NO RELATIONS.
carrying under his left arm pressed  closely
against his chest.
It was this animal that had made the sheep-
skin move, but it was not, as I thought, a little
do°\
What sort of a beast could it be?   Was it a
beast at all?
I could not find a name for this queer creat-
ure, which I now saw for the first time, and
which I stared at with astonishment.
It was dressed in a red blouse edged with gold
lace but its legs and arms were naked; for it
had' arms and legs, and not paws; only these
arms and legs were covered with a black instead
of a white or a pink skin.
Black, too, was the head, which was about
the size of my clenched fist. The face, was broad
and short; the nose turned up, with widespread
nostrils; the lips were yellow. But what struck
me above all the rest were the two eyes, very
close set, quick glancing, and brilliant as mir-
rors.
" Ah, ugly monkey!" cried Barberin.
Thft word put an end to my wonder, for if I
had never seen a monkey I had at least heard
them talked of.    Then it was not a black baby
that I had before me: it was a monkey.
" This is the chief performer of my troupe,"
said Vitalis. "This is Monsieur Joli Cœur.
Joli Cœur, my friend, salute the company."
Joli Cœur raised his closed hand to his lips,
and kissed hands to each of us.
"Now," continued Vitalis, stretching out his
hand towards the white poodle, " we turn to
another. Signor Capi will have the honor of
introducing his friends to the estimable society
here present."
At this command the poodle, who up to this
had not moved in the least degree, got up quick-
ly, and, rising on his hind legs, crossed his two
fo'repaws on his chest, then he bowed so low to
his master that his policeman's cap touched the
ground.
These polite ceremonies accomplished, he
turned towards his comrades, and with one
paw, holding the other meantime on his chest,
he motioned them to approach.
The two dogs, whose eyes were fixed upon
their comrade, rose at once, and giving each
other a forepaw, just as in society people give
each other their hands, made six steps forward
with all gravity, then three steps backward, and
bowed to the company.
i "He whom I call'Capi," continued Vitalis,
" otherwise Capitano in Italian, is the chief
among the dogs: it is he who, as the most in-
telligent, transmits my orders. This young
dandy with the black hair is Signor Zerbino,
which means the gallant,—a name which he
merits in every respect. As to this young per-
son with the modest air, she is Signora Dolce,
a charming English lady, who has not stolen
her name, which means gentle. It is with this
company of players, each entitled to distinction
in his own line, that I have the advantage to
wander round the world, earning my bread
more or less well according to the chances of
good or ill fortune." Capi, the poodle, crossed
his paws.
" Capi! come here, my friend, and be kind
enough, I request,—these are well-bred persons,
to whom I always speak politely,—be so good
as to show this little boy, who is staring at you
with eyes as round as saucers, what o'clock
it is."
Capi uncrossed his paws, approached his mas-
ter, pushed aside the sheep„-skin, searched in the
waistcoat pocket, drew out a great silver watch,
looked at the dial, and barked twice distinctly ;
then, after these two well-accented barks, given
out loudly and distinctly, he uttered three more
in a weaker tone. It was, in" fact, a quarter to
three.
"It is well," said Vitalis. "I thank you,
Signor Capi. And now I beg you will request
Signora Dolce to skip a little for us."
Capi searched immediately in the pocket of
his master's vest, and drew out a skipping-rope.
» He made a sign to Zerbino, who took  up his
position opposite to him, then Capi threw him
'the end of the rope, and both begun solemnly
to turn it round and round.
As soon as the motion was even, Dolce
jumped into the circle and skipped lighty,
keeping her fine soft eyes on those of her mas-
ter
" You see," said the latter, "how intelligent
my pupils are; but intelligence is only appreci-
ated fully by comparison, that is the reason I
«ngage the boy for my troupe He will play
.the part of a stupid person, and the cleverness
of my animals will be all the better appre-
ciated."
" Oh, to play the part of a stupid------" inter-
rupted Barberin.
" Cleverness is requisite," continued Vitalis;
"and I believe that wheu the boy has had some
lessons he will not be found wanting in it. We
shall see about that. And, to begin with, we
shall now have a proof on the spot. If he be
intelligent, he will understand that he will have
an opportunity with Signor Vitalis of seeing
and traveling all over France and ten other
countries as well, of leading a free life, in-
stead of driving oxen, trudging every day
through the same field from morning until
night. Whereas, if he is not. intelligent, he
will cry and howl, and, as Signor Vitalis does
not like naughty children, he will not take him
with him, and then the naughty child will have
to go to the Foundling and work hard and get
little to eat. "
I was intelligent enough to understand his
words; but between understanding and doing
there is a great gulf to be crossed.
Certainly Signor Vitalis's pupils were very
comical, very amusing; and it must also be
very amusing to stroll about always. But to
follow them and to wander with them I must
leave Mother Barberin.
Then again, it was true, if I refused, I should
perhaps not stay with Mother Barberin: I
might be sent to the Foundling.
As I stood there perplexed, with tears in my
eyes, Vitalis tapped me gently on the cheek
with his finger.
"Come," he said, "the child understands,
since he does not cry: reason will carry the
day in this little head, and to-morrow------"
"Oh,  sir,"  I cried,   "leave me to Mother
Barberin, I beg of you------"
But, before I could say more, I was inter-
rupted by a terrible barking from Capi, and at
the same moment the dog rushed towards the
table on which Joli Cœur was sitting.
This last named, taking advantage of a mo-
ment when everybody was turned towards me,
had slyly caught up his master's glass, which
was full of wine, and was on the point of
draining it. But Capi, who was on the watch,
had seen this trick of the monkey's, and, like a
faithful servant that he was, wanted to pre-
vent it.
"Joli Cœur," said Vitalis, in a stern voice,
"you are a glutton and a rogue! Go down
thereinto that corner, and stand with your face
to the wall. Do you, Zerbino, mount guard
over him: if he stirs, give him a good slap. As
for you, Signor Capi, you are a good dog. Give
me your paw for me to shake hands with you."
Whilst the monkey obeyed, uttering little
moaning cries, the dog, pleased and proud,
held out his paw to his master.
"Now,"   continued   Vitalis,   "to   business
again.    I will give you, then, thirty francs."
" No, forty."
k. discussion began, but Vitalis soon broke it
off.
" This child must be wearied here, he said.
' ' Let him go out into the inn-yard and amuse
himself."
At the same time he made a signal lo Bar-
berin.
"Yes, just so," he assented. "Go out into
the yard; but do not stir until I call you, or I
shall be angry."
I could do nothing but obey, and I did so. I
went therefore into the yard, but I had no heart
to amuse myself. I sat down on a stone, and
began to reflect. My destiny was being decided
at that moment. What was it to be? Cold and
anguish together made me shiver.
The discussioil between Vitalis and Barberin
lasted a long time, for more than an hour elapsed
before the latter came into the yard.
When he did appear at last, he was alone.
Had he come in search of me to hand me over
to Vitalis?
"Come!" he said to me.    " Home now.
Home! Then I was not to leave Mother Bar-
berin? I wanted to question him, but 1 dared
not, for he seemed to be in a very bad humor.
The walk was accomplished in silence. But
about ten minutes before we arrived, Barberin,
who was walking on in front, stopped.
" You hear?" he said, taking me roughly by
the ear: "if you repeat one single word of
what you heard today, you will pay dearly for
it. so mind yourself."
CHAPTER IV.
THE   MATERNAL   HOMESTEAD.
""Well," asked Mother Barberin, when he
came in, " what did the maire say?"
" We have not seen him."
" What! you have not seen him."
" No; I met some friends at the Café Notre
Dame, and when we got out it was too late.
However, we shall go back there to-morrow."
Barberin had therefore, it was plain to see,
thrown up his  bargain with the man of the
On the way home I had more than once
asked myself if there was not. some scheme hid-
den in this return to the house, but these last
words dispelled all the doubts which my per-
plexed mind was confusedly revolving.
Since we were to return the next day to the
village to see the maire, it was evident that
Barberin had not accepted Vitalis's proposals.
Meanwhile, notwithstanding his threats, I
would have spoken of my suspicions to Mother
Barberin, if I had been able to get a moment
alone with her; but Barberin never left the
house the whole evening, and I went to bed
without finding the.opportunity I wanted.
I fell asleep, telling myself that it would do
to-morrow.
But on getting up the next day I found no
Mother Barberin.   "As I  wandered about the
house, looking for her, Barberin asked me what
I wanted.
." Mamma."
"She is gone to the village; she will not be
back until midday."
Without knowing wherefore, her absence
made me uneasy. She had not spoken the
evening before of going to the village. How
was it that she had not waited to go with us,
since we were to go there after midday?
Would she be back before we started?
A vague fear oppressed my heart, and, with-
out knowing what danger threatened, I still had
a foreboding of a danger.
Barberin was watching me with a strange ex
pression, m no way calculated to reassure me.
Wishing to be out of reach of his eyes, I went
out into the garden.
The garden, which was not very large, was
of considerable value to us, for it supported us,
supplying us, with the exception of corn, with
almost everything that we ate,—potatoes, beans,
cabbages, carrots, and turnips. There was not
a spot of waste ground to be found in it. How-
ever, Mother Barberin had given me a little
corner, in which I had collected a quantity of
plants, herbs, and mosses, carried off in the
morning from the borders of the woods and the
hedge-sides while I watched our cow, and re-
planted in the afternoon in my garden, pell-mell,
anyhow, one beside the other.
Assuredly it was not one of those beautiful
gardens with well-graveled walks, and flower-
beds laid out by a line, full of rare flowers; the
passers-by would not stop on the road to look
over the thorn-hedge clipped with shears. But,
such as it was, it had the merit and the charm
of belonging to myself. It was my very own,
my property, my own estate; I arranged it as I
chose, according to the whim of the moment;
and whenever I spoke of it, as I did twenty
times a day, I said " my garden."
As it was during the past summer that 1 had
got together and planted my collection, so it
was in the spring that it would sprout up m the
ground —the early kinds without even waiting
for the end of winter, the others in «
their due
course.                                 .                        ,
Hence my curiosity at this moment was keen-
ly excited. Already the jonquils were showing
their buds, whose points were turning yellow;
the ground lilacs were pushing up their little
violet-tipped shafts, and from the hearts of the
wrinkled leaves of the primroses came buds
that seemed ready to burst.
How would these all blossom? that was what
I came every day with curiosity to see.
But there was another part of my garden
which I studied every day with a sentiment
more keen than curiosity,—that is to say, with
a sort of anxiety.
In this part of my garden I had planted a
vegetable that had been given me, and which
was almost unknown in our village,—Jerusalem
artichokes. I had been told that they produced
tubers much better than potatoes, for they tasted
of artichokes, turnips, and several other vegeta-
bles too These fine promises had inspired me
with the idea of a surprise for Mother Barberin
I said nothing to her of this present; I planted
the roots in mv garden, and I, when they sent