FIAM AS A MOUNTAIN CLIMBER
Twice more during that long journey I thought I had lost Fiam. Each
time it was on account of that hole in his box through which he crawled
out to ramble, and which he couldn’t always find on his way back.
One morning in a Chinese village, where I had passed the night, just as
I was mounting my horse to ride out to the army I discovered that Fiam
had disappeared.
I looked everywhere, especially among my postage stamps, but couldn’t
find him.
In the afternoon as I lay under a tree in the stillness of a deserted
field I thought I heard his little voice.
“Fiam! Fiam!” I called.
I could make out the response distinctly:
“Miferino! Miferino!”
As I was warm I had taken off my waistcoat to use as a pillow as I lay
stretched out. The voice came from that.
I fumbled around until I found him shut in between the lining and the
cloth. I pulled him out and greeted him effusively.
“How did you ever get there?”
“I have a habit of going out at night.”
“A very bad one.”
“Well, what do you expect me to do? I don’t sleep. Last night I went
out as usual. Your watch near my house made such an abominable noise,
tic, tac! It was like a blacksmith’s forge. Never mind. I went out and
took a trip over your clothes.”
“Over my clothes?”
“Exactly; you had thrown them on the floor, and they made a beautiful
landscape.”
“A landscape?”
“Surely. All in a heap they looked like mountains and valleys, ravines,
plains, precipices and grottoes—all kinds of things. It was a great
pleasure to travel all over it. I climbed up and slid down. I sat on
round things like immense tubes.”
“They were folds.”
“I know it, but your folds are gigantic to me. As I went around I
discovered the entrance to a cave. I went in. It was a long tunnel
where I had to crawl on all fours. When I got half-way in I wanted to
turn around; but I couldn’t, for my hands and feet got caught in the
folds, so I had to go forward.”
“I see; you were in one of the sleeves.”
“When I came out from the tunnel, I discovered a great opening with a
shed over it. I entered and found a cavern full of paper.”
“It was a pocket.”
“I traveled around until I found a little hole I could scarcely squeeze
through.”
“Ah, yes! My pocket is a little ripped.”
“I was now in a large and empty, wearisome place, and when I wanted to
get back I couldn’t find the hole through which I entered. Imagine my
suffering! After a while I felt you take up the clothes and put them
on. I screamed as loud as I could, but you didn’t hear me. I knew that
you were looking for me, but I could do nothing. But, at last, you
heard me and I am saved.”
“I say, Fiam....”
“Miferino!”
“You ought to promise me not to go out at night or I shall be obliged
to make you an iron house and shut you up for a hundred years. Just
think, if I lose you the first person who finds you will burn you up
without giving you time to say, ‘Ouch!’”
He promised. But a few days later he was gone again.
[Illustration: A Change of Residence]