Nobody's Boy/Chapter X
CHAPTER X
HOMELESS
WHEN I returned to the inn with heavy heart and red eyes, the landlord was standing in the yard. I was going to pass him to get to my dogs, but he stopped me.
"Well, what about your master?" he asked.
"He is sentenced."
"How long?"
"Two months' prison."
"How much fine?"
"One hundred francs."
"Two months ... one hundred francs," he repeated two or three times.
I wanted to go on, but again he stopped me.
"What are you going to do these two months?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Oh, you don't know. You've got some money to live on and to buy food for your animals, I suppose."
"No, sir."
"Then do you count on me keeping you?"
"No, sir, I don't count on any one."
That was true. I did not count upon any one.
"Your master already owes me a lot of money," he continued. "I can't board you for two months without knowing if I shall be paid. You'll have to go."
"Go! Where shall I go, sir?"
"That's not my business. I'm nothing to you. Why should I keep you?"
For a moment I was dazed. The man was right. Why should he give me shelter?
"Come, take your dogs and monkey and get out! Of course, you must leave your master's bag with me. When he comes out of jail, he'll come here to get it, and then he can settle his account."
An idea came to me.
"As you know he will settle his bill then, can't you keep me until then, and add what I cost to it?"
"Ah, ah! Your master might be able to pay for two days' lodging, but two months! that's a different thing."
"I'll eat as little as you wish."
"And your dogs and monkey! No, be off! You'll pick up enough in the villages."
"But, sir, how will my master find me when he comes out of prison? He'll come to look for me here."
"All you've got to do is to come back on that day."
"And if he writes to me?"
"I'll keep the letter."
"But if I don't answer him?..."
"Oh, stop your talk. Hurry up and get out! I give you five minutes. If I find you here when I come out again I'll settle you."
I knew it was useless to plead with him. I had to "get out." I went to the stables to get the dogs and Pretty-Heart, then strapping my harp on my shoulder I left the inn.
I was in a hurry to get out of town, for my dogs were not muzzled. What should I say if I met a policeman? That I had no money? It was the truth; I had only eleven sous in my pocket. That was not enough to buy muzzles. They might arrest me. If Vitalis and I were both in prison, whatever would become of the animals? I felt the responsibility of my position.
As I walked along quickly the dogs looked up at me in a way I could not fail to understand. They were hungry. Pretty-Heart, whom I carried, pulled my ear from time to time to force me to look at him. Then he rubbed his stomach in a manner that was no less expressive than the looks the dogs cast at me. I also was hungry. We had had no breakfast. My eleven sous could not buy enough for dinner and supper, so we should have to be satisfied with one meal, which, if we took it in the middle of the day, would serve us for two.
I wandered along. I did not care where I went; it was all the same to me, for I did not know the country. The question of finding a place in which to sleep did not worry me; we could sleep in the open air... But to eat!
We must have walked for about two hours before I dared to stop, and yet the dogs had looked up at me imploringly and Pretty-Heart had pulled my ear and rubbed his stomach incessantly. At last I felt that I was far enough away from the town to have nothing to fear. I went into the first bakery that I came across. I asked for one pound and a half of bread.
"You'd do well to take a two-pound loaf," said the woman. "That's not too much for your menagerie. You must feed the poor dogs."
Oh, no, it was not too much for my menagerie, but it was too much for my purse. The bread was five sous a pound; two pounds would cost ten sous. I did not think it wise to be extravagant before knowing what I was going to do the next day. I told the woman in an offhand manner that one pound and a half was quite enough and politely asked her not to cut more. I left the shop with my bread clutched tightly in my arms. The dogs jumped joyfully around me. Pretty-Heart pulled my hair and chuckled with glee.
We did not go far. At the first tree that we saw I placed my harp against the trunk and sat down on the grass. The dogs sat opposite me, Capi in the middle, Dulcie at one side, Zerbino on the other. Pretty-Heart, who was not tired, stood up on the watch, ready to snatch the first piece that he could. To eke out the meal was a delicate matter. I cut the bread into five parts, as near the same size as possible, and distributed the slices. I gave each a piece in turn, as though I were dealing cards. Pretty-Heart, who required less food than we, fared better, for he was quite satisfied while we were still famished. I took three pieces from his share and hid them in my bag to give the dogs later. Then, as there still remained a little piece, I broke it and we each had some; that was for dessert.
