(_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
treasurer 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 lacerated and
weak. He had been assigned to 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 affliction
saddened and irritated him. Nevertheless, three travellers, by dint of
persisting in their questions, succeeded in making him unloose his
tongue; and in a few rough words, a mixture of Venetian, French, and
Spanish, he related his story. These three travellers were not Italians,
but they understood him; and partly out of compassion, partly because
they were excited with wine, they gave him soldi, jesting with him and
urging him on to tell them other things; and as several ladies entered
the saloon 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, with his surly
mien, 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 more humane reception than would have fallen to his lot if he had
arrived with empty pockets. This money was a little fortune for him; and
he was taking comfort out of this thought behind the curtain of his
berth, while the three travellers chatted away, as they sat round the
dining-table in the second-class saloon. 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
swindlers and brigands in Italy; the third said that Italian officials
do not know how to read.
"'It's an ignorant nation,' repeated the first. 'A filthy nation,' added
the second. 'Ro--' exclaimed the third, meaning to say 'robbers'; but
he was not allowed to finish the word: a tempest of soldi and half-lire
descended upon their heads and shoulders, and leaped upon the table and
the floor with a demoniacal noise. All three sprang up in a rage, looked
up, and received another handful of coppers in their faces.
"'Take back your soldi!' said the lad, disdainfully, thrusting his head
between the curtains of his berth; 'I do not accept alms from those who
insult my country.'"