear the old easy shoes, -for the new ones had always hurt him, and he would not have been able -to steal unheard out of the house with those heavy, creaking soles -tramping over the bricks. If he had known of the long way ahead of the -old worn shoes, perhaps he would have planned to carry the despised -footgear in his hands. But forethought had little place in the mind of -so young a runaway, and he was guided in his change of clothes only by -his own desires for comfort. The old clothes were as familiar as old -friends, and therefore he preferred them. - -Then, after making his preparations, not forgetting to change the money -from the pocket of the new jacket to that of his old trousers, he laid -himself down on the cot, and drew up the light covering snugly about -his shoulders, devoutly hoping that he would not fall soundly asleep. - -If Natale had only known it, Sora Grazia, believing Natale safe for the -night, had slipped off for a gossip with a friend living just back of -the church, simply drawing the door to behind her and leaving the coast -clear for flight. And it would not have been difficult for the boy to -leave a semblance of himself tucked under the bed covering, in the -shape of the roll of discarded clothes and shoes! But little Natale was -not possessed of a very designing brain, and after all, Luigi _might_ -have come in untimely, and spoiled it all! - -In a few moments, the would-be runaway was fast asleep, while the moon -sailed across the valley from the eastern toward the western sky. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE FLIGHT OF THE BIRD - - -WHEN Natale next opened his eyes he became very wide awake indeed, in -an instant. In fact, he did not know that he had been asleep at all, -until the moonlight, slanting in, showed Luigi’s long body stretched -upon the iron bed close by. - -What could have waked Natale? For a moment he lay still without -recollection of the momentous plans made at his early bedtime. Then -he recalled a sensation of icy cold water about his feet, and he -remembered that he had dreamed of a sudden plunge into the river while -trying to find the stepping-stones. It must have been the chill of the -dream-water that had awakened him! He sat up and found that he was -still dressed and in his old clothes. - -Ah! it was easy to remember all now, and after a breathless glance over -his shoulder at Luigi, who was comfortably snoring, Natale slipped out -of bed. Catching up his old hat and his shoes he stole softly over the -brick floor and down the stone stairs as quietly as any mouse would -have done. - -Sora Grazia slept downstairs, but the door of her room was mercifully -closed, and Natale knew that she often locked it at night. He turned -his back upon it, therefore, with confidence, as he felt in the -darkness for the balcony door. He exerted all his strength to raise the -heavy bar of iron which guarded the door. Then he was very careful to -keep his hold on the bar, as it swung downward, lest it should rouse -the house with its usual clanging fall. The huge key was in the lock, -and Natale succeeded in turning it with both hands, although this was -much more difficult than raising the bar above the lock. It creaked -dully as it turned, and Natale’s heart leaped into his throat, and a -dozen noises buzzed in his ears. - -Breathless, he stood with his hand on the latch, afraid to move lest -the door behind him should open, and everything come to an end. But -nothing happened, so he swung open the door, and without stopping to -close it behind him, he again caught up his shoes, which he had had to -set down, and ran along the balcony and out into the street, his feet -pattering softly on the stones. - -In his haste he did not stop to think of the direction he should take. -His only impulse was to get out into the night somewhere, away from the -houses and street. So he ran swiftly along in the shadow cast by wall -and house, in just the opposite direction from that which would have -led him past the church tower and through the village, out upon the -downward road. Presently he crouched in a shadow to draw on his shoes, -then fled onward again. - -Once away, he lost his bearings utterly and hurried on without turning, -past the small house with the Madonna painted on the wall, past the -large house where the white tablet to “Pietro Pacioni” gleamed in -the moonlight, and then downward, by a roughly paved path leading -to the Campo Santo. Perhaps he would have kept on aimlessly along -San Vito,--the fashionable promenade leading always higher along the -mountain side till it ended in an open plateau high up above the -valley,--if he had not heard steps approaching. Whether these steps -came from behind or from ahead he did not stop to discover. The -downward path offered safety, and a small pink villa threw a dark -shadow across its entrance, so Natale lost not an instant in scudding -down the friendly by-way. - -On he trotted, past the shrine where the tiny Della Robbia Madonna sits -under her arch, the moonlight touching the shining blue of her hood, -the yellow of her robe and the pink of the baby on her knees with a -radiance that was almost startling on the edge of the shadow. Now the -path grew level, and the stones were left behind, and no more noise of -footsteps disturbed the quiet. - -A few rods more, and Natale stood in front of the small mortuary chapel -outside the cemetery. The iron gates set in the wall of the cemetery -were locked, as Natale found on gently shaking them. He had paused to -peep through the slender grating into the inclosure where the moonlight -touched the white tomb of the foreign gentleman buried close under the -wall, and showed so plainly the numbers on the low stakes marking the -graves of the nameless poor. The shadows of the cypress trees lay like -long black fingers outstretched upon the wilds of weedy undergrowth, -and the wind stirred dismally on the exposed hillside. - -One day, Natale and Olga had wandered together as far as these iron -gates. He remembered it now, and with the recollection he sprang away, -eager to continue his journey,--then stood still, uncertain as to his -path. - -The way which had brought him downward came to an abrupt end with the -little chapel, outside the gates. It would not do to lose himself among -the chestnut woods in search of a path! Yet, how could he plunge down -the pathless slopes among the great trees, with nothing to guide him -but the murmur of the river far below? Still less was he willing to -return to the road above and turn about to take his way through the -village and so on out upon the road. He was almost sure that if he -could only see to find his way, some downward path from where he stood -would bring him to a river crossing, perhaps a long, long way below the -arched bridge, and therefore much farther on his journey. - -Bewildered and tired, he was almost ready to give up his flight, and -to creep into the dark portico of the little chapel, and back into the -shade beneath the picture of the Saint with the skull in his hand, and -there end this strange night, which already seemed to him longer than -any night he had ever known. But he roused himself to one more effort, -and crept around to the back wall of the chapel. There, to his joyful -surprise, he came upon a semblance of a path! - -All indecision was gone now, and he fairly slid down the rocky and -precipitous way, which was more gully than footway, being in fact a -watercourse for the torrents leaping down the mountain side, after -some storm of rain, as well as a short cut to the river for roughly -shod peasant feet. - -More than once Natale stumbled, and once he fell headlong, bruising his -hands and knees, but he did not mind, for the rushing of the little -river down among the rocks was becoming very loud in his ears. - -When at last he came out of the woods, and stood on the edge of the -waste of rounded stones loosely paving the river bed, he looked back -a moment to where the village must be, high above, a huddle of gray -wall and roof, with the square church tower in its midst. All seemed as -silent in the sleeping town as in the home of the sleeping dead on its -outskirts. Then, just as Natale again turned his back upon the mountain -side, where perched Cutigliano like a bit of gray lichen growing on -some mossy bowlder, the beautiful, bright, friendly moon slipped quite -over the mountain in the west, and darkness fell upon the valley, -where deep down in its darkest shadow Natale was ready to cross the -river. The light of the moon still touched the chestnut woods higher -up the slopes, but every moment the shadow would be creeping higher -and higher, until there would be no more moonlight on this side the -mountain, and only the stars would come peeping out at Natale. - -After slipping off his shoes and leggings, the boy began picking his -way carefully over the large dry stones which were worn smooth and -round by slow wasting in the wet seasons, when the river flooded its -narrow course and spread to the grassy banks. The stones rolled under -even his light footsteps, but Natale kept his balance in crossing the -smaller stones, and clambered patiently over or around the largest -ones, and presently arrived at the edge of the black, rushing water. -The brawling Lima makes a great ado hereabouts, as it tumbles over the -rocks, for its bed slopes decidedly all the way to Lucca and beyond, -and there is no opportunity for it to moderate its pace, or calm its -chafings against the rocks. - -With the first touch of the icy water upon his bared feet, Natale -recalled his dream. How long ago it had been since he had lain safely -in his bed under the slanting roof of Luigi’s house! Again and again -he tried to plant his foot firmly in the midst of the swirling water, -which was perhaps as much as twenty feet wide at that point, but -always it was deeper and colder than he had expected, and the stones -more slippery and unsteady. Then he began wandering up and down the -bank, in quest of the stepping-stones, which here and there certainly -crossed the river both above and below the arched bridge. Unsuccessful -in this, Natale finally exerted himself to make a reckless dash into -the current, where he found himself the next instant up to his waist -in the black water and clinging desperately by one free hand to a wet -rock, with the instinct of preserving himself from being carried off -his feet. Then miserably he felt his way back to the dry rocks on the -edge of the stream, and dropping down upon their harsh bosom, he began -to cry bitterly. - -He had so hoped there would be a crossing place! If he could only find -it! His feet were sore with bruises now, and he felt as if he could -not walk another step. He grew cold as he crouched there, sobbing with -disappointment, for though the sun shines hot during the daytime on -the chestnut trees and the vines of the Apennines, the nights, even of -summer, are cool, and now a chill wind came sweeping down the valley -from the fir-crowned summits of Abetone. - -Presently the little wanderer roused himself and stood on his feet. -Nothing could tempt him to try to find his way back to the house of -the priest, not even aching feet or shivering limbs, but he began to -think there might be a more sheltered place near by--this little boy of -the road, who had taken many a noontide nap curled up at the foot of -some wayside tree. Perhaps the earliest light of dawn would show him -the stepping-stones and the road, of which there was no hint now in the -blackness of darkness across the river. Painfully he crept back toward -the bank, where presently he curled himself into a knot at the foot of -a huge, distorted old chestnut tree, a short distance up the slope. -The grass was soft and springy about the roots of the old tree, and a -huge boulder near by shut off the wind from Natale’s shivering legs. -So, with a sigh of content, and for the first time tasting the sweets -of his new freedom, the little acrobat closed his eyes upon the stars -winking down at him from above the stirring leaves, and fell asleep for -the second time that night. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -ON THE WING - - -LONG before Natale waked, the day had dawned, but the sun had not long -looked down into the valley before he turned stiffly on his grassy -couch and rubbed his eyes. Then, however, he lost not an instant in -taking up his journey where it had left off the night before. - -How easy it was in the light of the sunbeams of the early morning to -spring over the dry stones of the bank, and with a swift glance up -and down select a safe place to cross the water which had seemed so -dangerous and cruel in the dark. - -The daylight changed everything, of course, and it was but a few -moments after waking before he was across the stream and scrambling -up to the low wall bounding the road on the river side. From the inner -edge of the road the mountains rose precipitately. - -As Natale clambered over the wall the church bells of Cutigliano -burst into a wrangle of sound, which must have echoed from one end of -the village to the other. Though the distance softened the metallic -tones, the little boy was startled by them into a scamper away down -the sunlit road as if the mischievous village boys whose office it was -to ring the bells were in headlong chase after him. The day must have -been the _festa_ of some saint, and for a long time Natale heard the -bells’ voices, sweetened more and more as his bare feet trudged onward -and the distance fell between him and them. But he soon gave up his -running because his legs were stiff and his feet sore, and as yet no -one appeared coming along the road behind him, in pursuit. - -There had been no doubt in his own mind of the direction he should take -after once gaining the road. He knew that Giovanni and Antonio with the -house-wagon had been bound for the Bagni di Lucca, and also he knew -that the road to the Bagni led downward with the stream, and not up -toward the cold region of Abetone, the “Great Fir Tree.” - -So all he had to do was to follow the road, broad and white, by the way -they had come three weeks before, without need, even, of asking his way -of the peasants he should meet. He had turned the shoulder of a great -green mountain-spur which entirely shut off the view of Cutigliano -before he would stop for an instant in his lame tramping. Once assured -that the town was out of sight behind him, he sat down breathlessly on -one of the heaps of loose stones such as flank every mountain road in -Italy. Then he deliberately took each foot in turn in his small hands -and gravely and pitifully examined its bruises. There was nothing to be -done, then, but plant them in the road again and continue his way. - -For an hour or more he trudged painfully on, but the stiffness in his -legs left him after a while, and he began to be only hungry. He wished -he had thought of hiding in his pocket, the night before, a crust of -the dark, coarse bread he loved, and which had always been plentiful