The Princess Passes Volume 56, Alice Muriel Williamson, Charles Norris Williamson [primary phonics txt] 📗

Have Been A Figure For Laughter, But He Did Not Laugh. "You See,

I Was In A Hurry," I Excused Myself, Under A Long, Comprehending Gaze

Of His. "It's Your Fault If I Look An Ass."

 

"You Didn't Stop Even To Go And Get A Hat," He Said. "You Came Out In

The Rain Just As You Were, And You Ran--I Heard You Running, Behind

Me. But--But Of Course It's Because You're Kind-Hearted. You Would

Have Done Just The Same For Anybody. For--The Contessa----"

 

"Not For The Baronessa, Anyhow," Said I. "I Should Have Stopped For A

Mackintosh And Even Goloshes, Had Her Safety Been Hanging In The

Balance."

 

Chapter 16 (A Man From The Dark) Pg 124

Then We Both Laughed, And Stefani, Who By This Time Was Showing Us

The Way Through The Rain To His Own Home, Looked Over His Shoulder,

Surprised And Self-Conscious, As If He Feared That We Were Laughing At

Him.

 

On The Outskirts Of Straggling Martigny Bourg, He Stopped Before A

Gloomy, Grey Stone House With Four Rows Of Closed Wooden Shutters,

Which Meant Four Floors Of Packed Humanity. Even Martigny Has Its

Tenements For Poor Workers, Or Those Who Would Be Workers If They

Could, And This Was One Of Them.

 

We Followed Andriolo Stefani Up Four Flights Of Narrow Stone Stairs,

Picking Our Way By Testing Each Step With A Cautious Foot, Since Light

There Was None. Arrived At The Top Floor, We Groped Along A Passage To

The Back Of The House, And Our Guide Opened A Door. There Was A Yellow

Haze, Which Meant One Candle-Flame Fighting For Its Life In The Dark,

And We Waited Outside, While The Italian Spoke For A Moment To Someone

We Could Not See. There Came A Note Of Protest In A Woman's Voice, But

The Man's Beat It Down With Some Argument, And Then Stefani Returned

To Ask Us In.

 

Two Women Sat In A Room Almost Bare Of Furniture, And Both Tried To

Rise On Our Entrance; But One, Who Was Young As Years Go, Had Her Lap

Full Of Little Worn Shoes, And The Other, Who Looked Older Than The

Allotted Span, Was Nursing A Wailing Baby, Half Undressed.

 

I Found Myself Strangely Embarrassed With The Coarse Guilt Of

Intrusion. I Was Suddenly Oppressed With Self-Conscious Awkwardness,

Wishing Myself Anywhere Else, And Not Knowing What To Do Or Say. In

All Probability I Looked Haughty And Disagreeable, Though I Felt

Humble As A Worm. How The Boy Felt I Have No Means Of Knowing; I Can

Only Tell How He Acted. One Would Have Thought That He Had Known These

Poor People All His Life. I Lingered Near The Door, Taking Notes Of

The Sad Picture; The Two Rough Wooden Boxes, In Which Slept Three

Little Dark Children, All Apparently Of Exactly The Same Size; The

Mattress On The Floor Near By For The Parents; The Open Door Leading

Into A Dark Garret, Where, No Doubt, The Grandmother Crept To Sleep;

The Shelves On The Wall, Bare Save For A Few Dishes Of Peasant-Made

Pottery; The Pile Of Dried Mud On The Tiled Floor, Which The Young

Mother Had Been Carefully Scraping With A Knife From The Little Worn

Boots In Her Lap; The Rickety, Uncovered Table, With A Bunch Of

Endives On A Plate, And A Candle Guttering In A Bottle. This Was The

Picture, Redeemed From Squalor Only By The Lithograph Of The Virgin On

The Wall, Draped With Fresh Wild Flowers, And Its Perfect Cleanliness;

This Was The Home Of The Supposed "Kidnapper," The Man Who Had Refused

To Accept Five Thousand Francs As A Reward.

 

While I Stood, Stiff And Uncomfortable, The Boy Went Forward Quickly,

Begging The Two Women Not To Rise. "Poor, Dear Little Baby!" He Said

In Italian, Looking Down At The Dark Scrap Of Humanity In The

Grandmother's Arms. "She Is Ill, Isn't She?"

 

Now, How Did He Know That The Creature Was A "She"? If It Were A

Chapter 16 (A Man From The Dark) Pg 125

Guess, It Was A Lucky One, For Both Women Replied Together That The

Little Girl Had Been Ailing Since Yesterday. They Could Not Tell What

Was The Matter. They Had Hoped That She Would Be Better To-Day, But

Instead, She Seemed Worse; And With This, A Glittering Film Which Had

Been Overspreading The Mother's Eyes, Suddenly Dissolved Into Silently

Falling Rain. There Were No Sobs, No Gaspings From This Tired Woman,

Too Used To Sorrow To Rail Against It, Yet It Was Plain To See That

Her Heart Was Breaking. Still, Life Must Go On: And So, While She

Grieved For A Little One She Feared To Lose, She Cleaned The Boots Of

Those She Hoped To Keep.