After the meal I felt that the moment had come for me to say a few words to my companions. Although I was their chief, I did not feel that I was too much above them not to wish them to take part in the grave situation in which we found ourselves.
Capi had probably guessed my intentions, for he sat with his big, intelligent eyes fixed on me.
"Yes, Capi," I said, "and you, Dulcie, Zerbino and Pretty-Heart, my friends, I've bad news for you. We shan't see our master for two whole months."
"Ouah," barked Capi.
"It's bad for him and it's also bad for us, for we depend on him for everything, and now he's gone, we haven't any money."
At the mention of the word money, which he perfectly understood, Capi rose on his hind paws and commenced to trot round as though he were collecting money from the "distinguished audience."
"I see you want to give a performance, Capi," I continued; "that's good advice, but should we make anything? That's the question. We have only three sous left, so you mustn't get hungry. You've all to be very obedient; that will make it easier for us all. You must help me all you can, you dogs and Pretty-Heart. I want to feel that I can count on you."
I would not make so bold as to say that they understood all I said, but they got the general idea. They knew by our master's absence that something serious had happened, and they had expected an explanation from me. If they did not understand all that I said to them, they were at least satisfied that I had their welfare at heart, and they showed their satisfaction by the attention they gave me.
Attention? Yes, on the part of the dogs only. It was impossible for Pretty-Heart to keep still for long. He could not fix his mind upon one subject for more than a minute. During the first part of my discourse he had listened to me with the greatest interest, but before I had said twenty words, he had sprung up into a tree, the branches of which hung over our heads, and was now swinging himself from branch to branch. If Capi had insulted me in like manner, my pride would certainly have been hurt; but I was never astonished at anything Pretty-Heart might do. He was so empty-headed. But after all, it was quite natural that he should want to have a little fun. I admit that I would liked to have done the same. I would have gone up that tree with pleasure, but the importance and dignity of my present office did not permit me any such distractions.
After we had rested a while I gave the sign to start. We had to find a place somewhere to lie down for the night and gain a few sous for our food for the next day. We walked for one hour, then came in sight of a village. I quickly dressed my troop, and in as good marching order as possible we made our entry. Unfortunately, we had no fife and we lacked Vitalis' fine, commanding presence. Like a drum major, he always attracted the eye. I had not the advantage of being tall, nor was I possessed of a wonderful head. Quite the reverse, I was small and thin and I must have worn a very anxious look. While marching I glanced to the right and to the left to see what effect we were producing. Very little, I regret to say. No one followed us. Upon reaching the small square upon which was a fountain shaded with trees, I took my harp and commenced to play a waltz. The music was gay, my fingers were light, but my heart was heavy.
I told Zerbino and Dulcie to waltz together. They obeyed me at once and commenced to whirl round, keeping time. But no one put themselves out to come and see us, and yet in the doorways I saw several women knitting and talking. I continued to play, Zerbino and Dulcie went on with their waltz. Perhaps if one decided to come over to us, a second would come, then more and more.
I played on and on, Zerbino and Dulcie went round and round, but the women in the doorways did not even look over at us. It was discouraging. But I was determined not to be discouraged. I played with all my might, making the cords of my harp vibrate, almost to breaking them. Suddenly a little child, taking its first steps, trotted from his home and came towards us. No doubt the mother would follow him, and after the mother a friend would come, and we should have an audience, and then a little money.
I played more softly so as not to frighten the baby, and also to entice him to come nearer. With hands held out and swaying first on one foot, then on the other, he came on slowly. A few steps more and he would have reached us, but at that moment the mother looked round. She saw her baby at once. But instead of running after him as I had thought she would, she called to him, and the child obediently turned round and went back to her. Perhaps these people did not like dance music; it was quite possible.
I told Zerbino and Dulcie to lie down, and I began to sing my canzonetta. Never did I try so hard to please.
I had reached the end of the second line, when I saw a man in a round jacket, and I felt that he was coming towards me. At last! I tried to sing with even more fervor.
"Hello, what are you doing here, young rogue?" he cried.
I stopped, amazed at his words, and watched him coming nearer, with my mouth open.
"What are you doing here, I say?"
"Singing, sir."
"Have you got permission to sing on a public square in our village?"
"No, sir."
"Well, be off; if you don't I'll have you arrested."
"But, sir..."