at -Sora Grazia’s. But the coppers jingled comfortably there instead, and -Natale contented himself to wait for breakfast till he should pass some -bread shop along the road. - -The morning air was sweet with the freshness of early day, and the -delicious odor of the wild thyme’s tiny blossoms. Tall harebells nodded -to him from the thyme and heather bank shoulder-high above the road, -and sparkled with the sunshine and dew upon their purple flowerets. The -river, which in the darkness had seemed to mock him with its roaring, -now only murmured softly as it slipped over the stones in the sunlight. - -By and by, Natale began to meet people in the road, men with donkeys -bearing huge basketfuls of wet grass and wild flowers shorn from the -steep terraces above for the cow or donkey at home, and women tramping -in their thick-soled shoes to Cutigliano with baskets of fresh fruit -or eggs or cheeses for the summer hotels balanced on their heads. From -all of these Natale kept his face steadily averted, lest they should -bear back to the town tidings of his going. Usually, after passing a -group of these wayfarers, the boy broke into a quick run in order to -lengthen the distance between them and himself, but these spurts of -speed availed him little, for he had always to stop and rest afterward, -and so lost many more minutes than he had gained of the golden day. - -The road had already become a curving white glare before Natale came -in sight of a long stone house having many windows and doors, and -standing on the inner edge of the road. He came upon it suddenly, on -turning a sharp curve, and then he saw that another house faced it on -the opposite side of the road, and that an inviting shade lay between. -The back of one of the houses looked directly upon the steep slope of -the mountain behind, while the rear wall of its opposite neighbor had -its foundation in the rocky banks of the tumbling river. In the shade -between, barefoot peasant children played noisily. Near by, a stream -of spring water, clear and cold, trickled from a wooden trough into a -rough stone basin. - -And here at last were rest and food and drink for the runaway,--only no -one must learn that he was a runaway! - -A fat and black-eyed housewife with arms akimbo stood in one of the -doors, and as Natale came up to her on limping feet, she eyed him with -interest from the stone of the doorstep. - -“Will you give me a little piece of bread, signora? See, I have money,” -said Natale, showing her a handful of Mr. Grantly’s copper coins in his -open palm. - -“A bit of bread you shall have, to be sure, and your _soldi_ you shall -keep, little one,” the good-natured creature promptly answered, and -while the children left their play and gathered about Natale, with -friendly eyes, their mother disappeared into the very small and dusky -shop behind. - -“There, sit down and eat,” she said, returning with a hunk of bread and -a generous lump of cheese on a coarse plate in her hand. - -As Natale received the plate and moved rather lamely toward the -dripping fountain in the shade, the children ran ahead, and one filled -a rusty tin cup with the cold water and had it ready for Natale by the -time he reached the mossy brink of the fountain. - -These little ones of the road, wild and rude enough in their play, were -well used to offering the “cup of cold water” to the passing wayfarer, -and Natale’s thirsty throat gulped the draught gratefully. - -There was something about the child which arrested the attention of the -woman more than the ordinary passer-by often did, and she also stood -watching Natale breakfast hungrily. - -He was shy and downcast, fearing difficult questions, and as soon as -the last crumb of bread and cheese had disappeared he got to his feet, -setting the empty plate on the margin of the fountain. - -“Thank you, signora, and good-by,” he said, and was off. - -“No, but wait!” she cried, laying her hand on his shrinking shoulder. -“You have eaten my bread; now answer my questions. What is your name, -_picino_,[7] and where are you going?” - -[Footnote 7: Little boy.] - -“Down the road,” was the shyly spoken answer to the last question, with -a quiet waiving of the first. “Please let me go, signora. It is already -late, and I must hasten.” - -“Well, go!” she exclaimed then, “and a good journey to you!” But she -stood watching him trudge briskly away from her until another curve in -the zigzag road hid him from her sight. - -“Some stranger’s child!” she muttered to herself, going back to the -doorstep. “I have never seen him pass here before, and few there be -who pass by without the knowledge of Chiara. Well, I am glad he has -his _soldi_ safe in his pocket. May the saints protect and feed my own -children when they go a-wandering! You, Beppo! keep your head out of -the dust of the road!” - -“Mamá, mamá, Beppino is making _capitomboli_, such as the boy who was -here just now made in the circus at Cutigliano, on the day we went with -our father to the big tent! Do you not remember?” cried an admiring -small sister of Beppo. “See, our Beppo does them even better than the -other boy, mamá!” - -The woman gave a little start of recollection, and then dismissed the -idea which had occurred to her, as impossible--fortunately, perhaps, -for Natale. - -“Silly girl! The circus people went down the road a week ago to the -Bagni, do _you_ not remember? How should the boy be seven days behind? -No more _capitomboli_, I say, Beppo _mio_, in all this dust!” - -[Illustration: “Capitomboli, such as the boy who was here just now made -in the circus at Cutigliano.” _Page 142._] - -In a carriage, with two good horses and a fine cracking whip behind -them, one may drive from Cutigliano down to the Baths of Lucca in the -first half of a summer’s day. On two tired slim little legs, one -would need much more time to accomplish the journey. Also when one has -been for six days imprisoned within stone walls, one does not hurry--if -fairly out of danger--along beauteous and fresh-smelling paths of -freedom. - -Every hour or so after leaving the woman and children at the fountain, -Natale stopped for a rest along the way. Sometimes he sat down -on a heap of mending stones by the wayside, in company with some -stone-breaker hammering away in the shade of his sun screen, a rude -lattice of chestnut boughs propped behind the heap of stones. - -The monotonous clink of the hammer breaking the sharp-edged stones was -usually stayed as the lonely worker turned to chat with the large-eyed -child hovering near. Only once or twice was Natale’s cheerful “_Buon’ -giorno!