[Illustration: “I LIKE THIS FUR”]
THE LITTLE
MATCH MAN
_BY_ LUIGI BARZINI
_Illustrations by_
HATTIE LONGSTREET
THE PENN PUBLISHING
COMPANY—PHILADELPHIA
1917
COPYRIGHT 1917
THE PENN PUBLISHING
COMPANY
1917
The Little Match Man
THE LITTLE MATCH MAN
_Translated from the Italian of Luigi Barzini
by S. F. Woodruff_
CONTENTS
I. MY SURPRISE 11
II. THE FIRST ADVENTURE 19
III. HE CONFIDES IN ME 27
IV. ABOUT A STORK AND A BATTLE 33
V. THE HAJI SAVES THE WARRIOR 43
VI. THE SAD STORY OF THE TRANSFORMATION 51
VII. THE END OF FIAM’S FEARS 59
VIII. FIAM GOES TO THE WAR 67
IX. POSTAGE STAMPS 73
X. FIAMMIFERINO HAS A BATH 83
XI. A CURIOUS COSTUME 91
XII. FIAM AS A MOUNTAIN CLIMBER 97
XIII. A CHANGE OF RESIDENCE 103
XIV. FIAM OVERLOOKS THE BATTLE 109
XV. FIAM WEARS A FUR COAT 115
XVI. FIAM’S SILVER ARMOUR 123
XVII. A SINGULAR ENCOUNTER 129
XVIII. I AM ENTRUSTED WITH A DELICATE MISSION 137
XIX. THE EFFECT OF FIAM’S FORESIGHT 143
XX. FIAM GOES FORTH 149
XXI. THE ZEAL OF DR. TASA 159
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
“I Like This Fur” _Frontispiece_
The Little Man Moved 16
“Look at Me!” 22
“The Knot is Loose” 24
“You Are Right,” He Said 30
“My Friend the Stork Arrived” 36
“I Must Conquer or Cease to Live” 46
“You Will Be Adored” 48
“They Took Me First Into the Valley” 56
He Read What I Wrote 64
Going Down From Button to Button 70
He Hurried Under My Waistcoat 75
He Walked Over Them 80
Fiam Began to Dance 87
He Leaned Over 87
I Raised Him Up 88
Fiam Falls In 89
He Was Dreadfully Humiliated 95
“It Was a Long Tunnel” 101
I Found Him a Good Place 107
“Bravo, Advance!” 112
“Who is Winning?” 112
He Was Lying There Immovable 119
How Proud He Was 125
He Began to Caper 126
“I Will Tell You an Important Secret” 140
“Don’t Lose Time” 154
I Put Him on the Ground 157
[Illustration: THE LITTLE MATCH MAN—My Surprise]
CHAPTER I
MY SURPRISE
I am going to tell you something that you must never tell any one.
Stupid people wouldn’t believe it, anyway; and there are so many stupid
people that I should seem like the greatest fibber in the world. But if
you will keep still I will confide in you.
Once on a time, I was in Japan in a city called Takoshima. It rained
buckets full. I was thoroughly disgusted, and not being able to walk
about the streets, decorated with lanterns and weathercocks, and
through the gardens full of flowers, I had to stay shut up in a little
room sitting on the floor, for in Japan they don’t use chairs.
I kept yawning like a dog in front of a fire.
Trying to forget how tedious it was I began to poke into all the
corners of the room, hoping to discover something with which to amuse
myself. After a thorough search, all I found was a box of matches. For
lack of anything else to do they might help me to pass the time, as
I could place them in all sorts of positions, and make any number of
interesting designs.
In the box, however, there were only three, and you know with three
matches even a genius can’t make anything but a triangle, the simplest
of all the figures in geometry.
After all, I might try to make a little man. I had learned that game
long ago when I wore short trousers and went to school, and always had
my pockets stuffed full of marbles, pens, peach stones, buttons, twine
and other precious things—sometimes even matches.
With patience and a little string I used to tie them together and
make arms and legs, and so transform them into a very slim person that
seemed to me altogether lovely.
I began to work, and in a quarter of an hour the three matches had
become the little man that I remembered; and I can assure you, he still
looked to me extremely fine.
First he was very bold, with arms and legs stretched out in the
position of a fierce warrior. Then I changed him into a calm and
civilized person, and made him sit down on his box, and then began to
hold an old time conversation with him.
“Good-morning, little match[1]; how are you?”
[1] “Fiammiferino,” in Italian.
I suppose that you are surprised that a man of my age could still
amuse himself with this game. But you know a man is always a boy when
he is all by himself and lonely. If you look over the manuscripts of
illustrious scientists and celebrated writers, you will see here and
there the same kind of scribbling and the same little drawings that
they made in their copy books when they were boys and didn’t want to
write their compositions.
The little match naturally greeted my advances with dignified silence.
When I was young and talked to my toys, I made up their answers too,
and so it was possible to hold long and animated discussions. But in
these days my imagination is worn out. After a few minutes, my little
man looked to me like nothing but a match, and I thought I had better
use him in the way I was accustomed to. I put a cigarette in my mouth
and holding out my hand I said to him:
“Dear little match, I will now strike your head and....”
But I got no further. The little man moved, and falling on his knees
held out his hands as if in prayer.
I was very much surprised, and examined him carefully on every side.
I had made a great many little men just like him, but I had never seen
any one of them move by himself. I looked to see if there was anywhere
a bit of string that I had pulled without meaning to. But no, I found
nothing. The little man remained quite still in his new position, until
at last I was reassured. I thought the jar of some one passing outside,
or a puff of air had thrown him from the box, he was so slim and light.
I sat him up again and watched him closely.
After a few minutes I saw distinctly that he moved himself. For some
time he trembled very slightly, then he held out his arms, and slowly
rose to his feet. I could hear a tiny voice, which seemed to come from
him, but it was so feeble that compared with it the voice of a cricket
would sound like a trombone.
[Illustration: The First Adventure]