"Be off, you little beggar."
I knew from my poor master's example what it would cost me if I went against the town authorities. I did not make him repeat his order; I hurried off.
Beggar! That was not fair. I had not begged; I had sung. In five minutes I had left behind me this inhospitable, but well guarded, village. My dogs followed me with their heads lowered, and their tails between their legs. They certainly knew that some bad luck had befallen us. Capi, from time to time, went ahead of us and turned round to look at me questioningly with his intelligent eyes. Any one else in his place would have questioned me, but Capi was too well bred to be indiscreet. I saw his lip tremble in the effort he made to keep back his protests.
When we were far enough away from the village, I signed to them to stop, and the three dogs made a circle round me, Capi in the middle, his eyes on mine.
"As we had no permission to play, they sent us away," I explained.
"Well, then?" asked Capi, with a wag of his head.
"So then we shall have to sleep in the open air and go without supper."
At the word "supper" there was a general bark. I showed them my three sous.
"You know that is all we have. If we spend those three sous to-night, we shall have nothing left for breakfast to-morrow. So, as we have had something to-day, it is better to save this." And I put my three sous back in my pocket.
Capi and Dulcie bent their heads resignedly, but Zerbino, who was not so good, and who besides was a gourmand, continued to growl. I looked at him severely.
"Capi, explain to Zerbino, he doesn't seem to understand," I said to faithful Capitano.
Capi at once tapped Zerbino with his paw. It seemed as though an argument was taking place between the two dogs. One may find the word argument too much, when applied to dogs, but animals certainly have a peculiar language of their kind. As to dogs, they not only know how to speak, they know how to read. Look at them with their noses in the air or, with lowered head, sniffing at the ground, smelling the bushes and stones. Suddenly they'll stop before a clump of grass, or a wall, and remain on the alert for a moment. We see nothing on the wall, but the dog reads all sorts of curious things written in mysterious letters which we do not understand.
What Capi said to Zerbino I did not hear, for if dogs can understand the language of men, men do not understand their language. I only saw that Zerbino refused to listen to reason, and that he insisted that the three sous should be spent immediately. Capi got angry, and it was only when he showed his teeth that Zerbino, who was a bit of a coward, lapsed into silence. The word "silence" is also used advisedly. I mean by silence that he laid down.
The weather was beautiful, so that to sleep in the open air was not a serious matter. The only thing was to keep out of the way of the wolves, if there were any in this part of the country.
We walked straight ahead on the white road until we found a place. We had reached a wood. Here and there were great blocks of granite. The place was very mournful and lonely, but there was no better, and I thought that we might find shelter from the damp night air amongst the granite. When I say "we," I mean Pretty-Heart and myself, for the dogs would not catch cold sleeping out of doors. I had to be careful of myself, for I knew how heavy was my responsibility. What would become of us all if I fell ill, and what would become of me if I had Pretty-Heart to nurse?
We found a sort of grotto between the stones, strewn with dried leaves. This was very nice. All that was lacking was something to eat. I tried not to think that we were hungry. Does not the proverb say, "He who sleeps, eats."
Before lying down I told Capi that I relied upon him to keep watch, and the faithful dog, instead of sleeping with us on the pine leaves, laid down like a sentinel at the entrance of our quarters. I could sleep in peace, for I knew that none would come near without me being warned by Capi. Yet, although at rest on this point, I could not sleep at once. Pretty-Heart was asleep beside me, wrapped up in my coat; Zerbino and Dulcie were stretched at my feet. But my anxiety was greater than my fatigue.
This first day had been bad; what would the next day be? I was hungry and thirsty, and yet I only had three sous. How could I buy food for all if I did not earn something the next day? And the muzzles? And the permission to sing? Oh, what was to be done! Perhaps we should all die of hunger in the bushes. While turning over these questions in my mind, I looked up at the stars, which shone in the dark sky. There was not a breath of wind. Silence everywhere. Not the rustle of a leaf or the cry of a bird, nor the rumble of a cart on the road. As far as my eye could see, stretched space. How alone we were; how abandoned! The tears filled my eyes. Poor Mother Barberin! poor Vitalis.