_”[8] returned by an unwelcoming growl or by sour silence. -In such cases, the dawdling feet made all haste to pass and seek a -resting-place in the shade of some breeze-rustled chestnut tree quite -out of sight of the cross stone-breaker. - -[Footnote 8: Good morning.] - -The second night was passed as the first had been, out of doors, -after a supper of hot rice paid for at an _osteria_,[9] a short way -back along the road. Natale might have slept, as well, at the little -inn, but he was too unused to roofs to dream of proposing it, and the -absent-minded old landlord had not seemed to be thinking of anything -but puffing away at his pipe, as Natale slipped past him and out of the -dingy passage-way, after paying for his food. - -[Footnote 9: Inn.] - -A long-bodied two-wheeled cart stood outside the inn door, its shafts’ -ends resting on the ground, its rear high in air, and Natale, with an -instinct for sleeping above wheels, had decided to return to the cart -for a night’s lodging place when the world should be dark again. But -sleep overtook him as he lay waiting at the foot of a tree to which -he had scrambled from the road below, and when he roused, dawn was -staining the pale sky with rose color. - -The next day promised to pass as the first had done,--with slipping -shyly past occasional houses of entertainment along the way, with -lingerings to stare into the mysterious depths of some noisy mill in -league with the tumbling river, and with long, monotonous trampings, -between times, along the smooth road, bordered always by the mountains -and the river. As the road neared the valley, it crossed dashing -streams hurrying to join their waters to the broader water of the -river, and so solid was the stone masonry of the arches that one would -never have known that he was crossing a bridge but for the sparkle and -the laughter of the foaming water as it dashed under the road and out -again. - -Many times Natale, himself a small dark speck on the endless white -road, looked up the long mountain slopes, green in the sunlight, purple -in the shadow, and glimpsed high above him on the giddy heights the -climbing roofs of some hoary old mountain town, away out of hearing of -the busy river, out of reach of traveling circus wagons, and which, - - “Like an eagle’s nest hangs on the crest - Of purple Apennine.” - -It was past noon of the second day when Natale entered a village -on a level with the highway. Here the road suddenly changed into a -stone-paved street, running between high houses and echoing with the -tramp of wooden-soled shoes and the patter of donkeys’ hoofs. - -He stopped at the door of a sour-smelling wine shop where sat a man on -a stool outside the door. To him the little boy put his question as -to whether this town might perhaps be very near to the Bagni di Lucca. -This man wore a red fez on his bushy, black head, and down his long, -black beard trickled drops from the wine cup at his lips. The fellow -did not stop his drinking long enough to reply in so many words to the -question, but a decided shaking of his head and the pointing of a long, -dirty finger onward sufficiently enlightened Natale, and he kept slowly -on his way. - -In passing a small baker’s shop, he stopped and bought a great ring of -sweetish bread, and then slipping his arm through this, he went more -cheerily onward. There were still many _soldi_ left in his pocket, and -surely this beautiful ring of bread would last until the Bagni di Lucca -should come in sight, with, of course, the dear yellow tent set in its -midst! - -One of the last houses he passed as he left the town was entered -through a garden by a huge wooden door opening upon the cobblestones -of the street. This door stood ajar, and Natale stayed his steps for a -moment to gaze through the aperture down a charming vista of trellised -vines supported on crumbling white columns of masonry. Green and -gold lights played over the rough paving-stones of the cloister-like -colonnade through the latticework above. Halfway down this corridor, -two or three girls romped and sang together, their scarlet kerchiefs -and the rich blues of their skirts making dashes of vivid color in the -shade where they lounged. Pale jewels of grapes, already growing pink -and amethystine, crowded the vines with promise of luscious sweetness -when their full time should come. - -The girls peered back at the travel-worn lad peering in at them, but -when the largest of them called mockingly to him, “Enter, signore!” -Natale ran away down the street and again out upon the road. The girls -had made him think of Arduina and Olga and little Maria, and away down -at the end of the corridor he had caught a glimpse of a gray-haired -woman sitting on a flight of broken stone steps, with an infant on her -lap. His heart swelled with homesickness. If only he might see Nonna -once again! How long was the monotonous road to Bagni di Lucca! - -The day, however, was not to close without an exciting and important -event. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -FLUTTERING A LITTLE FARTHER - - -NATALE sat down in his leisurely fashion on the low wall bounding the -road just beyond the town and began daintily nibbling around the crisp, -sugared edges of his bread ring. It was mid-afternoon, and while his -jaws worked steadily, his wide bright eyes watched with interest two -bicyclists toiling up the hill and trundling their wheels alongside. As -they passed him by without a glance, their faces red and perspiring, -and their shoes whitened with the light dust, the boy’s eyes still -followed them and lighted upon a queer figure coming from the town he -had just quitted. It was the red-capped, swarthy-faced man of the -wine-shop door, and now his shoulders were bent under a pack slung on -his back, and his legs were bowed as he limped along, and he wore an -old overcoat much too long, which had seen better days upon another’s -shoulders. - -The wheelmen paid no attention to this fellow, as he stopped on meeting -them and perhaps offered them a sight of his wares hidden in the pack, -so the peddler presently came up with Natale, grumbling sourly. - -“These foreigners without manners!” he growled, planting himself in -front of the little boy’s swinging legs. “Ah! you are the boy who goes -to the Bagni. Come, I also go thither. We shall be companions merry -enough!” - -Natale had no fancy for joining company with this man who frowned with -his black brows and grinned, in turn, with big white teeth gleaming in -his hairy face, but neither had he the courage to demur. Therefore, -he slipped down unwillingly from his perch and trotted along at the -peddler’s side. - -Fortunately, the man asked no questions and spoke little, and before -evening, his steady tramp had led Natale over more miles than the whole -previous day had carried him. Little cared this strange, silent fellow -for leaning over walls to gaze at the foaming water singing over the -rocks, or for idly resting on a bridge to watch the white cloud-ships -crossing the azure sea overhead, as the white sails of the orange boats -ply the blue waves between Sicily and the Italian coast, and to dream -of future glory as an acrobat of renown! - -The sun had again sunk behind the rounded summits in the west, when the -peddler at last stood still and grinned down upon the panting child. - -“One easily sees that you are no traveler,” he said in his hoarse, -unpleasant voice. “Now we will sit down here by the roadside and make -our beds for the night. Did you mention supper? The bracelet you wear -on your arm will suffice for us both, if we divide it according to the -size of our stomachs. _Ecco!_” And Natale’s precious ring of sweetened -bread was rudely snatched from his arm. - -Naturally, Natale was most indignant at being treated in this manner by -so perfect a stranger, and he did not hesitate to remonstrate. - -“But the bread is mine, signore! I bought it with my own _soldi_ in -the town,” he cried, clutching at the beautiful ring of bread, already -being broken in two by the peddler’s dirty fingers. - -“_Soldi!