28
NO RELATIONS.
and talent, the question at stake being to take
in forty francs. Forty francs! there was the
mib.
Everything had been got in readiness by
Titarlis, and there were only the candles to light;
but this was a luxury that we could not indulge
3n until the room should be nearly full, for it
¦would not do for the candles to burn out be-
fore the performance was over.
While we took possession of our theater, the
¦drummer made a final parade of the village
-,streets, and we could hear the rolling of his
drum, which sounded far off or near at hand
according to the winding of the streets.
After having finished Capi's toilet and my
own, I went and posted myself behind a pillar
to see the arrival of the company. Soon the
Tolling of the drum approached, and I could
bear a vague murmur in the streets. It was
produced by the voices of about twenty boys,
who were following the drummer, keeping step.
• Without breaking off his tattoo, the drummer
«came and placed himself between two lamps
that stood at the entrance of our theater; and
the audience had only to take their places and
wait for the show to begin. Alas! how slow
they were of coming, notwithstanding that
the drummer continued his rub-a-dub with joy-
ous energy! I think every ragamuffin in the
Tillage had installed himself; but it was not
from them we were to draw the sum of forty
francs: we wanted people of substance, with
well-filled purses and open hands.
At last my master decided that we ought to
begin, although the room was far from being
filled; but we could not wait any longer, driven
as we were by the pressing question of candles.
It fell to me to make the first appearance on
the stage, and, accompanying myself upon the
barp, I sang two little songs. I must say, in
truth, that the applause which I received was
very slight. I have never been troubled to any
great degree with the self-love of an actor, but,
¦under the circumstances, the coldness of the
audience afflicted me. Assuredly, if 1 did not
give them pleasure, they would not open their
purses. It was not for glory that I was singing,
tout for poor Joli Cœur. Ah! how I wanted to
attract this audience, to rouse them to enthusi-
asm, to turn their heads! but, as far as my eyes
reached through this market-house, filled with
quaint dusky figures, it seemed to me that I in-
terested them very little, and that they were not
accepting me as a prodigy.
Capi had better luck: they applauded him
several times, and with loud clapping.
The programme went on. Thanks to Capi,
It wound up with bravoes; not only did they
«clap their hands, they stamped their feet into
the bargain. The decisive moment came:
-while I danced a Spanish dance to Vitalis's ac-
companiment, Capi, with the wooden bowl in
bis mouth, walked through all the ranks of the
assembly.
Would he collect the forty francs? that was
the question which sent a "pang through my
beart, all the while that 1 was smiling atthe
audience with my most agreeable expression.
I was breathless, but I still danced on, for I
bad no business to stop until Capi should have
come back; he did not hurry himself, and when
¦people did not give him anything he tapped his
paw on those pockets that were disinclined to
open.
At last I saw him coming up, and I was about
to stop, when Vitalis made me a sign to go on.
I went on, and, getting near, Capi, saw that the
¦wooden bowl was not full ; it was a long way
from it.
At that moment Vitalis, who had also guessed
the amount of the collection, stood up :
" I believe that I may now say, without self-
flattery, that we have gone through our pro-
gramme: however, as our candles are still burn-
ing, 1 am about, if agreeable to the audience, to
sing some airs. Capi will make a fresh round,
and those gentleman who had not an opportuni-
ty of getting at their pockets on his first expe-
dition will perhaps be quicker and more active
this time; so I warn them to prepare themselves
beforehand."   ,
Although Vitalis had been my teacher, I had
never really heard him sing, or at least sing as
be did that night. He chose two songs well
known to everybody, but which at that time I
had never heard,—the romance from "Joseph,"
"A peine au sortir de l'enfance," and that
from "Richard Cœur de Lion," "O Richard!
6 mon roi!" I was not then old enough to be a
competent judge of singing, artistic or not
artistic, but all I can say is that the feeling his
style of singing excited in me was such that I
burst out crying in the corner to which I had
withdrawn.
Through the mist which dimmed my eyes I
saw a young lady who was sitting in the front
row applaud heartily. I had already remarked
her, for she was not a peasant like the rest of.
the audience; she was a real lady, young, hand-
some, and whom, from her fur cloak, I had
judged to be the richest in the village. She had
a child beside her, who had also applauded
Capi greatly,—her son, no doubt, for he was
extremeiy like her.
After the first song Capi began his collection
again, and I noticed with surprise that this
beautiful lady had put nothing into the wooden
bowl.
When my master had finished the air from
"Richard," she made me a sign with her hand,
and I went up to her.
"I wish to speak to your master," she said
to me.
I was rather astonished that this handsome
lady should want to speak to my master. She
would have done better, according to my mind,
to put her offering in the bowl. However, I
went off to transmit the wish thus expressed to
Vitalis, and meantime Capi returned to us.
The second collection had been even less pro-
ductive than the first.
" What does that lady want with me?" asked
Vitalis.
" To speak to you."
" I have nothing to say to her."
" She has not given anything to Capi; per-
haps she wants to give something now."
" Then it is for Capi to go to her, and not
for me."
However, he decided to go, but took Capi
with him.    I followed them.
Meanwhile, a servant, carrying a lantern and
a wrapper, had come and taken up his position
beside the lady and the child.
Vitalis drew near and bowed, but coldly.
"Forgive my having troubled you," said the
lady, " but I wished to congratulate you."
Vitalis bent without answering a single word.
"I am a musician,"  continued   the   lady;
" that will show you I can appreciate a great
talent like yours."
Great talent in my master, in Vitalis, the
street-singer, the showman!    I stood amazed.