 

"Have You Called A Doctor For Her?" Asked The Boy.

 

"The Good Priest Is Half A Doctor. He Came To See The _Bambina_."

 

"What Did He Say?"

 

"Oh, Signor, We Cannot Give Her All The Things He Said She Should

Have, Nor Can He Help Us To Them, For He Has Much To Do For Others,

And Little To Do It With."

 

"Yet You Would Not Let Your Husband Take The Reward I Offered For

Finding My Bag. He Is Out Of Work, And You Are Poor; You Have Four

Children To Feed, And One Of Them Is Ill. Why Will You Not Have The

Money? I Have Come To Ask You That. You See, I _Want_ You To Have It,

For The Bag Is Worth All I've Offered And Even More To Me."

 

"Ah, Signor, How Can I Tell You? It Was To Save My Baby I Refused."

 

"Please Tell. You Need Not Mind Saying Anything To Me--Or To My

Friend. We Are Interested And Want To Help You."

 

Now The Young Woman's Tears Were Falling Fast, But Silently Still, As

If She Knew That Her Heart-Break Was Unimportant In The Great Scheme

Of Things, And She Wished To Make No Noise About It. Her Lips Moved,

But No Words Came.

 

"She Will Not Speak Against Me," Stefani Said Suddenly, "Nor Will My

Poor Mother. But I Will Tell You The Story. I Meant To Steal Your Bag,

And Sell The Gold Things And All The Valuables That Were In It. It Was

A Great Temptation, For We Had Scarce A Penny Left, And There Was No

Work Anywhere. I Was Tired, Tired All Through To My Heart, Signor,

That Night On The Pass, And Then I Found The Bag. I Brought It Home,

And Charged Emilia And My Mother To Say Nothing To Anyone Outside. The

Children Were At School, So They Did Not See, Or They Might Have

Lisped Out Something, And Set People Talking. The Two Women Begged Me

To Give Up The Bag, And Try For A Reward In Case One Should Be

Offered, But I Was Desperate. I Said That The Gold Was Worth More Than

Anything That Would Be Offered--The Gold, And Some Jewelry In A Little

Box. I Knew A Man Who Would Buy Of Me, And I Had Gone Out To Find Him

Yesterday, When, As If Heaven Had Sent A Curse Upon Us For My Sin, The

_Bambina_ Was Struck Down With This Illness--A Terrible Aching Of Her

Little Head, And A Fever. When I Came Home To Take Away The Things Out

Chapter 16 (A Man From The Dark) Pg 126

Of The Bag, My Wife Begged Me On Her Knees, For The Child's Sake, To

Change My Mind; And At Last I Did, For Who Can Hold Out Against The

Prayers Of Those He Loves?

 

"Quickly, Lest I Should Repent, I Carried The Bag To Our Priest, And

Told Him All. He Thought As A Penance For The Sin Which Had Been In My

Heart, I Should Take No Reward If It Were Offered, Though He Did Not

Lay This Upon Me As A Command. Emilia Was With Him, For, Said She, Our

Lady Will Save The Baby If We Make This Great Sacrifice. Now You Know

All The Truth."

 

"And I Know That You Are Good People--Better Than I Would Have Been In

Your Places--Better Than Anyone I Know. There's No Credit In Keeping

Straight If One's Not Tempted To Go Wrong, Is There? I Won't Offend

You By Begging That You'll Take The Reward. I Offer You No Reward, But

I Am Going To Give Your Children A Present, And You Are To Use It For

The Comfort Of Your Family. I Have Enough With Me, Because, You See, I

Had To Get Something Ready To-Day, In Case The Reward Had To Be Paid.

Now, It Isn't Needed For That, So I Can Use It In This Other Way. And

You Have Done All That Is Right, And You Would Hurt Me Very Much If

You Refused To Let Me Do What I Wish. It Is Always Wrong To Hurt

People, You Know. And You Must Send Me Word Early To-Morrow Morning

Before I Go, Whether The Baby Is Better. I Feel Sure, Somehow, That

She Will Be."

 

Then A Roll Of Notes Was Thrust Into One Of The Little Boots, Still

Caked With Mud, Which The Mother Kept Mechanically In Her Hand. There

Was A Pat On The Shoulder, Too, And An Instant Later The Boy's Arm Was

Hooked Into Mine; I Was Whisked Away With Him In As Rapid A Flight As

If He Had Been A Thief, And Not A Benefactor.

 

"How Much Did You Give Them, Young Santa Claus?" I Asked, When He Had

Me Out In The Rain Again.

 

"About One Thousand Three Hundred Dollars. I Can't Stop To Calculate

It For You In Pounds Or Francs. I'm Too Excited. Oh, How Wet You Are,

Poor Man! And All For Me! But Wasn't It Splendid! And I Just Know That

Baby'll Be Better To-Morrow. You See If She Isn't."

 

She Was. The News Was Brought To Us Early In The Morning By A Poor Man

Half Out Of His Wits With Joy And Gratitude.