I was lying on my stomach, crying into my hands, when suddenly I felt a breath pass through my hair. I turned over quickly, and a big soft tongue licked my wet cheek. It was Capi who had heard me crying and had come to comfort me as he had done on the first day of my wanderings. With my two hands I took him by the neck and kissed him on his wet nose. He uttered two or three little mournful snorts, and it seemed to me that he was crying with me. I slept. When I awoke it was full day and Capi was sitting beside me, looking at me. The birds were singing in the trees. In the distance I could hear a church bell ringing the Angelus, the morning prayer. The sun was already high in the sky, throwing its bright rays down to comfort heart and body.
We started off, going in the direction of the village where we should surely find a baker: when one goes to bed without dinner or supper one is hungry early in the morning. I made up my mind to spend the three sous, and after that we would see what would happen.
Upon arriving in the village there was no need for me to ask where the baker lived; our noses guided us straight to the shop. My sense of smell was now as keen as that of my dogs. From the distance I sniffed the delicious odor of hot bread. We could not get much for three sous, when it costs five sous a pound. Each of us had but a little piece, so our breakfast was soon over.
We _had_ to make money that day. I walked through the village to find a favorable place for a performance, and also to note the expressions of the people, to try and guess if they were enemies or friends. My intention was not to give the performance at once. It was too early, but after finding a place we would come back in the middle of the day and take a chance.
I was engrossed with this idea, when suddenly I heard some one shouting behind me. I turned round quickly and saw Zerbino racing towards me, followed by an old woman. It did not take me long to know what was the matter. Profiting by my preoccupation, Zerbino had run into a house and stolen a piece of meat. He was racing alone, carrying his booty in his jaws.
"Thief! thief!" cried the old woman; "catch him! Catch all of 'em!"
When I heard her say this, I felt that somehow I was guilty, or at least, that I was responsible for Zerbino's crime, so I began to run. What could I say to the old woman if she demanded the price of the stolen meat? How could I pay her? If we were arrested they would put us in prison. Seeing me flying down the road, Dulcie and Capi were not long following my example; they were at my heels, while Pretty-Heart, whom I carried on my shoulder, clung round my neck so as not to fall.
Some one else cried: "Stop thief!" and others joined in the chase. But we raced on. Fear gave us speed. I never saw Dulcie run so fast; her feet barely touched the ground. Down a side street and across a field we went, and soon we had outstripped our pursuers, but I did not stop running until I was quite out of breath. We had raced at least two miles. I turned round. No one was following us. Capi and Dulcie were still at my heels, Zerbino was in the distance. He had stopped probably to eat his piece of meat. I called him, but he knew very well that he deserved a severe punishment, so instead of coming to me, he ran away as fast as he could. He was famished, that was why he had stolen the meat. But I could not accept this as an excuse. He had stolen. If I wanted to preserve discipline in my troop, the guilty one must be punished. If not, in the next village Dulcie would do the same, and then Capi would succumb to the temptation. I should have to punish Zerbino publicly. But in order to do that I should have to catch him, and that was not an easy thing to do.
I turned to Capi.
"Go and find Zerbino," I said gravely.
He started off at once to do what I told him, but it seemed to me that he went with less ardor than usual. From the look that he gave me, I saw that he would far rather champion Zerbino than be my envoy. I sat down to await his return with the prisoner. I was pleased to get a rest after our mad race. When we stopped running we had reached the bank of a canal with shady trees and fields on either side.
An hour passed. The dogs had not returned. I was beginning to feel anxious when at last Capi appeared alone, his head hanging down.
"Where is Zerbino?"
Capi laid down in a cowed attitude. I looked at him and noticed that one of his ears was bleeding. I knew what had happened. Zerbino had put up a fight. I felt that, although Capi had obeyed my orders, he had considered that I was too severe and had let himself be beaten. I could not scold him. I could only wait until Zerbino chose to return. I knew that sooner or later he would feel sorry and would come back and take his punishment.
I stretched myself out under a tree, holding Pretty-Heart tight for fear he should take it into his head to join Zerbino. Dulcie and Capi slept at my feet. Time passed. Zerbino did not appear. At last I also dropped off to sleep.
Several hours had passed when I awoke. By the sun I could tell that it was getting late, but there was no need for the sun to tell me that. My stomach cried out that it was a long time since I had eaten that piece of bread. And I could tell from the looks of the two dogs and Pretty-Heart that they were famished. Capi and Dulcie fixed their eyes on me piteously; Pretty-Heart made grimaces. But still Zerbino had not come back. I called to him, I whistled, but in vain. Having well lunched he was probably digesting his meal, cuddled up in a bush.