_” echoed the man; “and where are your precious _soldi_?” - -“At the shop where I bought the bread, of course,” was the shrewd -reply, and not a coin remaining in Natale’s pocket jostled against its -neighbor now. They kept as quiet as if they knew that long, eager -fingers were ready to pounce upon them. - -Then a change came over the peddler’s manner, and he showed his -unpleasant-looking teeth in a broad smile. Perhaps he was planning a -look into those little pockets by and by, who knows? - -“What a clever boy you are!” he cried. “Well, as you are also such a -hungry little beast, take back your bread, and for a relish I shall -give you a smell of my own supper. See!” - -So speaking, he drew a roll of sausage from a pocket of his long coat. -The sausage was wrapped in a soiled handkerchief, and there was a -hunk of black bread with it. A knife with a curious curved handle and -long, shining blade was next produced, and the peddler went to work, -alternately whacking off bits of the highly seasoned meat and the hard -bread, and devouring them with crunching teeth and smacking lips. - -Natale gnawed industriously at his own bread without even thinking of -offering to barter a portion of it for a taste of the savory sausage. -There was a kind of fascination in watching the ugly fellow eat, and -the wondering brown eyes were fixed upon the peddler’s surly face. - -It was now the close of a warm afternoon. A light haze wrapped the -more distant mountains in misty blue, a chirring of insects stirred -the silence about the travelers, and now and then a carriage or cart -whisked downward, or toiled upward, along the road, accompanied by the -jingle of harness bells and the whooping cries of the drivers. A fog of -white dust rose behind every passing vehicle, and the chestnut leaves -overhead, long unwashed by rain, hung grimy and listless in the heavy -air. - -As the peddler supped, large drops of sweat gathered on his long, red -nose and dripped down his black beard, while his face grew flushed -and more scowling than ever. Presently, with an angry movement which -startled Natale half out of his wits, he dropped the sausage and knife -to the ground and tore off his coat. - -“Poor men have no choice!” he muttered. “Bare shoulders in winter, the -cast-off winter coat of an Englishman in summer!” - -The soiled and tattered old coat was tossed aside, falling -uncomfortably close to Natale’s feet, but he did not dare to push it -away with disdainful touch. The peddler’s meal now came to an end, the -remains of the sausage were gathered up with the cruel-looking knife -and laid aside with the handkerchief, after which the peddler, with -a satisfied grunt, sprawled himself on his side--to sleep, as Natale -devoutly hoped. - -But not quite yet was the man ready for sleep. Reaching for his pack, -with a lazy movement from where he lay, he unstrapped it and drew from -among the coarse laces and horn buttons inside a flat bottle, which -he uncorked and turned up to his lips. As the liquor gurgled down his -throat and its strong odor tainted the air, Natale let his eyes fall to -the uncomely garment lying within touch of his fingers. - -Then the boy’s heart leaped into his throat, and it seemed as if he -would suffocate where he sat. He dared not move, and bravely he looked -away from the thing which lay within such easy reach of his longing -hands, half-in, half-out of the fellow’s old coat pocket. - -If only the peddling thief would go off into a drunken sleep! - -For there, close by, lay Giovanni’s old pocketbook of stamped Spanish -leather, stained and battered, as Natale had always known it! - -Who could tell whether any money still remained in it? There was -nothing to do but wait till the man should go to sleep, and then, -stealthily drawing the pocketbook away from the overcoat, speed down -the road to a safe distance and find out all about it. - -He had not long to wait before the peddler returned the bottle to -the pack, and then, disposing himself on the ground, sank into an -open-mouthed slumber. - -Only when quite sure that the sleep was real did Natale steal away on -noiseless feet, prize in hand, across the shallow ditch bordering the -road, and onward to the shelter of a ruined shed quite out of sight of -their resting-place. Putting the shed between him and the road, Natale -unstrapped the pocketbook with trembling eagerness. - -There lay the notes into which Giovanni had from time to time changed -the cumbersome copper soldi of their earnings! There were the dingy -blue five-franc notes, with many one and two-franc notes of a most -uncompromising dirt color! - -The boy dared not take time to count them all. The fierce ogre asleep -under the tree might rouse at any moment and find the pocketbook gone. -Away, away, he must fly, on and on toward the Bagni di Lucca, even -though evening was at hand, and a gray blanket of cloud threatened -to hide the coming stars. So the little feet twinkled away through -the dust, Natale’s heart now heavy with the dread of what was behind, -now light with the joy of what might be ahead. As the warm dusk fell, -it seemed safe to walk again, although every sound from behind made -Natale’s heart seem to leap into his throat. Indeed, it seemed pretty -much to stay in his throat, until, by and by, he came upon some one who -was to give him most welcome news. - -He had traveled half a mile farther, and still it was not yet dark when -he sighted a cluster of houses ahead and heard cheerful human voices. -Coming up to the first house, he found a pretty, plump young mother on -her doorstep, cuddling a nursling on her breast. From across the road -and about the house came busy sounds of sheep and cows being housed for -the night in their thatched pens, and nobody seemed at leisure except -the laughing woman with the crowing baby in her arms. - -On plying the woman with his usual question, Natale learned that -the end of his pilgrimage was indeed “just down the road a little -distance”, although, on such short legs as his, the woman added -thoughtfully, it might take two hours more of brisk walking to reach -even the big circus tent, standing on the outskirts of the Bagni all -the past week. - -Ah! and was the circus still there? - -Of that the woman could not speak certainly, as some passer-by had -mentioned only the day before that but one or two more performances -were to be given before the _circo_ moved on to Lucca. She herself had -wished to go to see the wonderful Antonio Bisbini, also the little Olga -who had no more fear of a great horse’s hoofs than she herself of her -baby’s brown toes. But how was a woman to leave her house and the tired -men folks, to tramp down the hill and up again at night, with a heavy -baby in her arms? Was the little boy hoping to reach the tent in time -for the night’s exhibition? - -Natale’s heart had thrilled at the mention of Antonio’s magic name, -and his spine straightened and his head was lifted with the pride of -conscious relationship with the hero of the circus. He gave but a -thought now to Olga’s usurpation of his place in the ring. For was -he not returning to his own again, with the stolen pocketbook in the -breast of his blouse? What a welcome there would be for him now! - -“Well, good night, _bimbo_, if you will go, and may you enjoy seeing -the riding in the tent!” the woman called to him, looking wistfully -after the little figure plodding away, after a polite return of her -farewell. - -Natale’s heart was carefree now, as he limped lamely onward to the tune -of the “Dead March,” humming the air as he went. - -The road had been growing more level for some hours as it entered the -valley, and the river flowed more still and deep. The hush of night -gathered under the trees, and the birds and insects went to rest or -noiselessly crept from their haunts about vine and root, intent upon -the business of the hour. - -As signs of the famous Baths of Lucca began to