Heart/The Little Patriot of Padua

by Edmondo De Amicis

 

THE LITTLE PATRIOT OF PADUA

(The Monthly Story.)

Saturday, 29th.

I will not be a “cowardly soldier”, no; but I should be much more willing to go to school if the master would tell us a story every day, like the one he told us this morning.

“Every month” said he, “I shall tell you one; I shall give it to you in writing, and it will always be the tale of a fine and noble deed performed by a boy. This one is called The Little Patriot of Padua. Here it is.

“A French steamer set out from Barcelona, a city in Spain, for Genoa; there were on board Frenchmen, Italians, Spaniards, and Swiss. Among the rest was a lad of eleven, poorly clad, and alone, who always held himself aloof, like a wild animal, and stared at all with gloomy eyes. He had good reasons for looking at every one with forbidding eyes. Two years previous to this time his parents, peasants in the neighborhood of Padua, had sold him to a company of mountebanks, who, after they had taught him how to perform tricks, by dint of blows and kicks and starving, had carried him all over France and Spain, beating him continually and never giving him enough to eat.

“On his arrival in Barcelona, being no longer able to endure ill treatment and hunger, and being reduced to a pitiable condition, he had fled from his slave-master and had betaken himself for protection to the Italian consul, who, moved with compassion, had placed him on board of this steamer, and had given him a letter to the guardsman of Genoa, who was to send the boy back to his parents to the parents who had sold him like a beast. The poor lad was weak and ragged. He had been put in the second-class cabin. Every one stared at him; some questioned him, but he made no reply, and seemed to hate and despise every one, to such an extent had privation and suffering borne him down and saddened him. Nevertheless, three travelers, persisting in their questioning, succeeded in making him unloosen his tongue; and in a few rough words, a mixture of Venetian, French, and Spanish, he related his story. These three travelers were not Italian, but they understood him; and partly out of compassion, partly because they were excited with wine, they gave him a few coins, jesting with him and urging him on to tell them other things; and as several ladies entered the salon at the moment, they gave him some more money for the purpose of making a show, and cried: ‘Take this! Take this, too!’ as they made the money rattle on the table.

“The boy pocketed it all, thanking them in a low voice, and with his sad face, but with a look that was for the first time smiling and affectionate. Then he climbed into his berth, drew the curtain, and lay quiet, thinking over his affairs. With this money he would be able to purchase some good food on board, after having suffered for lack of bread for two years; he “could buy a jacket as soon as he landed in Genoa, after having gone about clad in rags for two years; and he could also, by carrying it home, insure for himself from his father and mother a kinder greeting than would fall to his lot if he arrived with empty pockets. This money was a little fortune for him; and he was taking comfort out of the thought behind the curtain of his berth, while the three travelers chatted away, as they sat around the dining-table in the second-class salon.

“They were drinking and discussing their travels and the countries which they had seen; and from one topic to another they began to discuss Italy. One of them began to complain of the inns, another of the railways, and then, growing warmer, they all began to speak evil of everything. One would have preferred a trip in Lapland; another declared that he had found nothing but robbers and brigands in Italy; the third said that Italian officials do not know how to read.

“‘It's an ignorant nation,’ continued the first.

“‘A filthy nation,’ added the second.

“‘Rob—’ exclaimed the third, meaning to say ‘robbers’; but he was not allowed to finish the word: a tempest of small coin came down upon their heads and shoulders, fell over the table and the floor with a great clatter. All three sprang up in a rage, looked up, and received another handful of coppers in their faces.

“‘Take back your money!’ said the lad, disdainfully, thrusting his head between the curtains of his berth; ‘I do not accept alms from those who insult my country!’”