The situation was becoming serious. If I left this spot, Zerbino perhaps would get lost, for he might not be able to find us; then if I stayed, there was no chance of me making a little money to buy something to eat. Our hunger became more acute. The dogs fixed their eyes on me imploringly, and Pretty-Heart rubbed his stomach and squealed angrily.
Still Zerbino did not return. Once more I sent Capi to look for the truant, but at the end of half an hour he came back alone. What was to be done?
Although Zerbino was guilty, and through his fault we were put into this terrible position, I could not forsake him. What would my master say if I did not take his three dogs back to him? And then, in spite of all, I loved Zerbino, the rogue! I decided to wait until evening, but it was impossible to remain inactive. If we were doing something I thought we might not feel the pangs of hunger so keenly. If I could invent something to distract us, we might, for the time being, forget that we were so famished. What could we do?
I pondered over the question. Then I remembered that Vitalis had told me that when a regiment was tired out by a long march, the band played the gayest airs so that the soldiers should forget their fatigue. If I played some gay pieces on my harp, perhaps we could forget our hunger. We were all so faint and sick, yet if I played something lively and made the two poor dogs dance with Pretty-Heart the time might pass quicker. I took my instrument, which I had placed up against a tree and, turning my back to the canal I put my animals in position and began to play a dance.
At first neither the dogs nor the monkey seemed disposed to dance. All they wanted was food. My heart ached as I watched their pitiful attitude. But they must forget their hunger, poor little things! I played louder and quicker, then, little by little, the music produced its customary effect. They danced and I played on and on.
Suddenly I heard a clear voice, a child's voice, call out: "Bravo." The voice came from behind me. I turned round quickly.
A barge had stopped on the canal. The two horses which dragged the boat were standing on the opposite bank. It was a strange barge. I had never seen one like it. It was much shorter than the other boats on the canal, and the deck was fashioned like a beautiful veranda, covered with plants and foliage. I could see two people, a lady, who was still young, with a beautiful sad face, and a boy about my own age, who seemed to be lying down. It was evidently the little boy who had called out "Bravo!"
I was very surprised at seeing them. I lifted my hat to thank them for their applause.
"Are you playing for your own pleasure?" asked the lady, speaking French with a foreign accent.
"I am keeping the dogs in practice and also ... it diverts their attention."
The child said something. The lady bent over him.
"Will you play again?" she then asked, turning round to me.
Would I play? Play for an audience who had arrived at such a moment! I did not wait to be asked twice.
"Would you like a dance or a little comedy?" I asked.
"Oh, a comedy," cried the child. But the lady said she preferred a dance.
"A dance is too short," said the boy.
"If the 'distinguished audience' wishes, after the dance, we will perform our different rôles."
This was one of my master's fine phrases. I tried to say it in the same grand manner as he. Upon second thought, I was not sorry that the lady did not wish for a comedy, for I don't see how I could have given a performance; not only was Zerbino absent, but I had none of the "stage fittings" with me.
I played the first bars of a waltz. Capi took Dulcie by the waist with his two paws and they whirled round, keeping good time. Then Pretty-Heart danced alone. Successively, we went through all our repertoire. We did not feel tired now. The poor little creatures knew that they would be repaid with a meal and they did their best. I also.
Then, suddenly, in the midst of a dance in which all were taking part, Zerbino came out from behind a bush, and as Capi and Dulcie and Pretty-Heart passed near him, he boldly took his place amongst them.
While playing and watching my actors, I glanced from time to time at the little boy. He seemed to take great pleasure in what we were doing, but he did not move. He looked as though he was lying on a stretcher. The boat had drifted right to the edge of the bank, and now I could see the boy plainly. He had fair hair. His face was pale, so white that one could see the blue veins on his forehead. He had the drawn face of a sick child.
"How much do you charge for seats at your performance?" asked the lady.
"You pay according to the pleasure we have given you."
"Then, Mamma, you must pay a lot," said the child. He added something in a language that I did not understand.
"My son would like to see your actors nearer."
I made a sign to Capi. With delight, he sprang onto the boat.
"And the others!" cried the little boy.
Zerbino and Dulcie followed Capi's example.
"And the monkey!"
Pretty-Heart could have easily made the jump, but I was never sure of him. Once on board he might do some tricks that certainly would not be to the lady's taste.