appear at certain curves -in the road, Natale became possessed of but one idea. Down the river he -began to see the lights of the town, and he even thought he heard the -notes of band music, which, in truth, were wafted to his ears from the -terrace of the Casino. His head was full of plans of stealing into the -tent, and for at least this last night at Bagni di Lucca, playing his -own part in the dying-horse act. He would not take precious moments now -for practicing a somersault or wheel, as he went along, but it was easy -to rehearse the dialogue over the dying brute--if only his tired, tired -legs could keep the road, and his aching eyes find the old yellow tent -set up somewhere among the trees. - -Presently, the gleaming eyes of bicycles began to whiz by, and a -squarely built, many-windowed villa or two rose flush with the road. A -little farther now, and the tent would surely appear, with perhaps Cara -in her red dress at the doorway, and the band playing outside in the -light of the big lamp! - -Laughing stragglers now sauntered here and there, none noticing the -child making his dizzy way among them toward a flare of light on one -side where the trees fell apart. One would have hardly believed it -possible that there was room for even the tent of the Circo Equestre of -Antonio Bisbini and Giovanni Marzuchetti in the space between the long -storehouse of corn and the terraced hillside behind. Yet, not only was -the tent there, spread to its full circle and height, but the brown -wagon also was visible, drawn within its shadow, and now the staring -brown eyes of the little wanderer had found them both. - -Yes, there was the dear old tent, with its white patches upon the dull -yellow, showing against the vine-clad hillsides of the Bagni. Also, -there was the smoky lamp fastened to a post, where two ways met and -parted. There was the usual crowd gathered outside about the entrance -where Cara in her red dress and gauzy veil watched over the money bowl, -in wait for some possible late-arriving spectator. The big reflecting -lantern on the table showed the wistful features of the outsiders as -they crowded about the tent. - -As Natale crept around the tent, he saw the bare, brown legs of some -trespassing youngster following squirming head and shoulders inside, -under the curtain by way of the ground. In former times, the little -acrobat would have been the first to raise an alarm and assist with -alacrity in the ignominious expulsion of the intruder who wanted to see -the show, and yet keep his _soldi_ in his pocket, if such were there. -But the sight of the enterprising offender made little impression on -Natale’s mind now, as he stepped past the struggling legs, for, the -hour being much later than he thought, the band inside just then struck -up the familiar schottisch, and Natale knew that Il Duca was even -now treading the ring in a dignified dance, led by Giovanni himself. -His heart gave a suffocating throb, and his cheeks burned. Then he -shivered with cold, and his weary legs faltered before the daring deed -about to be perpetrated. - -There was plenty of time, even yet, and he would do it even if Giovanni -should strike him to the ground with his cracking whip, which had never -yet, however, been raised against him with more than threatening intent. - -He stopped to listen a moment longer to the music before entering. Yes, -there it was, the schottisch, accompanied by the beat of the clever -hoofs. Then, as he knew the moment was at hand for Il Duca to drop -dying in the ring, Natale crept swiftly in among the players gathered -as usual in the small tent behind. Olga was there and Arduina, in their -fanciful costumes, and Elvira, his mother, waiting for their “cues.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -AT LAST - - -THE small, pale apparition of Natale, suddenly projected into their -midst, so startled them all that even Olga forgot to listen for the -thud of Il Duca’s heavy body on the ground and the sound of his groans. -They stared open-mouthed for an instant, and then the apparition -vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. - -But the strains of the “Dead March” now recalled little Olga to -herself, and she darted from behind the curtain and out into the light -of the oil lamp, only to hear a familiar boyish voice instead of her -own answering shrilly Giovanni’s question, “What are you crying about, -child?” - -“Because our horse is dead!” - -“But are you sure he is quite dead?” And Giovanni’s voice faltered with -sudden fear, as he gazed at Natale’s small, dusty figure kneeling at -the horse’s head, with Oh! such a world of pleading in his dark eyes -and folded hands. - -“Quite dead!” wailed Natale. - -“Get up and feel his pulse, boy. If there is any pulse he is _not_ -dead!” Giovanni spoke fiercely, but there was no frown upon his face. - -And so the farce went on as usual, to the end, while Olga, with pouting -lips, slipped behind the curtain again and joined the others who were, -every one, peeping in to see little Natale do his beloved dying-horse -act. - -The little girl had come to enjoy her bit of acting with Giovanni and -Il Duca, for kneeling with folded hands and sobbing breath was a pretty -attitude, always loudly applauded, and she no longer feared that Il -Duca would lift his faithful hoof against her. But now, here was Natale -back again, and his shrill little voice going over the silly replies -to the clown in his own, old way. Well, it would be rather nice, after -all, to have Natale again, and she would not fuss about it as there -were so few things he could really do, while she was learning new feats -already, and would soon be riding Tesoro bareback around the ring. - -A perfect storm of applause succeeded the end of the dialogue, when Il -Duca scrambled to his feet, and the tent was filled with cries for a -repetition of the scene. But Giovanni turned swiftly and lifted Natale -to the horse’s back, only in time to prevent the child’s falling to the -ground, as if stunned by the noise of the shouting. Out of the ring -and through the smaller tent to the open air beyond Il Duca pranced -proudly, with Giovanni at his bridle, holding Natale in his place with -his free hand. - -Outside, they laid the child down on the warm ground in the dim light, -and Arduina brought a cupful of water and bathed his face, while Olga -stood by, and Antonio and Elvira went back to help Giovanni with his -table-leaping inside. - -“He is not dead, is he, Arduina?” Olga asked in a frightened voice. -“Feel his pulse as we do Il Duca’s!” - -“Hurry and call Nonna!” the older girl urged nervously. “We shall have -to go in, the very next thing after this, and Nonna will know what to -do.” - -So when Natale next opened his eyes, the light of a sputtering candle -showed him the gray head of dear Nonna bent over him. He lay on a small -mattress in a corner, and the smoke-stained ceiling of the house-wagon -shut out the sky. - -“_Ecco!