CHAPTER VIHardships at SalernoGuiseppe was barely awake on the morning after the fete when he took out his money–bag to recount his gains."I'll sell these old puppets," he said to himself. "What do the fewsoldithey bring in amount to, compared with Pappina? If the minx only remains as bewitching as she is now, I'll not complain. Hang it all! Why can't every day be fete day!"He glanced at the child, curled up on the ground, asleep."I may as well let her rest. It isn't much of a trip to Salerno, and I don't suppose it matters much when we get there; nothing special on hand there that I know of. I hope we'll find plenty of foreigners everywhere we go. They appreciate Pappina."Guiseppe filled his pipe and as he smoked he wove a bright dream of wealth. Happy thought!He smiled broadly and joyfully rubbed his hands together."I'll take her to America!" he chuckled to himself. "Why not? The Punchinellos too!" His countenance fell. "No, no," he muttered, "I can't talk in English for the puppets. How, how am I to manage that?"He became so absorbed in his thoughts that he forgot the pipe he was smoking. It dropped from his mouth as he exclaimed gleefully:"Aha! I have it! A hand–organ in America with my beautiful Pappina! She'll make our fortune."He picked up his pipe and jumped quickly to his feet, calling to Marta."Get up, Marta, and wake the beauty! Up, I say! Let's be off. Make haste, Marta. We'll soon be rich; do you hear?"Pappina, hearing his loud call, sprang up at once. She rubbed her eyes, trying to make sure she was awake."Was I dreaming, Guiseppe, or did you—did I really hear you say we'll soon be rich?" she asked.Guiseppe hesitated a moment before replying: "Si, si, carina.If you'll always sing anddance as you did yesterday, we will go to America where there is no end of money.""Oh, I'd like that!" and Pappina clapped her hands.Something in her movements reminded Guiseppe of a song he used to sing."Come, girl," he said cheerfully, "here's a song—a new one that just suits you. Funny I never thought of it before! Listen, my beauty, and see how quickly you can learn it. It will bring gold, and gold brings everything. It will take us across the ocean to America. Come—stand up—so!"Pappina needed no second bidding. She took her position opposite Guiseppe, alert to follow every tone, word, and gesture. Many times the man stopped to laugh at and applaud Pappina for her wonderful aptness, and his praises made her more keen to imitate him perfectly.The child's dark hair hung in disorder about her animated face, her great black eyes were aglow as she sang, danced and recited, going over the song again and again, she and Guiseppe both so interested that neither realized the flight of time.Marta dared not interrupt them. She watched Pappina with pain in her heart, saying almost continually to herself:"Grand dio! Quando, quando[Great God! When, when]?"Gold! Riches! They meant nothing to her. Her one desire was to see Pappina liberated from this life she felt sure would destroy her health, innocence, and beauty.Hark! "Le parlete d'amore," that beautiful air from "Faust," came floating to their ears. The fresh, clear voice rang through the morning air."Odi, chi e[Listen, who is it]?" Pappina exclaimed, peering down the winding road. A young girl came around a bend, leading a small pig, and the child darted toward her. A few yards from the singer she paused, uncertain whether to continue or not, but being reassured by a bright smile from the girl, she hastened on. Reaching the maiden, she stopped, and looked wonderingly at the pig."What is it you have?" she asked timidly, for it is only in the country that girls have pet pigs, and Pappina had never seen one."What have I? Why, don't you know, littleone? It is my pet pig." The young girl laid her hand caressingly on the animal's head as she spoke.Tender little Pappina had never in her short life had anything to pet, not even a doll. She took hold of the ribbon around the pig's neck."How pretty!" she exclaimed. "He won't hurt me, will he? What's his name?""I named him Savio, because he is so wise.""Isn't he beautiful! May I pet him?"Pappina had not waited for permission, but was patting the pig's head. As she stroked his bristles she prattled to the girl."You see," she said confidingly, "we are poor now, but we are going to America, and we are going to get rich. Guiseppe said so this very morning. When we come back I want to buy Savio. You'll let me have him, won't you? I'll be good to him. I'll buy him a new ribbon every day, and a necklace, too—that is, if there's money enough," she added thoughtfully.The girl, Susanna, laughed heartily as she replied:"When you come back from America, you shall have my dear Savio. Now I must be going.Good–by." She waved her hand to Pappina as she moved on.Guiseppe and Marta stood watching Pappina with amusement, but as she started to follow Susanna and Savio, Guiseppe called: "Pappina, Pappina."Pappina either did not or would not hear. Louder and louder Guiseppe shouted her name. Susanna stopped."Is it not you he calls?" she asked. "Are you not Pappina?""Yes, yes, but I want to walk just a little way with you and Savio. You'll let me, won't you?""Pappina!" Guiseppe's voice sounded harsh and angry."You had better go back, little one.Addio."For a moment Pappina stood looking after Susanna, then with a burst of song turned and ran back to Marta and Guiseppe. She did not heed Guiseppe's scowl, but smiled into his face."Guiseppe," she cried, "I must learn the new song at once. I want to earn lots of money, so we can go to America, and get rich, and have pet pigs. Wasn't he just beautiful? His name is Savio, and she says I may have him when we comeback from America. Oh, you don't know how much I want a pig like Savio!"Guiseppe could not help smiling at Pappina's prattle. He put his hand under her chin and lifting her radiant little face toward his, he teasingly asked:"Wouldn't you rather have Savio cooked like the piece of pig you had at Cava?Ebbene!Now for the song. Where did we stop?""I have been thinking," Marta timidly interrupted, "that perhaps, if we are going to America, and if—if you both wish me to do so, I could teach Pappina an English song." She glanced at Guiseppe as though fearful he might laugh at the idea, but to her relief he looked pleased."How about it, little one?" he asked, turning to Pappina. "Would you like to learn to sing an English song?"Pappina always showed her greatest delight by clapping her hands. She clapped them now."Che gioia[What joy]!" she cried. "Oh, Guiseppe, let me learn it now, this very minute! won't you please, Guiseppe? Because you know we are sure to need it in America. Come, quickly, Marta."Marta grew nervous."I cannot sing," she cried, "I have no music in my voice, but I—""Never mind your voice! Pappina will do the singing. Are you both ready? Then why don't you begin?" Guiseppe spoke impatiently.Marta tremblingly began. The words were barely out of her mouth when Pappina repeated them eagerly, but always with an "ah" at the end making them all like Italian words. Marta smiled at the pronunciation, but Guiseppe was delighted."Bravo, bravo!" he cried. "Teach it well, Marta! She can sing it here for all the English and Americans we meet. It will charm them to hear her sing in their own tongue; it will mean money, and it's money that will take us to America."Childlike, Pappina soon grew tired of trying to learn the song. She wanted to be journeying on to new people, sights, and scenes. Guiseppe, too, became impatient to be off in quest of that which would take them to "the land of money," as he called America again and again.He was walking, as usual, with bowed head,his eyes on the ground, when he suddenly sprang to the side of the road and with the toe of his boot pushed back the dry grass that was partially concealing a string of gold beads. He picked them up."Aha!" he cried, holding them up for view, "they are gold! Luck is with us. Gold! I can sell them." He put them into a pocket of his coat."Guiseppe, I want them. Give them to me." Pappina dug her little sun–browned hand into his pocket and brought up the bright beads. Guiseppe snatched them from her. Pappina stamped her foot. "Guiseppe, I want those beads!""You can't have them.""Guiseppe, give them to me! Please, dear Guiseppe!"She begged, threatened and cried, but all in vain."Enough, enough, I say! Come on," Guiseppe commanded, as he started forward."I'll not stir till you give me those beads," the child declared.Guiseppe came back to her and raised his hand threateningly, but stubborn Pappina declared again:"I'll not sing for you ever, Guiseppe, if you keep those pretty beads. I'll never, never sing for you again, and then we can never go to America. I'd sooner give up the pet pig than those gold beads."Marta grew bold. "Oh, please let her have them," she pleaded."Hold your tongue!" her husband answered roughly. "You'd have me give her my head if she asked for it."Guiseppe again lifted his hand threateningly and had started toward Pappina when a carriage drove up. The merry party in it—foreigners on their way from Cava to Salerno—had already noted his menacing air, Marta's pained look, and the beautiful child pouting by the wayside.They stopped. Only Marta understood their English words."Poor little thing, she looks ready to cry. Do find out about them," begged one of the ladies of the party."Do you understand English?" her husband asked Guiseppe."Yes, sir," Marta answered for her husband."What have you to entertain us?""We have the Punchinellos, and we have the child, who sings and dances.""We had enough of the Punchinellos in Naples. Let the little girl give us a song," cried an Englishman, taking a coin from his pocket. Others did the same. "A song, a song!" they cried.Marta translated to Guiseppe."Pappina, sing," he commanded."No."Guiseppe felt an anger he dared not show."Pappina, sing for America," he begged.The obstinate little girl shook her head."I told you, Guiseppe," she answered, "I'll never sing till you give me those beads."Guiseppe stood for a moment with his hand on the beads, irresolute. He heard the jingle of coins waiting to be paid for the song.Pappina was quick to notice that his hand was in his pocket."Guiseppe, won't you give me the beads?" she pleaded. "I want them so much. Please, dear Guiseppe!"She stretched out her hand for them just as the gentleman who was driving took up the lines to continue the drive."Stop, we are ready," cried Guiseppe, handing the beads to Pappina. She fastened the string around her neck, took up her tambourine, and sang.True little Neapolitan, in her delight over the new necklace she sang and danced with such spirit that even Guiseppe was surprised. The tourists, having paid well for Pappina's songs, went on their way."That pretty lady in blue," said Marta as the travelers departed, "was wondering if we treat you well, Pappina. She said she wished she could speak Italian and find out if you are our own child, and if you are happy in your life, or only singing to keep from being beaten, as so many little singers have to do."Pappina laughed merrily."Why didn't you tell her that I always love you, Marta?" she cried. "And sometimes I love Guiseppe."She went to Guiseppe and reaching up on her tiptoes, patted his cheek."CaroGuiseppe," she said, "I love you to–day because you gave me the beads. Perhaps to–morrow I shall hate you, and—really, Guiseppe—Ican't help it. Sometimes you're so mean I could kill you, but to–day, Guiseppe," fondling her beads, "I love you almost as well as I do Marta."Pappina's words and little caress pleased Guiseppe, but he let neither her nor Marta see his pleasure. He took up the Punchinellos, merely saying: "I guess we'll be moving."It was a happy little group that continued its way toward Salerno. Pappina took off her beads every few minutes to admire them."How good you are, Guiseppe!" she repeatedly said to him. Her happiness brought a smile to Guiseppe's hard face.Marta likened her to a humming–bird, as she flitted in song from flower to flower, plucking first one for Marta, then one for Guiseppe.Pappina was too full of life and joy to–day to plod along with Marta behind Guiseppe. She kept running ahead of the two. Something unusual attracted her notice and as she did not have the patience to stand and wait for them, she ran back to meet them, exclaiming as she seized their hands:"Hurry! There's the cutest