"Is he spiteful?" she asked.
"No, madam, but he is not always obedient, and I am afraid that he will not behave himself."
"Well, bring him on yourself."
She signed to a man who stood near the rail. He came forward and threw a plank across to the bank. With my harp on my shoulder and Pretty-Heart in my arms I stepped up the plank.
"The monkey! the monkey!" cried the little boy, whom the lady addressed as Arthur.
I went up to him and, while he stroked and petted Pretty-Heart, I watched him. He was strapped to a board.
"Have you a father, my child?" asked the lady.
"Yes, but I am alone just now."
"For long?"
"For two months."
"Two months! Oh, poor little boy. At your age how is it that you happen to be left all alone?"
"It has to be, madam."
"Does your father make you take him a sum of money at the end of two months? Is that it?"
"No, madam, he does not force me to do anything. If I can make enough to live with my animals, that is all."
"And do you manage to get enough?"
I hesitated before replying. I felt a kind of awe, a reverence for this beautiful lady. Yet she talked to me so kindly and her voice was so sweet, that I decided to tell her the truth. There was no reason why I should not. Then I told her how Vitalis and I had been parted, that he had gone to prison because he had defended me, and how since he had gone I had been unable to make any money.
While I was talking, Arthur was playing with the dogs, but he was listening to what I said.
"Then how hungry you all must be!" he cried.
At this word, which the animals well knew, the dogs began to bark and Pretty-Heart rubbed his stomach vigorously.
"Oh, Mamma!" cried Arthur.
The lady said a few words in a strange language to a woman, whose head I could see through a half open door. Almost immediately the woman appeared with some food.
"Sit down, my child," said the lady.
I did so at once. Putting my harp aside I quickly sat down in the chair at the table; the dogs grouped themselves around me. Pretty-Heart jumped on my knee.
"Do your dogs eat bread?" asked Arthur.
"Do they eat bread!"
I gave them a piece which they devoured ravenously.
"And the monkey?" said Arthur.
But there was no occasion to worry about Pretty-Heart, for while I was serving the dogs he had taken a piece of crust from a meat pie and was almost choking himself underneath the table. I helped myself to the pie and, if I did not choke like Pretty-Heart, I gobbled it up no less gluttonously than he.
"Poor, poor child!" said the lady.
Arthur said nothing, but he looked at us with wide open eyes, certainly amazed at our appetites, for we were all as famished as one another, even Zerbino, who should have been somewhat appeased by the meat that he had stolen.
"What would you have eaten to-night if you had not met us?" asked Arthur.
"I don't think we should have eaten at all."
"And to-morrow?"
"Perhaps to-morrow we should have had the luck to meet some one like we have to-day."
Arthur then turned to his mother. For some minutes they spoke together in a foreign language. He seemed to be asking for something which at first she seemed not quite willing to grant. Then, suddenly, the boy turned his head. His body did not move.
"Would you like to stay with us?" he asked.
I looked at him without replying; I was so taken back by the question.
"My son wants to know if you would like to stay with us?" repeated the lady.
"On this boat?"
"Yes, my little boy is ill and he is obliged to be strapped to this board. So that the days will pass more pleasantly for him, I take him about in this boat. While your master is in prison, if you like, you may stay here with us. Your dogs and your monkey can give a performance every day, and Arthur and I will be the audience. You can play your harp for us. You will be doing us a service and we, on our side, may be useful to you."
To live on a boat! What a kind lady. I did not know what to say. I took her hand and kissed it.
"Poor little boy!" she said, almost tenderly.
She had said she would like me to play my harp: this simple pleasure I would give her at once. I wanted to show how grateful I was. I took my instrument and, going to the end of the boat, I commenced to play softly. The lady put a little silver whistle to her lips and blew it.
I stopped playing, wondering why she had whistled. Was it to tell me that I was playing badly, or to ask me to stop? Arthur, who saw everything that passed around him, noticed my uneasiness.
"My mamma blew the whistle for the horses to go on," he said.
That was so; the barge, towed by the horses, glided over the soft waters which lapped gently against the keel; on either side were trees and behind us fell the oblique rays from the setting sun.
"Will you play?" asked Arthur.
He beckoned to his mother. She sat down beside him. He took her hand and kept it in his, and I played to them all the pieces that my master had taught me.