_ he opens his eyes, my _bimbo_! my Natalino! _Carino_,[10] what -does it all mean? Tell Nonna how you have come back to the _circo_!” - -[Footnote 10: Darling.] - -But at first Natale only lifted one hand to stroke the dear, wrinkled -face of Nonna, in smiling content. After a little, he laid his hand on -the breast of his blouse and begged to be allowed to go to Giovanni. - -“He will not scold me for coming back when he sees what I have brought -with me,” he urged. - -But Nonna reminded him that the tent was still crowded with -spectators,--did he not hear the music close by, and the laughter -of the people, as the clown and Antonio and Arduina did the funny -pantomime? - -Natale lay back listening, with a happy smile on his lips, while Nonna -went to blow up the coals of a small fire on the ground outside, and -to hurry the broth that Natale might have nourishment. She could not -prevail upon the boy to confide to her what he was so anxious to tell -his stepfather, and she left him alone, too glad to have him returned -to them, to grumble over his reticence. - -Of all the children, Natale most sweetly recalled her own son’s -childhood, and Antonio’s boyish affection for her, his cheeriness and -obedience, had seemed to live again in Natale, although he was Elvira’s -son, and no grandson, at all, of her own. - -The little ones, Tito, Maria, Gigi and the rest, were asleep in their -corners, and Nonna had been sitting at rest in the wagon door when -Olga had rushed up with the news that Natale had arrived and lay -dying, perhaps, on the ground outside the tent. It was Nonna’s strong -arms that had borne him away to the house-wagon, and Nonna’s vigorous -rubbings and applications of cold water that had brought him out of -the half-swoon of exhaustion. So Nonna was content with her work, and -would not press Natalino’s secret from him. - -By the time the performance was over, and the merry-makers had streamed -out whistling, chatting and laughing together, and had gone their ways -homeward, Natale, fed and rested, was sitting up bright-eyed and eager -to announce his news. - -It was stuffy and hot in the wagon, and Giovanni went to fetch the -boy outside, the moment the tent had emptied and the players were at -leisure. Olga had not even taken time to change the yellow satin blouse -and pink tights for her usual faded cotton frock. As for Antonio, he -had only slipped his feet into a pair of loose slippers, so the great -acrobat stood before Natale in all the glory of his spangled black -velvet and shapely, pink-clad limbs. - -As the night was dark, one of the lamps was brought from the tent, and -a wild, gypsy-like scene its rays revealed under the trees about the -steps of the house-wagon. Elvira, in an access of motherly tenderness, -gathered Natale to her red satin bosom, and called him by all the -musical pet names belonging to the boys and girls of Italy, while -the musicians peeped over the shoulders of the actors and wondered -how little Natale had ever found his way on foot all the way from -Cutigliano to the Bagni. - -“The tramping will have limbered up his legs!” one whispered to another. - -“Stiffened them, rather!” was the reply, and then everybody stopped -talking and only gazed the harder as Natale put his hand within the -breast of his blouse and drew out the old leather pocketbook. - -“There, Giovanni!” he said simply, reaching the book toward his -stepfather. “The ugly, black peddler with the red cap like our Leo’s -stole the money, and while he slept on his back, by the road, I stole -it from him, and then--Oh, how fast I ran and ran that he might not -catch me and kill me with his long, sharp knife!” - -Giovanni, speechless with astonishment and joy, solemnly received and -kissed and opened the pocketbook, and then spread out the notes, one by -one, on his knee, while the rest crowded around, counting them aloud. - -What if all should not be there? Natale’s eyes shone feverishly as he -leaned forward from his mother’s knee, his gaze alternately upon the -clown’s face, and the long, lithe fingers handling the money. - -Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, -forty, forty-five, fifty, fifty-five, sixty, sixty-five, seventy, -seventy-five, eighty, eighty-two, eighty-four, eighty-six, -eighty-eight, ninety, ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-three, -ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, -ninety-nine, _one hundred_! - -Natale’s head dropped back against the red satin shoulder of his -mother, and his large eyes gazed wistfully into Giovanni’s face. - -Would they let him stay now that he had come all the weary way “after -the wagon”, bringing them the lost money? Their welcome had been -encouraging; would they let him remain, or must he be sent back to -Cutigliano, to the priest, to Sora Grazia, to school, to imprisonment -in a house without wheels, and without Nonna? - -It was Antonio Bisbini who brought up the question finally and in a -manner settled it with his slow-spoken words. Everybody had wondered -and rejoiced over the safe return of the pocketbook, with the money -untouched, and Natale had had to tell all about the peddler, and the -risks he had run of rousing the fellow from sleep in making his escape -with the pocketbook. - -“He was the man who teased me to buy the beautiful diamond brooch on -the day of San Lorenzo!” cried pretty Arduina, who well remembered -the peddler’s flattering attentions to her in his hope of finding a -purchaser for his paltry glass jewelry. - -“And the same who so frightened our Tito outside the church,” Nonna -chimed in indignantly. “And he all the time pretended to be so pious -and anxious to see the saints’ relics in the church! No wonder Tito -cried at the snapping of those dirty, thievish fingers in his little -face. The saints only know how he found the money in Giovanni’s -coat-pocket hung in the tent!” - -“Mamá _mia_, do you remember how stiff my legs were when I played at -leaping with the boys at school in Florence?” Antonio, the finished -acrobat, asked thoughtfully, breaking a long straw with his fingers and -looking at nobody. His blond head reached almost to the lowest boughs -of the chestnut tree under which he stood, and the lamplight flared -over his fair face and glittering costume. - -Natale sat up to hear the words of this oracle, and even slipped off -the satin lap of Elvira to the ground, in order to be nearer Antonio. - -“I remember that you were a studious boy,” Nonna murmured in reply, -with a note of the old bitterness in her voice. - -“Natale has done a good work in returning the money to us, Giovanni,” -the acrobat continued. “Why send him back to the foreigners? He was -unhappy, or he would never have come all this distance alone--mere baby -that he is.” - -“And the Englishwoman’s money?” Giovanni asked in a businesslike tone. - -“What has been used, replace from the pocketbook. It is not much, as we -have taken in so good a sum, here at the Bagni. Leo can ride back with -it to Cutigliano to-morrow morning, and return in time for our last -night here.” - -“_Ebbene!