little church downthe road. Come quickly! We must all pray.""It's a wayside shrine," Marta told her."Not a church? Then can't we go there and pray?" Pappina said with a disappointed look."Yes, dear. Everywhere through this country we find these shrines. They are built for just such wanderers as we, that we may always remember to pray.""There's a light. See, Marta.""There is always a candle or a little lamp burning at the altar, where we pray to either a picture or a statuette of the Madonna."By this time they were at the entrance. Pappina turned to Guiseppe and took his hand."If you hadn't given me the beads," she said, "I shouldn't want to pray."After their devotions were over the three continued their journey to Salerno, so prettily situated in a cozy little corner of Salerno Bay, and backed by gigantic mountains which remind one of a father protecting his child. They walked into the town, down the narrow, irregular streets.As they paused at a corner Pappina struck her tambourine, ready to start her song."No, no, not yet, little one," Guiseppe said. "This is not the place for you. You and Marta sit down and wait for me here. I'll look about a bit and find out what is going on in the town."They watched him as he walked briskly down the street. Once he looked back and waved his hand to Pappina, who in turn threw him a kiss."I just love Guiseppe when he is good!" cried the child. "I hope he won't be gone long," she added, as her eyes followed his retreating figure.Stern and forbidding as Guiseppe usually looked, when he wished to be agreeable he had an air that charmed all whom he met. He had bright stories at his command and could tell them as became a man of his former calling. To–day he chose to be a hail fellow well met as he walked about Salerno seeking information that would lead to his financial interest.By chance he met an old friend from Naples."Aha, Guiseppe Capasso!" the man cried. "What good fate leads me to you, or you to me, as it may be?""The luck is mine, signor," with a hearty hand–shake Guiseppe replied. "Out of Naples, where I was born and bred, I feel indeed a stranger in a strange land.""Come, Guiseppe, let's celebrate our fortunate meeting. A game or two—what do you say, my friend?"Together they visited a wine shop and there they drank and gambled at "Mora." Guiseppe lost."I'll drink and forget," he cried. So he went from one wine shop to another, drinking, losing, cursing his losses, drinking again to forget his ill–luck.When Marta saw him coming toward herself and Pappina, she knew at once what the trouble was. She knew also that too much wine put him in an ugly mood. She placed her arm about Pappina and kissed her brow."Oh,carissima," she whispered, "if you love me, be patient with Guiseppe! He may abuse you, but remember that I love you."Even before Marta had finished, Guiseppe was speaking."There's no fete day here till September, St.Matthew's Day," he said. Turning to Pappina, he continued: "Look here, girl, we are going where there will be a crowd of people promenading to–night. We are going to the Quay—they call it Corso Garibaldi. I'll have none of your impudence in that crowd to–night—none of your stubbornness; do you understand? When I say sing, you will sing. When I say dance, you will dance. Do you hear?""Si, signor," came faintly from Pappina's white lips. As she spoke she glanced at Marta, stifling her anger for the sake of the woman she loved."Then remember." He shook his fist in her face. She flushed scarlet, but said nothing. Guiseppe evidently was expecting a reply. He waited a moment, then continued his tirade: "Why don't you speak, girl? You stand there, red in the face, ready to kill me, and say nothing. Have out with it; what you've got to say I want to hear right now. I'll have none of your impudence to–night."There was no reply from the child, who stood looking in amazement at Guiseppe, as she tightly held Marta's bony hand."Oh, afraid of me for once, are you?" he sneered. "Marta, the minx is afraid of me. Bravo! Bravo! I'll drink to her health as soon as we find a wine–shop. Ha, ha, Marta! She's a coward, after all."He stooped to pick up a coin he had dropped. Pappina, unable longer to control herself, sprang at him in a furious rage. She gave him one fierce slap across the cheek. With a cry of pain, he turned on the child. Marta caught hold of him."Guiseppe, Guiseppe," she cried, "you'll lose her if you strike her."Still he attempted to reach Pappina, blind in his drunken fury. Marta held him with an iron grip."Don't!" she screamed. "Don't! You shan't! She'll run away. Stop, Guiseppe! You know you can't strike her and keep her."Guiseppe shook Marta fiercely. Her sparse brown locks loosened and fell about her livid face, but still she held him, and the drunken man was no match for her. He struggled to break away, but Marta seemed to possess superhuman strength. Her grip on his arm was so strong that it pained him."Let go, you fiend!" he cried."Never, Guiseppe, till you promise you will not harm her. She is only a child.""You hurt me! Let go, I say!""Then promise.""Fiend, let go! I promise."Guiseppe broke away from Marta. He glared at Pappina, who stood facing him defiantly her head thrown back, her eyes blazing, her arms folded."You little vixen!" Guiseppe shouted, "I'll make you rue this day! You shall pay dearly for this!" Smothering his anger, he took up the Punchinellos. "Come," he commanded, "we will play to the crowds—all night, if I will it. Come on, I say."
Hardships at Salerno
Guiseppe was barely awake on the morning after the fete when he took out his money–bag to recount his gains.
"I'll sell these old puppets," he said to himself. "What do the fewsoldithey bring in amount to, compared with Pappina? If the minx only remains as bewitching as she is now, I'll not complain. Hang it all! Why can't every day be fete day!"
He glanced at the child, curled up on the ground, asleep.
"I may as well let her rest. It isn't much of a trip to Salerno, and I don't suppose it matters much when we get there; nothing special on hand there that I know of. I hope we'll find plenty of foreigners everywhere we go. They appreciate Pappina."
Guiseppe filled his pipe and as he smoked he wove a bright dream of wealth. Happy thought!He smiled broadly and joyfully rubbed his hands together.
"I'll take her to America!" he chuckled to himself. "Why not? The Punchinellos too!" His countenance fell. "No, no," he muttered, "I can't talk in English for the puppets. How, how am I to manage that?"
He became so absorbed in his thoughts that he forgot the pipe he was smoking. It dropped from his mouth as he exclaimed gleefully:
"Aha! I have it! A hand–organ in America with my beautiful Pappina! She'll make our fortune."
He picked up his pipe and jumped quickly to his feet, calling to Marta.
"Get up, Marta, and wake the beauty! Up, I say! Let's be off. Make haste, Marta. We'll soon be rich; do you hear?"
Pappina, hearing his loud call, sprang up at once. She rubbed her eyes, trying to make sure she was awake.
"Was I dreaming, Guiseppe, or did you—did I really hear you say we'll soon be rich?" she asked.
Guiseppe hesitated a moment before replying: "Si, si, carina.If you'll always sing anddance as you did yesterday, we will go to America where there is no end of money."
"Oh, I'd like that!" and Pappina clapped her hands.
Something in her movements reminded Guiseppe of a song he used to sing.
"Come, girl," he said cheerfully, "here's a song—a new one that just suits you. Funny I never thought of it before! Listen, my beauty, and see how quickly you can learn it. It will bring gold, and gold brings everything. It will take us across the ocean to America. Come—stand up—so!"
Pappina needed no second bidding. She took her position opposite Guiseppe, alert to follow every tone, word, and gesture. Many times the man stopped to laugh at and applaud Pappina for her wonderful aptness, and his praises made her more keen to imitate him perfectly.
The child's dark hair hung in disorder about her animated face, her great black eyes were aglow as she sang, danced and recited, going over the song again and again, she and Guiseppe both so interested that neither realized the flight of time.
Marta dared not interrupt them. She watched Pappina with pain in her heart, saying almost continually to herself:
"Grand dio! Quando, quando[Great God! When, when]?"
Gold! Riches! They meant nothing to her. Her one desire was to see Pappina liberated from this life she felt sure would destroy her health, innocence, and beauty.
Hark! "Le parlete d'amore," that beautiful air from "Faust," came floating to their ears. The fresh, clear voice rang through the morning air.
"Odi, chi e[Listen, who is it]?" Pappina exclaimed, peering down the winding road. A young girl came around a bend, leading a small pig, and the child darted toward her. A few yards from the singer she paused, uncertain whether to continue or not, but being reassured by a bright smile from the girl, she hastened on. Reaching the maiden, she stopped, and looked wonderingly at the pig.
"What is it you have?" she asked timidly, for it is only in the country that girls have pet pigs, and Pappina had never seen one.
"What have I? Why, don't you know, littleone? It is my pet pig." The young girl laid her hand caressingly on the animal's head as she spoke.
Tender little Pappina had never in her short life had anything to pet, not even a doll. She took hold of the ribbon around the pig's neck.
"How pretty!" she exclaimed. "He won't hurt me, will he? What's his name?"
"I named him Savio, because he is so wise."
"Isn't he beautiful! May I pet him?"
Pappina had not waited for permission, but was patting the pig's head. As she stroked his bristles she prattled to the girl.
"You see," she said confidingly, "we are poor now, but we are going to America, and we are going to get rich. Guiseppe said so this very morning. When we come back I want to buy Savio. You'll let me have him, won't you? I'll be good to him. I'll buy him a new ribbon every day, and a necklace, too—that is, if there's money enough," she added thoughtfully.
The girl, Susanna, laughed heartily as she replied:
"When you come back from America, you shall have my dear Savio. Now I must be going.Good–by." She waved her hand to Pappina as she moved on.
Guiseppe and Marta stood watching Pappina with amusement, but as she started to follow Susanna and Savio, Guiseppe called: "Pappina, Pappina."
Pappina either did not or would not hear. Louder and louder Guiseppe shouted her name. Susanna stopped.
"Is it not you he calls?" she asked. "Are you not Pappina?"
"Yes, yes, but I want to walk just a little way with you and Savio. You'll let me, won't you?"
"Pappina!" Guiseppe's voice sounded harsh and angry.
"You had better go back, little one.Addio."
For a moment Pappina stood looking after Susanna, then with a burst of song turned and ran back to Marta and Guiseppe. She did not heed Guiseppe's scowl, but smiled into his face.
"Guiseppe," she cried, "I must learn the new song at once. I want to earn lots of money, so we can go to America, and get rich, and have pet pigs. Wasn't he just beautiful? His name is Savio, and she says I may have him when we comeback from America. Oh, you don't know how much I want a pig like Savio!"
Guiseppe could not help smiling at Pappina's prattle. He put his hand under her chin and lifting her radiant little face toward his, he teasingly asked:
"Wouldn't you rather have Savio cooked like the piece of pig you had at Cava?Ebbene!Now for the song. Where did we stop?"
"I have been thinking," Marta timidly interrupted, "that perhaps, if we are going to America, and if—if you both wish me to do so, I could teach Pappina an English song." She glanced at Guiseppe as though fearful he might laugh at the idea, but to her relief he looked pleased.
"How about it, little one?" he asked, turning to Pappina. "Would you like to learn to sing an English song?"
Pappina always showed her greatest delight by clapping her hands. She clapped them now.
"Che gioia[What joy]!" she cried. "Oh, Guiseppe, let me learn it now, this very minute! won't you please, Guiseppe? Because you know we are sure to need it in America. Come, quickly, Marta."
Marta grew nervous.
"I cannot sing," she cried, "I have no music in my voice, but I—"
"Never mind your voice! Pappina will do the singing. Are you both ready? Then why don't you begin?" Guiseppe spoke impatiently.
Marta tremblingly began. The words were barely out of her mouth when Pappina repeated them eagerly, but always with an "ah" at the end making them all like Italian words. Marta smiled at the pronunciation, but Guiseppe was delighted.
"Bravo, bravo!" he cried. "Teach it well, Marta! She can sing it here for all the English and Americans we meet. It will charm them to hear her sing in their own tongue; it will mean money, and it's money that will take us to America."
Childlike, Pappina soon grew tired of trying to learn the song. She wanted to be journeying on to new people, sights, and scenes. Guiseppe, too, became impatient to be off in quest of that which would take them to "the land of money," as he called America again and again.
He was walking, as usual, with bowed head,his eyes on the ground, when he suddenly sprang to the side of the road and with the toe of his boot pushed back the dry grass that was partially concealing a string of gold beads. He picked them up.
"Aha!" he cried, holding them up for view, "they are gold! Luck is with us. Gold! I can sell them." He put them into a pocket of his coat.
"Guiseppe, I want them. Give them to me." Pappina dug her little sun–browned hand into his pocket and brought up the bright beads. Guiseppe snatched them from her. Pappina stamped her foot. "Guiseppe, I want those beads!"
"You can't have them."
"Guiseppe, give them to me! Please, dear Guiseppe!"
She begged, threatened and cried, but all in vain.
"Enough, enough, I say! Come on," Guiseppe commanded, as he started forward.
"I'll not stir till you give me those beads," the child declared.
Guiseppe came back to her and raised his hand threateningly, but stubborn Pappina declared again:
"I'll not sing for you ever, Guiseppe, if you keep those pretty beads. I'll never, never sing for you again, and then we can never go to America. I'd sooner give up the pet pig than those gold beads."
Marta grew bold. "Oh, please let her have them," she pleaded.
"Hold your tongue!" her husband answered roughly. "You'd have me give her my head if she asked for it."
Guiseppe again lifted his hand threateningly and had started toward Pappina when a carriage drove up. The merry party in it—foreigners on their way from Cava to Salerno—had already noted his menacing air, Marta's pained look, and the beautiful child pouting by the wayside.
They stopped. Only Marta understood their English words.
"Poor little thing, she looks ready to cry. Do find out about them," begged one of the ladies of the party.
"Do you understand English?" her husband asked Guiseppe.
"Yes, sir," Marta answered for her husband.
"What have you to entertain us?"
"We have the Punchinellos, and we have the child, who sings and dances."
"We had enough of the Punchinellos in Naples. Let the little girl give us a song," cried an Englishman, taking a coin from his pocket. Others did the same. "A song, a song!" they cried.
Marta translated to Guiseppe.
"Pappina, sing," he commanded.
"No."
Guiseppe felt an anger he dared not show.
"Pappina, sing for America," he begged.
The obstinate little girl shook her head.
"I told you, Guiseppe," she answered, "I'll never sing till you give me those beads."
Guiseppe stood for a moment with his hand on the beads, irresolute. He heard the jingle of coins waiting to be paid for the song.
Pappina was quick to notice that his hand was in his pocket.
"Guiseppe, won't you give me the beads?" she pleaded. "I want them so much. Please, dear Guiseppe!"
She stretched out her hand for them just as the gentleman who was driving took up the lines to continue the drive.
"Stop, we are ready," cried Guiseppe, handing the beads to Pappina. She fastened the string around her neck, took up her tambourine, and sang.
True little Neapolitan, in her delight over the new necklace she sang and danced with such spirit that even Guiseppe was surprised. The tourists, having paid well for Pappina's songs, went on their way.
"That pretty lady in blue," said Marta as the travelers departed, "was wondering if we treat you well, Pappina. She said she wished she could speak Italian and find out if you are our own child, and if you are happy in your life, or only singing to keep from being beaten, as so many little singers have to do."
Pappina laughed merrily.
"Why didn't you tell her that I always love you, Marta?" she cried. "And sometimes I love Guiseppe."
She went to Guiseppe and reaching up on her tiptoes, patted his cheek.
"CaroGuiseppe," she said, "I love you to–day because you gave me the beads. Perhaps to–morrow I shall hate you, and—really, Guiseppe—Ican't help it. Sometimes you're so mean I could kill you, but to–day, Guiseppe," fondling her beads, "I love you almost as well as I do Marta."
Pappina's words and little caress pleased Guiseppe, but he let neither her nor Marta see his pleasure. He took up the Punchinellos, merely saying: "I guess we'll be moving."
It was a happy little group that continued its way toward Salerno. Pappina took off her beads every few minutes to admire them.
"How good you are, Guiseppe!" she repeatedly said to him. Her happiness brought a smile to Guiseppe's hard face.
Marta likened her to a humming–bird, as she flitted in song from flower to flower, plucking first one for Marta, then one for Guiseppe.
Pappina was too full of life and joy to–day to plod along with Marta behind Guiseppe. She kept running ahead of the two. Something unusual attracted her notice and as she did not have the patience to stand and wait for them, she ran back to meet them, exclaiming as she seized their hands:
"Hurry! There's the cutest little church downthe road. Come quickly! We must all pray."
"It's a wayside shrine," Marta told her.
"Not a church? Then can't we go there and pray?" Pappina said with a disappointed look.
"Yes, dear. Everywhere through this country we find these shrines. They are built for just such wanderers as we, that we may always remember to pray."
"There's a light. See, Marta."
"There is always a candle or a little lamp burning at the altar, where we pray to either a picture or a statuette of the Madonna."
By this time they were at the entrance. Pappina turned to Guiseppe and took his hand.
"If you hadn't given me the beads," she said, "I shouldn't want to pray."
After their devotions were over the three continued their journey to Salerno, so prettily situated in a cozy little corner of Salerno Bay, and backed by gigantic mountains which remind one of a father protecting his child. They walked into the town, down the narrow, irregular streets.
As they paused at a corner Pappina struck her tambourine, ready to start her song.
"No, no, not yet, little one," Guiseppe said. "This is not the place for you. You and Marta sit down and wait for me here. I'll look about a bit and find out what is going on in the town."
They watched him as he walked briskly down the street. Once he looked back and waved his hand to Pappina, who in turn threw him a kiss.
"I just love Guiseppe when he is good!" cried the child. "I hope he won't be gone long," she added, as her eyes followed his retreating figure.
Stern and forbidding as Guiseppe usually looked, when he wished to be agreeable he had an air that charmed all whom he met. He had bright stories at his command and could tell them as became a man of his former calling. To–day he chose to be a hail fellow well met as he walked about Salerno seeking information that would lead to his financial interest.
By chance he met an old friend from Naples.
"Aha, Guiseppe Capasso!" the man cried. "What good fate leads me to you, or you to me, as it may be?"
"The luck is mine, signor," with a hearty hand–shake Guiseppe replied. "Out of Naples, where I was born and bred, I feel indeed a stranger in a strange land."
"Come, Guiseppe, let's celebrate our fortunate meeting. A game or two—what do you say, my friend?"
Together they visited a wine shop and there they drank and gambled at "Mora." Guiseppe lost.
"I'll drink and forget," he cried. So he went from one wine shop to another, drinking, losing, cursing his losses, drinking again to forget his ill–luck.
When Marta saw him coming toward herself and Pappina, she knew at once what the trouble was. She knew also that too much wine put him in an ugly mood. She placed her arm about Pappina and kissed her brow.
"Oh,carissima," she whispered, "if you love me, be patient with Guiseppe! He may abuse you, but remember that I love you."
Even before Marta had finished, Guiseppe was speaking.
"There's no fete day here till September, St.Matthew's Day," he said. Turning to Pappina, he continued: "Look here, girl, we are going where there will be a crowd of people promenading to–night. We are going to the Quay—they call it Corso Garibaldi. I'll have none of your impudence in that crowd to–night—none of your stubbornness; do you understand? When I say sing, you will sing. When I say dance, you will dance. Do you hear?"
"Si, signor," came faintly from Pappina's white lips. As she spoke she glanced at Marta, stifling her anger for the sake of the woman she loved.
"Then remember." He shook his fist in her face. She flushed scarlet, but said nothing. Guiseppe evidently was expecting a reply. He waited a moment, then continued his tirade: "Why don't you speak, girl? You stand there, red in the face, ready to kill me, and say nothing. Have out with it; what you've got to say I want to hear right now. I'll have none of your impudence to–night."
There was no reply from the child, who stood looking in amazement at Guiseppe, as she tightly held Marta's bony hand.
"Oh, afraid of me for once, are you?" he sneered. "Marta, the minx is afraid of me. Bravo! Bravo! I'll drink to her health as soon as we find a wine–shop. Ha, ha, Marta! She's a coward, after all."
He stooped to pick up a coin he had dropped. Pappina, unable longer to control herself, sprang at him in a furious rage. She gave him one fierce slap across the cheek. With a cry of pain, he turned on the child. Marta caught hold of him.
"Guiseppe, Guiseppe," she cried, "you'll lose her if you strike her."
Still he attempted to reach Pappina, blind in his drunken fury. Marta held him with an iron grip.
"Don't!" she screamed. "Don't! You shan't! She'll run away. Stop, Guiseppe! You know you can't strike her and keep her."
Guiseppe shook Marta fiercely. Her sparse brown locks loosened and fell about her livid face, but still she held him, and the drunken man was no match for her. He struggled to break away, but Marta seemed to possess superhuman strength. Her grip on his arm was so strong that it pained him.
"Let go, you fiend!" he cried.
"Never, Guiseppe, till you promise you will not harm her. She is only a child."
"You hurt me! Let go, I say!"
"Then promise."
"Fiend, let go! I promise."
Guiseppe broke away from Marta. He glared at Pappina, who stood facing him defiantly her head thrown back, her eyes blazing, her arms folded.
"You little vixen!" Guiseppe shouted, "I'll make you rue this day! You shall pay dearly for this!" Smothering his anger, he took up the Punchinellos. "Come," he commanded, "we will play to the crowds—all night, if I will it. Come on, I say."
CHAPTER VIIAnother ReconciliationGuiseppe, his cheek still smarting from Pappina's blow, strode along toward the Quay and its beautiful walk, Corso Garibaldi.In spite of his intoxication, Guiseppe was conscious of a new respect for Marta, awakened by her fearless defence of the child she loved."They are both against me," he muttered. "Marta—staid, timid Marta—she becomes a lioness when she fights for Pappina. Who would believe it? But she is right, Marta's right. I can't beat the minx and keep her. They are two against me, two against me."Time and again he turned his head and glared fiercely from under his shaggy eyebrows at Pappina, and without his usual bullying look at Marta. His gaze was met unflinchingly by both, who, as he said, seemed banded against him.Pappina would not admit, even to herself, that she was afraid of Guiseppe in his drunken,quarrelsome condition, but Marta noticed that the little hand in hers trembled and held her own more tightly whenever Guiseppe turned toward them.Worn and tired from the long tramp, Pappina inquired of Marta: "Where is he going? I can't walk much farther. I feel weak, Marta.""Poverina[poor little one], I do not know, but we are together and you are safe with me," Marta replied as they followed Guiseppe through the merry crowd that was enjoying the pleasures of the walk and the beauties of the moonlit bay.When he reached the theater, he stopped and put down the Punchinellos. Assuming a bravado air, he ordered Pappina to sing."You remember what I said?" he asked. "You shall sing all night if I will it so. Marta knows me. She can tell you that I say what I mean and mean what I say. It is not the Punchinellos to–night, it is you." He shook his fist in Pappina's face.Rebellious, tired, and hungry, she quickly lifted her clenched fist to strike again, but Marta enfolded the little doubled–up hand in hers."It is best to obey to–night," she whispered. "Sing for me, my bird, for I love you."Marta's loving words appealed to Pappina as nothing else would have done. She rose quickly and sang the best she could. The poor little girl put no animation in the vivacious song she tried to sing; it might have passed for a funeral dirge.After the long tramp it was hard for the child to stand and sing; to dance was impossible. There was a plaintiveness in her voice and in her manner. She was but a baby, forced beyond her strength; made to sing for her food.Her face looked drawn and white, even her lips were colorless. At times her voice could scarcely be heard. When she staggered in her efforts to dance, as she did many times, she looked helplessly and appealingly at Marta.Guiseppe's eyes were on the crowd only. He noticed their interest in the singer, and nothing more. When Pappina finished the song, he shouted: "Give! Give! Here, little one, pass your tambourine."Marta knew and the people knew. The tambourine was passed."Fill, so the brute will take her home." Only Marta of our three wanderers understood these words, spoken in English.Guiseppe quickly took possession of the money. "I am thirsty. Wine, wine!" he exclaimed, "I must have wine. Who wouldn't drink, with her—" He pointed to Pappina and left the sentence unfinished. "Wait for me here, and don't move or I'll kill you both."He was out of sight in a moment, disappearing into a wine shop. They heard his boisterous laugh within. Marta took Pappina's hand in hers."Carissima," she said, "you are so hungry and so tired! Guiseppe is not himself. He forgets."A new light shone in Pappina's eyes. She was given new strength. This time she would sing, not from fear of Guiseppe, perhaps not from love of Marta. She was just a worn–out, tired little child whose tender age should have ensured her protection at home—only seven years old, but forced to battle with the world, seeking refuge through her songs from storms and hunger, a weatherbeaten bird. For her there was now no place called home, no place to lay her tired little head. She knew that to sing and dance meant money, and that she and Marta were hungry and in need of money for supper. She took hertambourine from Marta, threw it high in the air, caught it, and began to dance.The gaping crowd that had watched her efforts before stood almost aghast as she swayed and tipped and toed, till one would have thought her little feet would refuse to take another step. Then, pausing a moment to take breath, she started to sing the rollicking song Guiseppe had just taught her—with gestures and grimaces, stopping to speak, dashing into song, now laughing so infectiously that every bystander joined with her.She finished the song in an uproar of laughter, applause, and shouts of "Bravo, bravo!"The enthusiastic listeners fairly threwsoldiat her. Pappina wanted them for supper for Marta and herself. They had tramped all day with but a bite of bread in the early morning. Pappina's haggard little face glowed with pleasure as she took the well–filled tambourine to Marta."See, Marta, yours to–night—not Guiseppe's—yours!""No, not mine; it is yours alone,carissima.""Then it is yours and mine. Come, let's go. Macaroni, Marta! Hurry, dear Marta.""Pappina,mia carissima, Pappina!" Marta walked a few steps then stopped. "Should Guiseppe return and find us gone!" Even as she spoke she did not feel her usual fear."But I am starved, Marta. I must eat, unless, dear, good Marta, you who love me say I mustn't."Marta hesitated for a moment, looking down the street to see if her husband was returning. He was nowhere in sight. Her love for Pappina conquered her fear of Guiseppe's displeasure."Wait for me here," she said. "I will go and bring us food."With all haste it was purchased and eaten. It was long after they had finished their simple meal that Guiseppe returned from his revelry.His mood was changed. He had drank so much wine he could scarcely stand up. He loved the little girl who had filled his purse. He laid his hand caressingly on her head. She shuddered at his touch, and clung close to Marta, who looked fearlessly into Guiseppe's face and said sternly:"I am used to your thoughtlessness, used even to cruelty; but Pappina is worn out, and she must have her rest.""Eh! What's that you say? She's tired?Macaroni and a bottle of wine will build her up. Come on, sweet one." Stretching out his hand to Pappina, he continued: "Throughout the town those who have seen you and heard you to–night sing your praises. They believe you are mine.Ebbene!So you are, sweet one—so you are.""Guiseppe," and Pappina looked pleadingly into his half–closed eyes, "Guiseppe, if you love me so much, take me where we shall sleep to–night. I'm not hungry, Guiseppe, but I'm so tired. I want to go to sleep."Worn out, Pappina began to cry. Marta quickly gathered the child into her arms and carried her to a place Guiseppe selected as suitable to spend the night.Sabbath morning! So beautiful it dawned that it seemed to be wooing man, woman and child to worship the God who could give to his children so perfect a day. Flowers, grass, birds and sky, with the bright Bay of Salerno in the glint of the morning sun, all attested to the wonders of a marvelous world with its perfection in every phase of nature as it appeared this Sunday in Salerno.Guiseppe slept in a drunken stupor. Marta was afraid to speak, even in a whisper, for fear of disturbing his slumber. Pappina, harboring a feeling of hatred stronger than ever, grew tired of waiting for Guiseppe to awaken."Marta," she said softly."Sh!" Marta raised her finger to silence Pappina, who for a time sat quiet. Then the stillness began to irritate her."Marta," she began again and once more Marta tried to silence her, but this time in vain. "I won't 'sh,' for it must be time to go to church, and surely he," (pointing to Guiseppe), "ought to pray."Guiseppe, hearing her voice, sat up and looked about him in a dazed way out of his bleary eyes. Pappina, seeing him thus, needed courage to speak at all, but with her characteristic fearlessness she said:"Come, Guiseppe, it's Sunday. We must go to church.""Sunday! Let me sleep. Sunday, did you say? There's nothing to do on Sunday except pray. I'll sleep. If you two simpletons want to pray, go on to church and let me alone. Getalong, I'll wait." He fell over on the ground and was soon snoring loudly.Hand in hand Marta and Pappina walked away."I dared not ask Guiseppe for money. You saw,carina, he is not yet himself."Pappina's face was wreathed in smiles as she stooped down to bring upsoldishe had hidden in her shoe the night before. It was not the cleanest hand in the world that handed the money to Marta, but the little grime on it did not prevent Marta from seizing it and covering it with kisses."I am so glad, so glad,carina!" she exclaimed. "Now you need not go hungry to church."After a hasty breakfast they were soon in the celebrated St. Matthew's Cathedral. Marta, fearful of Guiseppe's displeasure if he were to awaken and be kept waiting too long, wished to say a short prayer and return at once, but Pappina was anxious to follow the people and see the things that interested them. She suddenly seized Marta by the arm and almost dragged her out of the church. There was a look of terror on the child's face."Carina, what is it?""Those ladies—you saw them, Marta! The man with them—you said he was a guide—didn't you hear what he was telling them?" She covered her face with her hands. "Oh, I cannot bear to think of it!""No, I did not hear. Tell me, what did he say that frightened you? Perhaps you didn't understand.""Oh. I did. I heard every word. He told them that three saints' heads had been cut off right by that column where we were standing. It scared me so that now I am afraid to go back, and I wanted so much to go to the tomb of the Pope. The guide said one is buried in the church. You have seen so much, Marta—have you ever seen a Pope's tomb?""No,carina, but we must go back now, at once, to Guiseppe.""Back to Guiseppe," Pappina repeated slowly, "back to Guiseppe." She grew thoughtful. "Marta, must we go back to Guiseppe? May we not run a way?""Oh, my sweet baby, we must—we must go back to Guiseppe!"They met him walking to meet them. Hesmiled kindly as they approached him. He even held out his hand to Pappina, but she paid no attention to his overture for friendship and forgiveness."Have you already said your prayers?" he asked, looking at Marta."Our prayers were short," she replied. "We thought you would not like to be kept waiting.""And Pappina! She has no use for Guiseppe this morning." He took one of her curls in his hand as he spoke."You were bad yesterday, Guiseppe," Pappina answered with a jerk of her head that snatched the curl from his hand."You are right,bambina, you are right. Forgive me. Guiseppe was a regular brute yesterday; wasn't he?" he asked in a tone that seemed to crave denial from the child."You were, Guiseppe," she replied with a sunny smile as she took hold of his hand, "you really were; but if you are sorry, I'll forgive you."
Another Reconciliation
Guiseppe, his cheek still smarting from Pappina's blow, strode along toward the Quay and its beautiful walk, Corso Garibaldi.
In spite of his intoxication, Guiseppe was conscious of a new respect for Marta, awakened by her fearless defence of the child she loved.
"They are both against me," he muttered. "Marta—staid, timid Marta—she becomes a lioness when she fights for Pappina. Who would believe it? But she is right, Marta's right. I can't beat the minx and keep her. They are two against me, two against me."
Time and again he turned his head and glared fiercely from under his shaggy eyebrows at Pappina, and without his usual bullying look at Marta. His gaze was met unflinchingly by both, who, as he said, seemed banded against him.
Pappina would not admit, even to herself, that she was afraid of Guiseppe in his drunken,quarrelsome condition, but Marta noticed that the little hand in hers trembled and held her own more tightly whenever Guiseppe turned toward them.
Worn and tired from the long tramp, Pappina inquired of Marta: "Where is he going? I can't walk much farther. I feel weak, Marta."
"Poverina[poor little one], I do not know, but we are together and you are safe with me," Marta replied as they followed Guiseppe through the merry crowd that was enjoying the pleasures of the walk and the beauties of the moonlit bay.
When he reached the theater, he stopped and put down the Punchinellos. Assuming a bravado air, he ordered Pappina to sing.
"You remember what I said?" he asked. "You shall sing all night if I will it so. Marta knows me. She can tell you that I say what I mean and mean what I say. It is not the Punchinellos to–night, it is you." He shook his fist in Pappina's face.
Rebellious, tired, and hungry, she quickly lifted her clenched fist to strike again, but Marta enfolded the little doubled–up hand in hers.
"It is best to obey to–night," she whispered. "Sing for me, my bird, for I love you."
Marta's loving words appealed to Pappina as nothing else would have done. She rose quickly and sang the best she could. The poor little girl put no animation in the vivacious song she tried to sing; it might have passed for a funeral dirge.
After the long tramp it was hard for the child to stand and sing; to dance was impossible. There was a plaintiveness in her voice and in her manner. She was but a baby, forced beyond her strength; made to sing for her food.
Her face looked drawn and white, even her lips were colorless. At times her voice could scarcely be heard. When she staggered in her efforts to dance, as she did many times, she looked helplessly and appealingly at Marta.
Guiseppe's eyes were on the crowd only. He noticed their interest in the singer, and nothing more. When Pappina finished the song, he shouted: "Give! Give! Here, little one, pass your tambourine."
Marta knew and the people knew. The tambourine was passed.
"Fill, so the brute will take her home." Only Marta of our three wanderers understood these words, spoken in English.
Guiseppe quickly took possession of the money. "I am thirsty. Wine, wine!" he exclaimed, "I must have wine. Who wouldn't drink, with her—" He pointed to Pappina and left the sentence unfinished. "Wait for me here, and don't move or I'll kill you both."
He was out of sight in a moment, disappearing into a wine shop. They heard his boisterous laugh within. Marta took Pappina's hand in hers.
"Carissima," she said, "you are so hungry and so tired! Guiseppe is not himself. He forgets."
A new light shone in Pappina's eyes. She was given new strength. This time she would sing, not from fear of Guiseppe, perhaps not from love of Marta. She was just a worn–out, tired little child whose tender age should have ensured her protection at home—only seven years old, but forced to battle with the world, seeking refuge through her songs from storms and hunger, a weatherbeaten bird. For her there was now no place called home, no place to lay her tired little head. She knew that to sing and dance meant money, and that she and Marta were hungry and in need of money for supper. She took hertambourine from Marta, threw it high in the air, caught it, and began to dance.
The gaping crowd that had watched her efforts before stood almost aghast as she swayed and tipped and toed, till one would have thought her little feet would refuse to take another step. Then, pausing a moment to take breath, she started to sing the rollicking song Guiseppe had just taught her—with gestures and grimaces, stopping to speak, dashing into song, now laughing so infectiously that every bystander joined with her.
She finished the song in an uproar of laughter, applause, and shouts of "Bravo, bravo!"
The enthusiastic listeners fairly threwsoldiat her. Pappina wanted them for supper for Marta and herself. They had tramped all day with but a bite of bread in the early morning. Pappina's haggard little face glowed with pleasure as she took the well–filled tambourine to Marta.
"See, Marta, yours to–night—not Guiseppe's—yours!"
"No, not mine; it is yours alone,carissima."
"Then it is yours and mine. Come, let's go. Macaroni, Marta! Hurry, dear Marta."
"Pappina,mia carissima, Pappina!" Marta walked a few steps then stopped. "Should Guiseppe return and find us gone!" Even as she spoke she did not feel her usual fear.
"But I am starved, Marta. I must eat, unless, dear, good Marta, you who love me say I mustn't."
Marta hesitated for a moment, looking down the street to see if her husband was returning. He was nowhere in sight. Her love for Pappina conquered her fear of Guiseppe's displeasure.
"Wait for me here," she said. "I will go and bring us food."
With all haste it was purchased and eaten. It was long after they had finished their simple meal that Guiseppe returned from his revelry.
His mood was changed. He had drank so much wine he could scarcely stand up. He loved the little girl who had filled his purse. He laid his hand caressingly on her head. She shuddered at his touch, and clung close to Marta, who looked fearlessly into Guiseppe's face and said sternly:
"I am used to your thoughtlessness, used even to cruelty; but Pappina is worn out, and she must have her rest."
"Eh! What's that you say? She's tired?Macaroni and a bottle of wine will build her up. Come on, sweet one." Stretching out his hand to Pappina, he continued: "Throughout the town those who have seen you and heard you to–night sing your praises. They believe you are mine.Ebbene!So you are, sweet one—so you are."
"Guiseppe," and Pappina looked pleadingly into his half–closed eyes, "Guiseppe, if you love me so much, take me where we shall sleep to–night. I'm not hungry, Guiseppe, but I'm so tired. I want to go to sleep."
Worn out, Pappina began to cry. Marta quickly gathered the child into her arms and carried her to a place Guiseppe selected as suitable to spend the night.
Sabbath morning! So beautiful it dawned that it seemed to be wooing man, woman and child to worship the God who could give to his children so perfect a day. Flowers, grass, birds and sky, with the bright Bay of Salerno in the glint of the morning sun, all attested to the wonders of a marvelous world with its perfection in every phase of nature as it appeared this Sunday in Salerno.
Guiseppe slept in a drunken stupor. Marta was afraid to speak, even in a whisper, for fear of disturbing his slumber. Pappina, harboring a feeling of hatred stronger than ever, grew tired of waiting for Guiseppe to awaken.
"Marta," she said softly.
"Sh!" Marta raised her finger to silence Pappina, who for a time sat quiet. Then the stillness began to irritate her.
"Marta," she began again and once more Marta tried to silence her, but this time in vain. "I won't 'sh,' for it must be time to go to church, and surely he," (pointing to Guiseppe), "ought to pray."
Guiseppe, hearing her voice, sat up and looked about him in a dazed way out of his bleary eyes. Pappina, seeing him thus, needed courage to speak at all, but with her characteristic fearlessness she said:
"Come, Guiseppe, it's Sunday. We must go to church."
"Sunday! Let me sleep. Sunday, did you say? There's nothing to do on Sunday except pray. I'll sleep. If you two simpletons want to pray, go on to church and let me alone. Getalong, I'll wait." He fell over on the ground and was soon snoring loudly.
Hand in hand Marta and Pappina walked away.
"I dared not ask Guiseppe for money. You saw,carina, he is not yet himself."
Pappina's face was wreathed in smiles as she stooped down to bring upsoldishe had hidden in her shoe the night before. It was not the cleanest hand in the world that handed the money to Marta, but the little grime on it did not prevent Marta from seizing it and covering it with kisses.
"I am so glad, so glad,carina!" she exclaimed. "Now you need not go hungry to church."
After a hasty breakfast they were soon in the celebrated St. Matthew's Cathedral. Marta, fearful of Guiseppe's displeasure if he were to awaken and be kept waiting too long, wished to say a short prayer and return at once, but Pappina was anxious to follow the people and see the things that interested them. She suddenly seized Marta by the arm and almost dragged her out of the church. There was a look of terror on the child's face.
"Carina, what is it?"
"Those ladies—you saw them, Marta! The man with them—you said he was a guide—didn't you hear what he was telling them?" She covered her face with her hands. "Oh, I cannot bear to think of it!"
"No, I did not hear. Tell me, what did he say that frightened you? Perhaps you didn't understand."
"Oh. I did. I heard every word. He told them that three saints' heads had been cut off right by that column where we were standing. It scared me so that now I am afraid to go back, and I wanted so much to go to the tomb of the Pope. The guide said one is buried in the church. You have seen so much, Marta—have you ever seen a Pope's tomb?"
"No,carina, but we must go back now, at once, to Guiseppe."
"Back to Guiseppe," Pappina repeated slowly, "back to Guiseppe." She grew thoughtful. "Marta, must we go back to Guiseppe? May we not run a way?"
"Oh, my sweet baby, we must—we must go back to Guiseppe!"
They met him walking to meet them. Hesmiled kindly as they approached him. He even held out his hand to Pappina, but she paid no attention to his overture for friendship and forgiveness.
"Have you already said your prayers?" he asked, looking at Marta.
"Our prayers were short," she replied. "We thought you would not like to be kept waiting."
"And Pappina! She has no use for Guiseppe this morning." He took one of her curls in his hand as he spoke.
"You were bad yesterday, Guiseppe," Pappina answered with a jerk of her head that snatched the curl from his hand.
"You are right,bambina, you are right. Forgive me. Guiseppe was a regular brute yesterday; wasn't he?" he asked in a tone that seemed to crave denial from the child.
"You were, Guiseppe," she replied with a sunny smile as she took hold of his hand, "you really were; but if you are sorry, I'll forgive you."
CHAPTER VIIIAlong the Coast and in AmalfiThey were all sitting on the ground under a broad spreading tree; Guiseppe was smoking and Marta teaching Pappina the alphabet. Little sticks and bits of grass were brought into use for the construction of the letters.Pappina was much interested for a while, but she was altogether too impatient a child to keep at one thing for any length of time."I'm sure I've learned enough for one day, Marta." With her foot she scattered the letters to the four winds. Then, turning to Guiseppe, she asked: "Where are we going next? I want to go where there are people to sing to.""You'll find plenty at Amalfi.""Amalfi? Is that the name of the town we are going to?" Guiseppe nodded. "Why, I thought this road was called Amalfi—something or other—what is it, Marta?""It is called the Amalfi Coast, but there alsois a town called Amalfi. That is where we are going next."The Amalfi coastPappina arose, and brushed off the loose grass clinging to her dress. She stood for a moment in front of Guiseppe, looking about as though uncertain what to do with herself. As he smiled kindly upon her she ventured to ask:"Come, Guiseppe, aren't you tired of sitting here so long, just smoking that old pipe? Mayn't we go now?" Seeing no move on his part, she added, "Please, Guiseppe," as she stretched out her hands to assist him to rise.He playfully blew a cloud of smoke in her face."Don't be so impatient, little one," he answered. "No hurry. Here, Marta, take her down to the water and show her how to skip stones."Joyously Pappina took Marta by the hand and together they almost ran to the promontory. It was some time before the child wearied of this new recreation. Marta, remembering that the English song was still unlearned, improved this opportunity to sing it again and again as she skipped the stones. Soon Pappina was singing it with her, and the little song was learned.When Pappina ran back and sang it for Guiseppe, he laughed heartily, which evidence of good humor gave Pappina the courage to plead:"Come, Guiseppe, do! Marta says it is beautiful along the coast, and that there are great rocks with the sweetest violet flowers growing out of them. Come, Guiseppe, I want to pick some of those flowers.""But,carina," Marta reminded her, "did I not tell you that these blossoms live only on the rocks and die if plucked? Besides, you cannot reach—""Sit down,bambina," interrupted Guiseppe. "When I finish this pipe, we will trudge along to Amalfi."Pappina was reluctant to wait, but she sat down beside Guiseppe, and amused herself trying to catch the curls of smoke which he was puffing from his pipe."Hold up your foot, little one." Guiseppe took up her foot as he spoke. "See, Marta, the girl has nearly tramped and danced her shoes off. I suppose that means new ones again,bambina."It took little kindness to make Pappina forget ill usage, little to make her happy. She movedclose to Guiseppe's side in her impetuous way, and leaned her head against his arm. He saw the tears in her eyes. Again taking one of her feet in his hand, he said with gentleness:"Marta, think of the miles this child has walked There's not much sole left, and the leather—look at it! Well, what do you think. Marta? Do you suppose we can find shoes in Amalfi to fit such little feet?""Why, Guiseppe," exclaimed Pappina, "you don't really mean I shall have another new pair! I've been so bad, too. You know I've been horrid, but so have you, Guiseppe, and its only Marta who's been good, and we—" She took one of Guiseppe's hands in hers, kissed it, and began to cry."There, there,bambina, we've both been bad. We'll start all over again. Don't cry. Here, Marta, suppose you take her down to the water again. See, a little way down there the children are in bathing. You may as well let Pappina go in. It will do her good and rest her. She doesn't complain, for she's not the whimpering kind, but she looks tired out."Pappina dried her tears and Marta soon hadher in the bright water. This was the first time Pappina had ever been in bathing, and at first she was afraid. Marta quickly calmed her fears, and her merry laughter reached Guiseppe's ears, luring him to the shore.When Pappina was called, much to Marta and Guiseppe's surprise, there was no teasing to stay in longer; just a big splash. She came up half strangling, shook herself, and was out of the water refreshed and bubbling with happiness. When dressed, she ran to Guiseppe and seized his two hands."Let's dance, Guiseppe," she cried.Before he realized it, Pappina was gleefully whirling him round and round. Guiseppe found himself quite out of breath from laughter and dancing. Soon, however, he pantingly released himself."I feel so fine after my bath that I could run all the way to Amalfi," the child cried, "I'm sure I could! Guiseppe, because you let me go in the water, I love you enough to eat you this very minute. Come, mayn't we go now?"Guiseppe, lighting his pipe, made playful answer:"There's a little lady I know who made a stiff old man dance till he was all out of breath, and now he has to rest a bit before he starts to tramp again."Pappina heaved a little sigh as she sat down by Marta and began to make pictures out of the white clouds in the bright blue Italian sky."Do you see that animal?" she asked, pointing to the clouds. "There's the head, and over there—see—doesn't that look like the tail? What is it, Marta?"Marta studied the cloud a moment before replying: "It looks more like a crocodile than anything else.""Please, Marta, tell me again about that awful crocodile."Guiseppe looked questioningly at Marta."I was telling her yesterday that we should go through Maori," she explained. "I went there years ago with Countess Filota.""What has that to do with the crocodile?""Tell him, Marta," Pappina begged. "He'll like the story.""Once upon a time, so the story goes, there lived an immense crocodile in the cave near Maori.It was said and believed that he who dared kill the crocodile would immediately turn into a fierce dragon. People preferred to chance being eaten rather than to kill him at such a risk. He was said to feed only upon Christians.""Why didn't he eat the bad people?" asked the child.Guiseppe laughed."Just as you were going to eat me a few minutes ago," he said, "because I let you go in the water! Well, we may as well tramp along. We've lots of places to go and plenty of rough roads to travel. No matter where we go, there'll be people to amuse. The more money we get the sooner we'll go to America. Come, Marta; come, Pappina. Where are the puppets? Here's the whole show now, and all of us are happy—eh,bambina?"Marta hastily tied up the few effects into a small, neat bundle. Guiseppe picked up the Punchinellos, while Pappina, as usual, had only her tambourine.They sauntered contentedly along up the rising road, across the bridge over the valley, reaching Vietri at sunset. There, under one of the beautifulterraces that abound on this coast, they remained over night.Pappina was the first to awaken. For some time she took pleasure in watching the many colors of the water and the boats coming and going. She saw in the distance a throng of early bathers—men and women swimming in the clear bright bay, or basking on the beach in the early morning sun. The bright hues of the bathing–suits first attracted Pappina's attention. As soon as she saw the gay colors she wished to go and watch the bathers."I'm going to watch them," she whispered softly to Marta. "I'll be back soon, Marta."Marta shook her head."You had better not go,carina," she answered. "Guiseppe may not like it if he awakens and finds you gone.""I won't run away," the child persisted. "Truly, Marta, I'll be back soon. I'm happy now, Marta; tell Guiseppe so, and that I'll surely be back in a little while. Perhaps I'll be back before he wakes up. It's all right for me to go, isn't it, Marta?""Go, but don't stay long,carina."Pappina was so accustomed to carry her tambourine everywhere she went that from force of habit she took it with her this morning. Her dress was shabby from hard wear, but her eyes were gloriously bright as she lifted them to smile into the faces of the fine ladies and gentlemen down for their early morning swim.They noted the abundant life that shone from her eyes, the unconsciousness of her manner. The worn frock only added charm to her looks, contrasting with her loveliness as she stood near the throng, not daring to approach.It was her shyness that brought to her the attention of these foreigners, who had grown accustomed to being followed by children begging for money or ready to sing forsoldi. A group on the beach watched her, lost in admiration."Have you ever in all your life seen such eyes?" It was an American lady who spoke. "Talk to her; see what she is here for. She has her tambourine; is she a wandering minstrel, do you think? Or don't they have such things in Italy?"Pappina little thought they were talking about her as she stood laughing at the pranks of the people in the water. She was interested in themall—the dark and the fair; the slight and the stout; those coming and those going; all seemingly satisfied with life as they found it in the brilliant season's height at Vietri."There's the sweetest sight I've seen in all Italy!" exclaimed one of the bathers. "Let's ask for a song."Pappina, when she saw one of the gentlemen approaching her, turned to run, half–afraid of the big man in his striped bathing–suit, but hearing a lady's voice calling her, she looked back. She saw that the gentleman was closely followed by some half–dozen ladies, so she smilingly and timidly approached them."Will you give us a song?" the gentleman asked her in English.Pappina shook her head as she said in her own tongue:"I am Italian and I do not understand what you say."He struck her tambourine."Si, si, signor." Pappina guessed what they wanted. She sang a song. They begged for another, so she gave them the little song in English which Marta had taught her. Her accent amusedthem, and they laughed heartily as they gave her money.Amalfi"It's mine, all mine!" she cried as she left the foreigners. "But Guiseppe is so good he may have it all. I'll put it in my shoe and take it out piece by piece. He must guess what each one is. Oh, won't it be fun, and how glad he'll be!"She laughed aloud as she hid her money. Her heart was so light that her joy broke from her lips in snatches of song as she tripped blithely back to Marta and Guiseppe.Meanwhile Guiseppe had awakened in unusual ill–humor."Marta," he growled, "those confounded sticks hurt my back all night! Why didn't you clear them away? You must have seen them. I notice there are none where your idol slept."He looked around. "Where is she, anyway?""She went, only for a moment, to watch the bathers.""Watch the bathers? She has run away: that's what she has done."Stopping to tie her shoe, Pappina heard Guiseppe's gruff voice swearing at Marta. He wasstanding in front of his wife, so neither could see the child coming down the road.Marta's voice, perfectly calm, reached Pappina."Too bad she doesn't run away," the woman said, "but she'll return."For days Marta had been growing braver, less fearful of Guiseppe. There was no sign of fright on her face even when Guiseppe shook his fist at her."You grow a bigger fool every day," he was saying. "You let her go. When I find her I'll beat her. If I'm good to her one day she walks over me the next. I'll beat you both, you fool, do you hear?""Sono qui[I am here], Guiseppe," came faintly from Pappina's trembling lips. "Don't be cross, Guiseppe. I didn't think you would care."Guiseppe turned toward her fiercely; he started to upbraid her, but there was such an expression of submissive beauty on her face, that he stopped and wheeled suddenly about."Get along," he muttered. "I'll walk behind to–day for a change."Pappina forgot about the money, even that she had it, until it hurt her foot as she walked."I'll never tell," she vowed to herself. "It's mine, and some day when he's so mean and horrid that we can't stand him any longer, Marta and I will run away."Several times, in a forgiving spirit, Pappina went back to Guiseppe and walked by his side, trying to be friendly with him. Her efforts each time were met with a scowl that sent her again to Marta, who always gave her a welcoming smile.Guiseppe grumbled almost constantly to himself. Marta, fearing trouble, said to Pappina:"Won't you try once more,carina?It is best for us all to have no discord.""I want to be friends with Guiseppe," replied Pappina.She waited again for the man. This time she look hold of his hand and, looking archly into his face, asked: "Is he going to be cross all day?"He pulled his hand away."Don't you like me this morning?" There was no reply. "Not a bit, Guiseppe?"No one but such a bear as Guiseppe was just then could have resisted this fairy, who smiled so steadfastly into his face."Basta," he said sternly. This rebuff wassufficient for Pappina. She took her place by Marta's side and they walked on in silence, trudging over four and a half miles to the little fishing village of Cetara.On the beach was a group of fishermen, with their wives and children—the women busily mending their fishing–nets, the men smoking and chatting; all enjoying life together.As soon as Guiseppe saw them he hastened his footsteps, overtook Marta and Pappina, and was soon far ahead of them, down on the beach with the fishermen.When Marta and Pappina reached the group they stopped and stood hesitating whether or not to join Guiseppe. There was no sign from him."Perhaps he is waiting for you," Marta said to Pappina.The child went toward Guiseppe, but as soon as she reached him he turned from her as though her presence annoyed him. Thinking to please him, she began to sing, but he raised his hand and silenced her."Stop!" he growled. "This is the place for the puppets, not you."His bad temper showed even in the puppetperformance. The little he received from the fishermen did not improve his mood. Without a word to any one he took up the Punchinellos and, muttering to himself, walked doggedly, on, passing without a stop through Majori, Minori and Altrani, angry at the whole beautiful world.There were so many things to interest Pappina that she forgot Guiseppe's unkindness. The orange trees and lemon plantations were a beautiful picture that called forth constant exclamations of admiration and delight.By–and–by, however, the money hurt her foot so severely that she could not enjoy anything. She was glad when the long tramp was over and they were at last at Amalfi.Guiseppe threw himself down exhausted. Marta sat down beside him, and Pappina behind both. She wanted to take off her shoe and she was determined Guiseppe should not see the money. Her little foot was blistered from the rubbing of the coins."Oh, what shall I do with them? They hurt me so! He'll surely see them and take them from me if I don't put them back in my shoe." So she replaced them, ate her supper, went to sleep,and dreamed all night that she was walking on thistles.The following morning, Guiseppe did not seem at all inclined to move on. Neither Marta nor Pappina cared to speak to him, nor he to them. Along in the afternoon, the silence began to be distressing to Pappina."What do you suppose he is going to do?" she asked Marta. "I won't ask him; he's so cross I won't speak to him."Marta shook her head."We shall just have to wait," she whispered. "Try to be patient."Not far away, boys were coming from a large building, bearing on their heads long boxes or boards. Pappina watched them for a time; then she asked Marta what they were doing."They are bringing outpaste[letter noodles]," Marta explained. "Do you see how they spread it out in the sun? That is so it will dry.""I wish we were nearer, so I could see them better. May I go?""No,carina; I am sure Guiseppe will not let you, and I—no, I am sorry,carina, but I dare not let you go.""But I want to go much so, Marta. Won't you please ask him?""It will only make him crosser,carina.""I dare not ask him, for he will not even look at me," the child went on. "If you only knew how much I want to go, you would ask him. Please, please ask him, Marta!"Pappina had been losing her courage and Marta steadily growing braver. When she decided to grant Pappina's request, she felt quite fearless of Guiseppe as she went to his side."Guiseppe, have you noticed those boys?""I couldn't help noticing them, could I? They've been doing the same thing all day.""Shall we walk over there and watch them?""Watch them! What for?"By this time, Pappina had found courage to join Marta, who continued:"I thought perhaps you would like to go. Pappina is interested in what they are doing; would you care if she goes for a while?"Guiseppe made no reply. "I'll come back, Guiseppe," Pappina pleaded. "I know I'm bad and cross, but I have never told you a lie, never one." There was no reply. "I want so much togo. Oh, won't you please let me, Guiseppe?"Pappina's earnest little face was raised appealingly toward his, but he did not even glance at her as he replied:"Get along. I'll be glad to be rid of you for an hour. One hour—no longer—or there'll be trouble; do you hear?""Si, signor, I'll be back."Guiseppe's consent was hardly given before she was off. For some time she watched the boys bringing out the paste, but it made her hungry."I'm starved," she said to herself. "I will spend one of mysoldifor macaroni."After she had eaten the macaroni she decided that she had much time to see the town in the hour Guiseppe had allowed her.She came to St. Andrew's Cathedral."Maybe if I pray, Guiseppe will stop being so cross. Maybe I'm cross, too," she said to herself as she ran up the long flight of stairs leading to the entrance.Children were playing in the church. An American lady gave themsoldito say prayers for her son. There were ladies near Pappina who were speaking in her own tongue. She heard themsay they were going to visit St. Andrew's tomb. Pappina followed them.At the tomb she knelt, and, bowing her head, began to say her prayers. As she prayed her tired eyelids gradually closed; she lost herself. Starting up, she remembered she was in church, praying; so she began again, "Santa Maria." The little head drooped. She opened her eyes. "S–a–n–t–a M–a–r–i–a—" The weary child had knelt, prayed, and fallen asleep, beside the tomb of St. Andrew.It was late at night that the sexton, going his rounds, was startled to see what appeared to be a bundle of something red lying by the tomb. Throwing the full rays of the lantern upon the object, he discovered that it was a little child. Many times before he had found children sleeping in the church, but never one by this sacred tomb."Poverina!" he exclaimed, awakening her as gently as possible. "Poverina, you cannot sleep here. I am sorry, but it is against the rules. You must run home. Come." He took her by the arm, led her to the door and put her out in the darkness.Pappina, scarcely awake, was dazed when leftalone. She heard the door close, heard the key turn. For a moment she could not think where she was, or what had happened. She only knew that it was very dark, that she was alone and afraid. She pounded on the church door.A street in Amalfi"Let me in, let me in," she begged. "I'm afraid."No one came to her call; she peered up and down the street. There was no one in sight."I shall lose my way if I try to go back alonein the dark," she thought. Then she crouched down on the church steps and cried herself to sleep.Early next morning, Guiseppe and Marta started to search for Pappina. As they neared St. Andrew's Cathedral Marta spied something red at the top of the steps."Wait, Guiseppe! I think—" she left the sentence unfinished as she dashed up the steps and snatched Pappina in her arms, uttering tender, loving words. Guiseppe followed, with scowls and mutterings.Pappina, being thus awakened, threw her arms about Marta's neck, and cried from sheer joy at finding herself safe."Oh, oh, I was lost, and so frightened I dared not move! I meant to come back in an hour, Guiseppe, truly I did, but it was dark, and I could not find my way."The sexton, hearing voices, opened the door."I found your little girl last night," he said. "You see, she was sleeping by the sacred tomb of St.—""Diavolo!" interrupted Guiseppe harshly. "Why didn't you kick her down the steps?""Guiseppe, for shame! The poor little dear!" Marta cried, as she hugged Pappina close to her."Don't be hard on the child," begged the sexton. "She was tired and sleepy. I'd have let her sleep inside, but it's against the rules, so I had to put her out.Poverina," he said, laying his hand on Pappina's head."Poverina!Bah! Put her down, Marta." Guiseppe took Pappina roughly by the arm as he continued: "I'm sick of your behavior. You must understand you are bound to me—to me. I paid money for you, and what do I get? Trouble, trouble, nothing else.""I know it, Guiseppe. I'm sorry, but this time I couldn't help it."
Along the Coast and in Amalfi
They were all sitting on the ground under a broad spreading tree; Guiseppe was smoking and Marta teaching Pappina the alphabet. Little sticks and bits of grass were brought into use for the construction of the letters.
Pappina was much interested for a while, but she was altogether too impatient a child to keep at one thing for any length of time.
"I'm sure I've learned enough for one day, Marta." With her foot she scattered the letters to the four winds. Then, turning to Guiseppe, she asked: "Where are we going next? I want to go where there are people to sing to."
"You'll find plenty at Amalfi."
"Amalfi? Is that the name of the town we are going to?" Guiseppe nodded. "Why, I thought this road was called Amalfi—something or other—what is it, Marta?"
"It is called the Amalfi Coast, but there alsois a town called Amalfi. That is where we are going next."
The Amalfi coast
The Amalfi coast
The Amalfi coast
Pappina arose, and brushed off the loose grass clinging to her dress. She stood for a moment in front of Guiseppe, looking about as though uncertain what to do with herself. As he smiled kindly upon her she ventured to ask:
"Come, Guiseppe, aren't you tired of sitting here so long, just smoking that old pipe? Mayn't we go now?" Seeing no move on his part, she added, "Please, Guiseppe," as she stretched out her hands to assist him to rise.
He playfully blew a cloud of smoke in her face.
"Don't be so impatient, little one," he answered. "No hurry. Here, Marta, take her down to the water and show her how to skip stones."
Joyously Pappina took Marta by the hand and together they almost ran to the promontory. It was some time before the child wearied of this new recreation. Marta, remembering that the English song was still unlearned, improved this opportunity to sing it again and again as she skipped the stones. Soon Pappina was singing it with her, and the little song was learned.
When Pappina ran back and sang it for Guiseppe, he laughed heartily, which evidence of good humor gave Pappina the courage to plead:
"Come, Guiseppe, do! Marta says it is beautiful along the coast, and that there are great rocks with the sweetest violet flowers growing out of them. Come, Guiseppe, I want to pick some of those flowers."
"But,carina," Marta reminded her, "did I not tell you that these blossoms live only on the rocks and die if plucked? Besides, you cannot reach—"
"Sit down,bambina," interrupted Guiseppe. "When I finish this pipe, we will trudge along to Amalfi."
Pappina was reluctant to wait, but she sat down beside Guiseppe, and amused herself trying to catch the curls of smoke which he was puffing from his pipe.
"Hold up your foot, little one." Guiseppe took up her foot as he spoke. "See, Marta, the girl has nearly tramped and danced her shoes off. I suppose that means new ones again,bambina."
It took little kindness to make Pappina forget ill usage, little to make her happy. She movedclose to Guiseppe's side in her impetuous way, and leaned her head against his arm. He saw the tears in her eyes. Again taking one of her feet in his hand, he said with gentleness:
"Marta, think of the miles this child has walked There's not much sole left, and the leather—look at it! Well, what do you think. Marta? Do you suppose we can find shoes in Amalfi to fit such little feet?"
"Why, Guiseppe," exclaimed Pappina, "you don't really mean I shall have another new pair! I've been so bad, too. You know I've been horrid, but so have you, Guiseppe, and its only Marta who's been good, and we—" She took one of Guiseppe's hands in hers, kissed it, and began to cry.
"There, there,bambina, we've both been bad. We'll start all over again. Don't cry. Here, Marta, suppose you take her down to the water again. See, a little way down there the children are in bathing. You may as well let Pappina go in. It will do her good and rest her. She doesn't complain, for she's not the whimpering kind, but she looks tired out."
Pappina dried her tears and Marta soon hadher in the bright water. This was the first time Pappina had ever been in bathing, and at first she was afraid. Marta quickly calmed her fears, and her merry laughter reached Guiseppe's ears, luring him to the shore.
When Pappina was called, much to Marta and Guiseppe's surprise, there was no teasing to stay in longer; just a big splash. She came up half strangling, shook herself, and was out of the water refreshed and bubbling with happiness. When dressed, she ran to Guiseppe and seized his two hands.
"Let's dance, Guiseppe," she cried.
Before he realized it, Pappina was gleefully whirling him round and round. Guiseppe found himself quite out of breath from laughter and dancing. Soon, however, he pantingly released himself.
"I feel so fine after my bath that I could run all the way to Amalfi," the child cried, "I'm sure I could! Guiseppe, because you let me go in the water, I love you enough to eat you this very minute. Come, mayn't we go now?"
Guiseppe, lighting his pipe, made playful answer:
"There's a little lady I know who made a stiff old man dance till he was all out of breath, and now he has to rest a bit before he starts to tramp again."
Pappina heaved a little sigh as she sat down by Marta and began to make pictures out of the white clouds in the bright blue Italian sky.
"Do you see that animal?" she asked, pointing to the clouds. "There's the head, and over there—see—doesn't that look like the tail? What is it, Marta?"
Marta studied the cloud a moment before replying: "It looks more like a crocodile than anything else."
"Please, Marta, tell me again about that awful crocodile."
Guiseppe looked questioningly at Marta.
"I was telling her yesterday that we should go through Maori," she explained. "I went there years ago with Countess Filota."
"What has that to do with the crocodile?"
"Tell him, Marta," Pappina begged. "He'll like the story."
"Once upon a time, so the story goes, there lived an immense crocodile in the cave near Maori.It was said and believed that he who dared kill the crocodile would immediately turn into a fierce dragon. People preferred to chance being eaten rather than to kill him at such a risk. He was said to feed only upon Christians."
"Why didn't he eat the bad people?" asked the child.
Guiseppe laughed.
"Just as you were going to eat me a few minutes ago," he said, "because I let you go in the water! Well, we may as well tramp along. We've lots of places to go and plenty of rough roads to travel. No matter where we go, there'll be people to amuse. The more money we get the sooner we'll go to America. Come, Marta; come, Pappina. Where are the puppets? Here's the whole show now, and all of us are happy—eh,bambina?"
Marta hastily tied up the few effects into a small, neat bundle. Guiseppe picked up the Punchinellos, while Pappina, as usual, had only her tambourine.
They sauntered contentedly along up the rising road, across the bridge over the valley, reaching Vietri at sunset. There, under one of the beautifulterraces that abound on this coast, they remained over night.
Pappina was the first to awaken. For some time she took pleasure in watching the many colors of the water and the boats coming and going. She saw in the distance a throng of early bathers—men and women swimming in the clear bright bay, or basking on the beach in the early morning sun. The bright hues of the bathing–suits first attracted Pappina's attention. As soon as she saw the gay colors she wished to go and watch the bathers.
"I'm going to watch them," she whispered softly to Marta. "I'll be back soon, Marta."
Marta shook her head.
"You had better not go,carina," she answered. "Guiseppe may not like it if he awakens and finds you gone."
"I won't run away," the child persisted. "Truly, Marta, I'll be back soon. I'm happy now, Marta; tell Guiseppe so, and that I'll surely be back in a little while. Perhaps I'll be back before he wakes up. It's all right for me to go, isn't it, Marta?"
"Go, but don't stay long,carina."
Pappina was so accustomed to carry her tambourine everywhere she went that from force of habit she took it with her this morning. Her dress was shabby from hard wear, but her eyes were gloriously bright as she lifted them to smile into the faces of the fine ladies and gentlemen down for their early morning swim.
They noted the abundant life that shone from her eyes, the unconsciousness of her manner. The worn frock only added charm to her looks, contrasting with her loveliness as she stood near the throng, not daring to approach.
It was her shyness that brought to her the attention of these foreigners, who had grown accustomed to being followed by children begging for money or ready to sing forsoldi. A group on the beach watched her, lost in admiration.
"Have you ever in all your life seen such eyes?" It was an American lady who spoke. "Talk to her; see what she is here for. She has her tambourine; is she a wandering minstrel, do you think? Or don't they have such things in Italy?"
Pappina little thought they were talking about her as she stood laughing at the pranks of the people in the water. She was interested in themall—the dark and the fair; the slight and the stout; those coming and those going; all seemingly satisfied with life as they found it in the brilliant season's height at Vietri.
"There's the sweetest sight I've seen in all Italy!" exclaimed one of the bathers. "Let's ask for a song."
Pappina, when she saw one of the gentlemen approaching her, turned to run, half–afraid of the big man in his striped bathing–suit, but hearing a lady's voice calling her, she looked back. She saw that the gentleman was closely followed by some half–dozen ladies, so she smilingly and timidly approached them.
"Will you give us a song?" the gentleman asked her in English.
Pappina shook her head as she said in her own tongue:
"I am Italian and I do not understand what you say."
He struck her tambourine.
"Si, si, signor." Pappina guessed what they wanted. She sang a song. They begged for another, so she gave them the little song in English which Marta had taught her. Her accent amusedthem, and they laughed heartily as they gave her money.
Amalfi
Amalfi
Amalfi
"It's mine, all mine!" she cried as she left the foreigners. "But Guiseppe is so good he may have it all. I'll put it in my shoe and take it out piece by piece. He must guess what each one is. Oh, won't it be fun, and how glad he'll be!"
She laughed aloud as she hid her money. Her heart was so light that her joy broke from her lips in snatches of song as she tripped blithely back to Marta and Guiseppe.
Meanwhile Guiseppe had awakened in unusual ill–humor.
"Marta," he growled, "those confounded sticks hurt my back all night! Why didn't you clear them away? You must have seen them. I notice there are none where your idol slept."
He looked around. "Where is she, anyway?"
"She went, only for a moment, to watch the bathers."
"Watch the bathers? She has run away: that's what she has done."
Stopping to tie her shoe, Pappina heard Guiseppe's gruff voice swearing at Marta. He wasstanding in front of his wife, so neither could see the child coming down the road.
Marta's voice, perfectly calm, reached Pappina.
"Too bad she doesn't run away," the woman said, "but she'll return."
For days Marta had been growing braver, less fearful of Guiseppe. There was no sign of fright on her face even when Guiseppe shook his fist at her.
"You grow a bigger fool every day," he was saying. "You let her go. When I find her I'll beat her. If I'm good to her one day she walks over me the next. I'll beat you both, you fool, do you hear?"
"Sono qui[I am here], Guiseppe," came faintly from Pappina's trembling lips. "Don't be cross, Guiseppe. I didn't think you would care."
Guiseppe turned toward her fiercely; he started to upbraid her, but there was such an expression of submissive beauty on her face, that he stopped and wheeled suddenly about.
"Get along," he muttered. "I'll walk behind to–day for a change."
Pappina forgot about the money, even that she had it, until it hurt her foot as she walked.
"I'll never tell," she vowed to herself. "It's mine, and some day when he's so mean and horrid that we can't stand him any longer, Marta and I will run away."
Several times, in a forgiving spirit, Pappina went back to Guiseppe and walked by his side, trying to be friendly with him. Her efforts each time were met with a scowl that sent her again to Marta, who always gave her a welcoming smile.
Guiseppe grumbled almost constantly to himself. Marta, fearing trouble, said to Pappina:
"Won't you try once more,carina?It is best for us all to have no discord."
"I want to be friends with Guiseppe," replied Pappina.
She waited again for the man. This time she look hold of his hand and, looking archly into his face, asked: "Is he going to be cross all day?"
He pulled his hand away.
"Don't you like me this morning?" There was no reply. "Not a bit, Guiseppe?"
No one but such a bear as Guiseppe was just then could have resisted this fairy, who smiled so steadfastly into his face.
"Basta," he said sternly. This rebuff wassufficient for Pappina. She took her place by Marta's side and they walked on in silence, trudging over four and a half miles to the little fishing village of Cetara.
On the beach was a group of fishermen, with their wives and children—the women busily mending their fishing–nets, the men smoking and chatting; all enjoying life together.
As soon as Guiseppe saw them he hastened his footsteps, overtook Marta and Pappina, and was soon far ahead of them, down on the beach with the fishermen.
When Marta and Pappina reached the group they stopped and stood hesitating whether or not to join Guiseppe. There was no sign from him.
"Perhaps he is waiting for you," Marta said to Pappina.
The child went toward Guiseppe, but as soon as she reached him he turned from her as though her presence annoyed him. Thinking to please him, she began to sing, but he raised his hand and silenced her.
"Stop!" he growled. "This is the place for the puppets, not you."
His bad temper showed even in the puppetperformance. The little he received from the fishermen did not improve his mood. Without a word to any one he took up the Punchinellos and, muttering to himself, walked doggedly, on, passing without a stop through Majori, Minori and Altrani, angry at the whole beautiful world.
There were so many things to interest Pappina that she forgot Guiseppe's unkindness. The orange trees and lemon plantations were a beautiful picture that called forth constant exclamations of admiration and delight.
By–and–by, however, the money hurt her foot so severely that she could not enjoy anything. She was glad when the long tramp was over and they were at last at Amalfi.
Guiseppe threw himself down exhausted. Marta sat down beside him, and Pappina behind both. She wanted to take off her shoe and she was determined Guiseppe should not see the money. Her little foot was blistered from the rubbing of the coins.
"Oh, what shall I do with them? They hurt me so! He'll surely see them and take them from me if I don't put them back in my shoe." So she replaced them, ate her supper, went to sleep,and dreamed all night that she was walking on thistles.
The following morning, Guiseppe did not seem at all inclined to move on. Neither Marta nor Pappina cared to speak to him, nor he to them. Along in the afternoon, the silence began to be distressing to Pappina.
"What do you suppose he is going to do?" she asked Marta. "I won't ask him; he's so cross I won't speak to him."
Marta shook her head.
"We shall just have to wait," she whispered. "Try to be patient."
Not far away, boys were coming from a large building, bearing on their heads long boxes or boards. Pappina watched them for a time; then she asked Marta what they were doing.
"They are bringing outpaste[letter noodles]," Marta explained. "Do you see how they spread it out in the sun? That is so it will dry."
"I wish we were nearer, so I could see them better. May I go?"
"No,carina; I am sure Guiseppe will not let you, and I—no, I am sorry,carina, but I dare not let you go."
"But I want to go much so, Marta. Won't you please ask him?"
"It will only make him crosser,carina."
"I dare not ask him, for he will not even look at me," the child went on. "If you only knew how much I want to go, you would ask him. Please, please ask him, Marta!"
Pappina had been losing her courage and Marta steadily growing braver. When she decided to grant Pappina's request, she felt quite fearless of Guiseppe as she went to his side.
"Guiseppe, have you noticed those boys?"
"I couldn't help noticing them, could I? They've been doing the same thing all day."
"Shall we walk over there and watch them?"
"Watch them! What for?"
By this time, Pappina had found courage to join Marta, who continued:
"I thought perhaps you would like to go. Pappina is interested in what they are doing; would you care if she goes for a while?"
Guiseppe made no reply. "I'll come back, Guiseppe," Pappina pleaded. "I know I'm bad and cross, but I have never told you a lie, never one." There was no reply. "I want so much togo. Oh, won't you please let me, Guiseppe?"
Pappina's earnest little face was raised appealingly toward his, but he did not even glance at her as he replied:
"Get along. I'll be glad to be rid of you for an hour. One hour—no longer—or there'll be trouble; do you hear?"
"Si, signor, I'll be back."
Guiseppe's consent was hardly given before she was off. For some time she watched the boys bringing out the paste, but it made her hungry.
"I'm starved," she said to herself. "I will spend one of mysoldifor macaroni."
After she had eaten the macaroni she decided that she had much time to see the town in the hour Guiseppe had allowed her.
She came to St. Andrew's Cathedral.
"Maybe if I pray, Guiseppe will stop being so cross. Maybe I'm cross, too," she said to herself as she ran up the long flight of stairs leading to the entrance.
Children were playing in the church. An American lady gave themsoldito say prayers for her son. There were ladies near Pappina who were speaking in her own tongue. She heard themsay they were going to visit St. Andrew's tomb. Pappina followed them.
At the tomb she knelt, and, bowing her head, began to say her prayers. As she prayed her tired eyelids gradually closed; she lost herself. Starting up, she remembered she was in church, praying; so she began again, "Santa Maria." The little head drooped. She opened her eyes. "S–a–n–t–a M–a–r–i–a—" The weary child had knelt, prayed, and fallen asleep, beside the tomb of St. Andrew.
It was late at night that the sexton, going his rounds, was startled to see what appeared to be a bundle of something red lying by the tomb. Throwing the full rays of the lantern upon the object, he discovered that it was a little child. Many times before he had found children sleeping in the church, but never one by this sacred tomb.
"Poverina!" he exclaimed, awakening her as gently as possible. "Poverina, you cannot sleep here. I am sorry, but it is against the rules. You must run home. Come." He took her by the arm, led her to the door and put her out in the darkness.
Pappina, scarcely awake, was dazed when leftalone. She heard the door close, heard the key turn. For a moment she could not think where she was, or what had happened. She only knew that it was very dark, that she was alone and afraid. She pounded on the church door.
A street in Amalfi
A street in Amalfi
A street in Amalfi
"Let me in, let me in," she begged. "I'm afraid."
No one came to her call; she peered up and down the street. There was no one in sight.
"I shall lose my way if I try to go back alonein the dark," she thought. Then she crouched down on the church steps and cried herself to sleep.
Early next morning, Guiseppe and Marta started to search for Pappina. As they neared St. Andrew's Cathedral Marta spied something red at the top of the steps.
"Wait, Guiseppe! I think—" she left the sentence unfinished as she dashed up the steps and snatched Pappina in her arms, uttering tender, loving words. Guiseppe followed, with scowls and mutterings.
Pappina, being thus awakened, threw her arms about Marta's neck, and cried from sheer joy at finding herself safe.
"Oh, oh, I was lost, and so frightened I dared not move! I meant to come back in an hour, Guiseppe, truly I did, but it was dark, and I could not find my way."
The sexton, hearing voices, opened the door.
"I found your little girl last night," he said. "You see, she was sleeping by the sacred tomb of St.—"
"Diavolo!" interrupted Guiseppe harshly. "Why didn't you kick her down the steps?"
"Guiseppe, for shame! The poor little dear!" Marta cried, as she hugged Pappina close to her.
"Don't be hard on the child," begged the sexton. "She was tired and sleepy. I'd have let her sleep inside, but it's against the rules, so I had to put her out.Poverina," he said, laying his hand on Pappina's head.
"Poverina!Bah! Put her down, Marta." Guiseppe took Pappina roughly by the arm as he continued: "I'm sick of your behavior. You must understand you are bound to me—to me. I paid money for you, and what do I get? Trouble, trouble, nothing else."
"I know it, Guiseppe. I'm sorry, but this time I couldn't help it."