"There is no such thing as talent in an old
fellow like me," Vitalis said.
" Do not think that I am moved by indiscreet
curiosity," said the lady.
"Butt should have no objection to satisfy
any such curiosity. You were surprised, were
you not, to hear anything like singing from a
dog-showman?"
" Wonder-stricken!"
"It is very simple, however; I have not al-
ways been what I am now. Once upon a time,
in my youth,—it is a long while ago,—I was—
yes, I was the servant of a great singer; and in
imitation I used to repeat, like a parrot, some
of the songs that my master practiced in my
presence.    That is all."
The lady did not answer, but she threw a
searching look at Vitalis, who stood before her
somewhat ill at ease.
"Au revoir, monsieur," said she, with an em-
phasis upon the word "monsieur," which she
pronounced with a strange intonation. "Au
revoir; and once more let me thank you for the
emotion that I have just felt."
Then, stooping down to Capi, she put a piece
of gold into the wooden bowl.
I thought that Vitalis was going to hand the
lady to the door, but he did nothing of the sort;
and when she had moved away a few steps I
heard him mutter to himself two or three Italian
oaths in an undertone.
" But she has given Capi a louis," said I.
I thought that he was going to give me a
blow ; however, he staid his uplifted hand.
"A louis," he said, as if awaking from a
dream; " ah, yes, that is true. Poor Joli Cœur !
I had forgotten him; let us go back to him."
Our packing up was quickly over, and we
were not long in getting back to the inn.
I went up-stairs first, and ran into the room ;
the fire was not out, but it was no longer blaz-
ing. I quickly lighted a candle and looked for
Joli Cœur, wondering that I did not hear him.
He was lying upon his coverlet, stretched to
his full length; he had put on his general's uni-
form, and seemed to be asleep. I stooped over
him to take his hand gently without waking
him : it was cold.
Just then Vitalis came into the room. I turned
to him.
" Joli Cœur is cold!"
Vitalis bent down beside me.
" Alas!" said be, " he is dead. It was to be.
Look you, Remi, I did wrong in taking you
away from Mrs. Milligan. I am punished.
Zerbino, Dolce, and now Joli Cœur. It is not
at an end. "
ot
CHAPTER XVI.
ENTERING   PARIS.
We were still a long way from Paris. We
had to trudge, from morning until night, along
roads deep in snow, right in the teeth of the
north wind, which beat against our faces.^
How sad these long marches were,—Vitalis
walked on ahead, I behind him, and Capi at
my heels! For hours we walked thus in single
file without interchanging a word, our faces
colored purple by the cold wind, with wet feet
and empty stomachs. The people whom we
met stood still to stare at us. Strange ideas no
doubt flitted through their minds: whither
could that big old man be taking the child and
the dog?
This silence was excessively disagreeable to
me. I would have liked to talk. 1 wanted to
be roused and cheered; but Vitalis only an-
swered by a few curt words when I spoke to
him, and that, too, without turning round.
Luckily, Capi was more communicative, and
often, as I walked along, I felt a hot, wet
tongue against niy hand ; it was Capi, who was
licking me to tell me, " You know I am here,—
Capi, your friend Capi." And then I patted him
gently without stopping. He seemed as glad of
my token of affection as I was of his; we un-
derstood and loved each other; we were a
mutual support. He felt it, I am sure, as much
as I did, for a dog's heart is no less'sensitive
than a child's.
These pattings consoled Capi so much that I
think they made him sometimes forget the death
of his comrades. The force of habit gained
the upper hand, and he would stop suddenly in
the road as if to. watch his troop come up, as
in the time when he was their corporal and
needed to keep his eye on them. But after a ,
few seconds his memory returned, and reminded '
him why there was no troop to come up; then
he would run ahead of us, and look up in Vi-
talis's face, as if calling him to witness that he
was not to be blamed. If Dolce and Zerbino
were not in sight, it was because we were never
to see them again. His eyes said all this so ex-
pressively, so intelligibly, that our hearts were
wrung by it.
This was not the sort of thing to enliven our
way; and we badly needed some amusement,
or at least I did. All over the country lay the
white winding-sbeet of snow; no sun in the
sky, nothing but a pale, dim-colored daylight;
nothing stirring in the fields, no peasants at
work, no neighing of horses or lowing of cat-
tle; naught save the croaking of the crows
perched on the top boughs of the naked trees,
screeching out their hunger, unable to find a
spot of earth where to alight and look for a
few worms. No open houses in the villages;
all was silence and loneliness; in this bitter cold
the people stay in the chimney-corner, or go
about their work in closed stables and barns.
So we went straight on along tbe rugged or
slippery road without stopping, and without
making any other halt save for the night's shel-
ter in a stable or in a sheepfold, a piece of
bread, all too meager, alas! for our evening
meal, which was our dinner and supper all in
one. When we had the good luck to be sent
into a sheepfold we thought ourselves fortunate,
for the warmth of the sheep kept us from the
cold.
One by one the miles were accomplished* .
each halting-place brought us nearer Paris, and,
even if the mile-stones along the roadside had
not informed me, I should have become aware
of. it by the increase in the traffic, and also by
the color of the snow on the road, which was
much more dirty than that in the plains of
Champagne. Wonderful to say, to me at least,
the country did not seem more beautiful, the
villages were noway different from those which
we had passed through some days before. I
had so often heard the wonders of Paris talked
of that I imagined, in my innocence, these
wonders would make themselves manifest from
afar by something extraordinary. I did not
quite know what I was to expect, and dared