_” said Giovanni, and this meaning “All right, with a very -good will,” so it was decided, and then everybody hurried to get into -comfortable old clothes and to eat supper. - -Leo was sent to the nearest wine shop for a bottle of good red wine -that the troop might drink to the joy of Natale’s return and the -recovery of the money; also to the just discomfiture of all thieving -peddlers. - -Long before the evening came to an end, a tired but most happy little -boy had crept into the shadow and fallen asleep, with his head pillowed -against Nonna’s knee. - -“I am glad thou art come back to us, Natalino,” she whispered in the -softest Italian above the tangled brown curls, while the rest sang and -made merry, “and if thy little legs will only grow as straight and as -strong as my Antonio’s, and thy heart remain as faithful to old Nonna, -the saints forgive me if I care very much whether thou be acrobat or -priest!” - - * * * * * - -For some reason known best to himself, but readily guessed by the clown -and the rest of the older members of the circus, the swarthy peddler -was not seen in Bagni di Lucca for many a day after. But Natale did -not lose his dread of encountering the fierce eyes and the cruel knife -until long after the circus troop had taken to the road again. - -Nothing in the world could have induced Mrs. Bishop, the English lady -at Cutigliano, to touch the money returned with, what was to her, most -astonishing promptness and honesty through Leo, one of the musicians. - -In the first place, the notes were very dirty, much more so, she was -sure, than when she had paid them to the clown a little more than a -week before. Secondly, she would not reclaim money which had been once -devoted to the cause of civilization and of education. If the “little -ingrate” despised his opportunities and had finally returned to his -“wallowing in the mire”, let the money which would have bought him -for decency and for usefulness go with him. Thirdly--but this was not -acknowledged even to Betty--the old lady’s heart had been touched by -the tale Luigi the priest had come to tell her on the morning after -the flight of the birdling. So her heart was not quite so hard as -her words sounded, and she was in truth rather rejoiced, as well as -very much relieved in mind, when Leo had arrived to tell of runaway -Natale’s return to the troop in safety. Therefore, generously, Mrs. -Bishop would not receive the money because it seemed to her no longer -her own; surely Giovanni and Elvira and Nonna had kept their part of -the bargain in giving up the child, while Natale had not even been -consulted in their plan. - -The roll of notes was therefore returned by Leo to Giovanni, with the -foreign lady’s instructions that the money was to be spent in providing -meat for broth for the children so long as it should last. There would -still be plenty of cold water always, free as air, for daily baths -along the roads of Italy, and Mrs. Bishop hoped that Sora Grazia’s -ministrations in that line would not soon be forgotten by Natale, who -for one short week had been a scrubbed little lad. (It is safe to say -that they were not!) - -Along with the money, Mrs. Bishop sent a school primer to Natale, -with the admonition that he would at least try to learn to read -while jogging up and down the earth and upsetting his stomach in all -heathenish sports. - -But Madame Cioche and Betty rejoiced in open triumph over Natale’s -freedom, to say nothing of the priest Luigi and the wise old gentleman -who had in fact unwittingly opened the cage door for flight. - -Sora Grazia was a trifle glum for a day or two at finding her pains -thrown away upon the sulky little protégé of the foreign lady, but as -the month’s pay for his board and lodging had been in advance, and the -nearly new clothes and shoes and cap were now thrown into the bargain -by Mrs. Bishop, to repay her for her extra trouble, she too soon became -content and even pleased with the ending of the rich lady’s scheme. - -So the bare front wall of the priest’s house in Cutigliano among the -mountains has, as yet, no prospect of being adorned by a memorial -tablet to a waif of all outdoors who was willing to be a great man in -books and goodness. - -And Natale? - -Well, Natale is learning, better and better, how to turn his -_capitomboli_ over the dusty circus carpet, and he still feels Il -Duca’s pulse with sorrowful apprehension to the tune of the “Dead March -in Saul”--by night among the oil lamps. - -By day, he trudges along hot white roads, under the marvelous blue of -Italy’s sky, with Niero and Bianco for company. Or, he lies on the -ground at Nonna’s side under some spreading tree in the camping-out -times, sometimes spelling out words in a dog-eared primer, oftener -gazing past the tree tops at the cloud-ships sailing overhead, while -Nonna tells of Antonio’s wonderful childhood. - -By and by, when Natale grows too large to do the dying-horse act, and -little Tito, or Gigi takes his place, he will be dashing with the -horses around the ring. And then, in the still further and sweeter by -and by, when Antonio’s agile legs will perhaps have begun to stiffen -again, and the straight back to bend forward a little as he walks, who -but Natale will be the shining star of the Circo Equestre, like another -bespangled, pink-clad Antonio, with crisp brown curls and laughing -eyes, and the nimblest, straightest legs in all Italy? - - - - -_The story of a little patriotic Cuban girl_ - - LITTLE CUBA LIBRE - -_By_ JANIE PRICHARD DUGGAN - -Illustrated. 282 pages. 12mo. $1.35 _net._ - -In all the big city of Havana there was no more patriotic little girl -than Amada Trueno, daughter of one of the city gardeners. With all her -heart she hated the Spaniards who ruled her beloved island of Cuba. -“Little Cuba Libre” they called her when she stamped her foot and -called the Spaniards enemies and tyrants. When she went to her cousin’s -house in the country, although she played on friendly terms with the -children of a Spanish planter, still her hatred of the oppressors -slumbered. How the Cubans finally revolted, and how little Amada -herself took part in that revolution, even to the extent of bearing -arms, is told in this charming story. “Little Cuba Libre” contains -faithful pictures of Cuban life and Cuban people, and while written -especially for young readers, its fine qualities should also appeal to -older ones. Besides being an interesting story of Cuban girlhood it is -a depiction of the very spirit of patriotism. - - -LITTLE, BROWN & CO., PUBLISHERS - -34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON - - - - -_Real stories of three famous elephants_ - - THE ADVENTURES OF - MOLLIE, WADDY and TONY - -_By_ PAUL WAITT - -Illustrated in color by Clara E. Atwood. - -75 cents net. - -Mollie, Waddy and Tony are three of the most wonderful elephants in the -world. Born in India, they have traveled all over Europe and our own -America, showing their clever tricks to thousands of boys and girls. -They were bought by the children of Boston and are now kept in the -Franklin Park Zoo, where they will remain the rest of their lives. - -Mr. Waitt writes of their adventures when they were traveling, and -tells of some tricks they played which their keeper never taught them. -Little Tony is the roguish one, and he is always getting into mischief. -That clever little trunk of his pokes into all sorts of places where it -doesn’t belong, and sometimes it takes Mollie, Waddy and Johann, the -keeper, to make him behave as a proper little elephant should. - - “This is the most bewitching elephant story we ever read. It is - the story of their travels through many countries. It is as good a - story for boys and girls as any boys and girls will ever want to - read.”--_Journal of Education_, Boston. - - “The story of ‘The Adventure of Mollie, Waddy, and Tony’ is one of - the nicest that little people who like animals can read.”--_New York - Times._ - - -LITTLE, BROWN & CO., PUBLISHERS - -34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - -On page 4, Tesore has been changed to Tesoro. - -On page 71, up-stairs has been changed to upstairs. - -Illustrations have been moved to avoid interrupting the flow of -paragraphs. - -In text edition of this e-book, footnotes have been moved to -immediately below the paragraph where they occurred. - -All other spelling, hyphenation, and non-English dialogue have been -retained. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE ACROBAT: A STORY OF -ITALY *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |