Nobody's Boy

by Hector Malot

  CHAPTER XIII

  WEARY DREARY DAYS

  Again I had to tramp behind my master with the harp strapped to myshoulder, through the rain, the sun, the dust, and the mud. I had toplay the fool and laugh and cry in order to please the "distinguishedaudience."

  More than once in our long walks I lagged behind to think of Arthur, hismother, and the _Swan_. When I was in some dirty village how I wouldlong for my pretty cabin on the barge. And how rough the sheets werenow. It was terrible to think that I should never again play withArthur, and never hear his mother's voice.

  Fortunately in my sorrow, which was very deep, I had one consolation;Vitalis was much kinder, kinder than he had ever been before. His mannerwith me had quite changed. I felt that he was more to me than a masternow. Often, if I dared, I would have embraced him, I so needed love. ButI had not the courage, for Vitalis was not a man with whom one dared befamiliar. At first it had been fear that kept me at a distance, but nowit was something vague, which resembled a sentiment of respect.

  When I left the village I had looked upon Vitalis the same as the othermen of the poorer class. I was not able to make distinctions, but thetwo months that I had lived with Mrs. Milligan had opened my eyes anddeveloped my intelligence. Looking at my master with more attention, itseemed to me that in manner and bearing he appeared to be very superior.His ways were like Mrs. Milligan's ways....

  Weeks passed. On our tramps, now, my eyes were always turned in thedirection of the water, not to the hills. I was always hoping that oneday I should see the _Swan_. If I saw a boat in the distance I alwaysthought that it might be the _Swan_. But it was not.

  We passed several days at Lyons, and all my spare time I spent on thedocks, looking up and down the river. I described the beautiful barge tothe fishermen and asked them if they had seen it, but no one had seenit.

  We had to leave Lyons at last and went on to Dijon; then I began to giveup hope of ever seeing Mrs. Milligan again, for at Lyons I had studiedall the maps of France, and I knew that the _Swan_ could not go fartherup the river to reach the Loire. It would branch off at Chalon. Wearrived at Chalon, and we went on again without seeing it. It was theend of my dream.

  To make things worse, the winter was now upon us, and we had to trampalong wearily in the blinding rain and slush. At night, when we arrivedat a wretched inn, or in a barn, tired out, wet to the skin, I couldnot drop off to sleep with laughter on my lips. Sometimes we were frozento the bone, and Pretty-Heart was as sad and mournful as myself.

  My master's object was to get to Paris as quickly as possible, for itwas only in Paris that we had a chance to give performances during thewinter. We were making very little money now, so we could not afford totake the train.

  After the cold sleet, the wind turned to the north. It had been verydamp for several days. At first we did not mind the biting north wind inour faces, but soon the sky filled with great black clouds and thewintry sun disappeared altogether. We knew that a snowstorm was coming.

  Vitalis was anxious to get to the next big town, where we could stay andgive several performances, if very bad weather overtook us.

  "Go to bed quickly," he said, when we got to an inn that night; "we aregoing to start at a very early hour to-morrow, because I don't want tobe caught in a snowstorm."

  He did not go to bed at once, but sat down by a corner of the kitchenfire to warm Pretty-Heart, who was suffering terribly from the cold. Themonkey had not ceased moaning, although we had wrapped him up in plentyof coverlets.

  The next morning I got up early as I had been told. It was not yet day,the sky was lowering and black, and there was not a star to be seen.When we opened the door a strong wind almost took us off our feet.

  "If I were in your place," said the innkeeper to Vitalis, "I wouldn'tventure out. We're going to have a terrible snowstorm."

  "I'm in a hurry," replied Vitalis, "and I want to get to Troyes beforeit comes on."

  "Thirty miles."

  Nevertheless, we started.

  Vitalis held Pretty-Heart tight against his body so as to give him someof his own warmth, and the dogs, pleased with the hard dry roads, racedbefore us. My master had bought a sheepskin for me at Dijon, and Iwrapped myself up in it with the wool inside.

  It was anything but agreeable when we opened our mouths, so we walkedalong in silence, hurrying as much to get warm as to get ahead. Althoughit was long past the hour of daybreak, the sky was still quite black.Although to the east a whitish band cut the clouds, yet the sun wouldnot come out. Looking across the country, objects were now becoming moredistinct. We could see the trees stripped of their leaves, and theshrubs and bushes with dry foliage rustling and cracking with the heavygusts of wind. There was no one on the roads, nor in the fields, not asound of cart wheels, nor the crack of a whip.

  Suddenly, in the distance, we could see a pale streak which got largerand larger as it came towards us. Then we heard a sort of hissingmurmur, the strange, harsh cry of the wild geese. The maddened flockflew over our heads; on they went, wildly fleeing from the north towardsthe south. Before they were out of sight, soft flakes were droppinggently from the skies and floating in the atmosphere.

  The country through which we tramped was desolate and bleak, themournful aspect seemed to add to the silence; only the shrill whistlingof the north wind was heard. Snowflakes, like tiny butterflies,fluttered around us, whirling incessantly without touching the ground.

  We made little headway. It seemed impossible that we could reach Troyesbefore the storm was fully upon us. But I did not worry; I thought thatif the snow fell it would not be so cold.

  I did not know what a snow storm could be. It was not long before Ilearned, and in a way that I shall never forget. The clouds weregathering from the northwest. The flakes no longer hovered in the air,but fell straight and swift, covering us from head to foot.

  "We shall have to take shelter in the first house we come to," murmuredVitalis; "we cannot make Troyes."

  I was pleased to hear him say that, but where could we find shelter? Asfar as the eye could reach there was not a house to be seen, noranything to indicate that we were nearing a village.

  Before us lay a forest with its dark depths, and on either side of usthe hills. The snow came down faster and thicker.

  We tramped in silence. My master lifted his sheepskin now and again forPretty-Heart to breathe more easily. From time to time we had to turnour heads to one side, so that we also could breathe. The dogs no longerraced ahead; they walked at our heels asking for the shelter that wewere unable to give them.

  We went slowly and painfully on, blinded, wet and frozen, and, althoughwe were now in the heart of the forest, the road through it was exposedto the full wind. Several times I saw my master glance to the left, asthough he were looking for something, but he said nothing. What did hehope to find? I looked straight before me, down the long road. As far asmy eye could reach, I could see nothing but woods on either side. Ithought we should never come to the end of that forest.

  I had seen the snow falling only through the window panes of a warmkitchen. How far off that warm kitchen seemed now! Our feet sunk intothe white bed of snow, deeper and deeper. Then, suddenly, without sayinga word, Vitalis pointed to the left. I looked and saw indistinctly alittle hut made of branches.

  We had to find the track that led to the hut. This was difficult, forthe snow was already thick enough to efface all trace of a path. Wescrambled through the bushes, and after crossing a ditch, we managed atlast to reach the hut and get inside. The dogs, in ecstasy, rolled overand over on the dry ground, barking. Our satisfaction was no less keenthan theirs.

  "I thought there would be a wood-cutter's cabin somewhere in theforest," said Vitalis. "Now, it can snow!"

  "Yes, let it snow," I said defiantly; "I don't care!"

  I went to the door, or rather to the opening of the hut, for there wasneither door nor window, and shook my coat and hat, so as not to wet theinside of our apartment.

  Our quarters were very
simply but strongly built. Its furnitureconsisted of a heap of dirt and some big stones for seats.

  In a house like this it was not difficult to find fuel; we had only totake it down from the walls and the roof, dragging out a few faggotshere and there. This was quickly done, and soon we had a bright flamingfire. It is true that the hut was soon filled with smoke, but what didthat matter? There was a flame, and it was heat that we wanted. I laydown, supporting myself on my two hands, and blew the fire; the dogs sataround the grate gravely; with necks stretched out they presented theirwet sides to the flames.

  Pretty-Heart soon ventured to peep from under Vitalis' coat; prudentlyputting the end of his nose outside, he looked about to take in hissurroundings. Evidently satisfied, he jumped quickly to the ground andtaking the best place before the fire he held out his two littletrembling hands to the flames.

  That morning before I had risen, Vitalis had packed some provisions.There was some bread and a piece of cheese. We all expressedsatisfaction at the sight of the food. Unfortunately, we were only ableto have a very small piece, for not knowing how long we should have tostay in the hut, Vitalis thought it advisable to keep some for supper. Iunderstood, but the dogs did not, and when they saw the bread put backin the bag before they had scarcely eaten, they held out their paws totheir master, scratching his neck, and performing pantomime gestures tomake him open the bag upon which their eyes were fixed. But Vitalis tookno notice of them; the bag was not opened. The dogs settled themselvesto go to sleep, Capi with his nose in the cinders. I thought that Iwould follow their example.

  I do not know how long I slept; when I awoke the snow had stoppedfalling. I looked outside. It was very deep; if we ventured out it wouldcome above our knees.

  What time was it? I could not ask Vitalis. His big silver watch, bywhich Capi had told the hour, had been sold. He had spent all his moneyto pay his prison fine, and when he bought my sheepskin at Dijon he hadparted with his big watch to pay for it. From the misty atmosphere itwas impossible for me to tell what hour it might be.

  There was not a sound to be heard; the snow seemed to have petrifiedevery movement of life. I was standing in the opening of our cabin whenI heard my master calling.

  "Do you want to get on your way?" he asked.

  "I don't know; I want to do what you wish."

  "Well, I think we ought to stay here; we are at least sheltered and havewarmth."

  That was true, but I remembered that we had no food. However, I saidnothing.

  "I'm afraid it will snow again," continued Vitalis. "We don't want tospend the night outside. Better stay here."

  Yes, we should have to stay in the hut and tighten our belts round ourstomachs, that was all.

  At supper Vitalis divided the remainder of the bread. Alas, there wasbut little, and it was quickly eaten; we gobbled up every crumb. Whenour frugal supper was over I thought that the dogs would begin makingsigns for more as they had done before, for they were ravenous. But theydid nothing of the kind, and once again I realized how great was theirintelligence.

  When Vitalis thrust his knife into his trouser pocket, which indicatedthat the feast was over, Capi got up and smelled the bag in which thefood was kept. He then placed his paw on the bag to feel it. This doubleinvestigation convinced him that there was nothing left to eat. Then,coming back to his place before the fire, he looked at Zerbino andDulcie. The look clearly signified that they would get nothing more;then he stretched himself out his entire length with a sigh ofresignation. "There is nothing more. It is useless to beg." He said thisto them as plainly as though he had spoken aloud.

  His companions, understanding this language, also stretched out beforethe fire sighing, but Zerbino's sigh in no wise betokened resignation,for added to a large appetite, Zerbino was very much of a gourmand, andthis was a greater sacrifice for him than for the others.

  The snow had commenced to fall again; it fell persistently. We could seethe white carpet on the ground rise higher and higher until the smallshrubs and bushes were hidden beneath it. When night came, big flakeswere still falling from the black sky onto the shimmering earth.

  As we had to sleep there, the best thing to do was to go to sleep asquickly as possible. I wrapped myself up in my sheepskin, which I haddried by the fire during the day, and I laid down beside the fire, myhead on a flat stone which served for a pillow.

  "You go to sleep," said Vitalis; "I'll wake you when it's my turn, foralthough we have nothing to fear from animals or people in this cabin,one of us must keep awake to see that the fire does not go out. We mustbe careful not to get cold, for it will be bitter when the snow stops."

  I slept. In the small hours of the night my master woke me. The firewas still burning, and the snow had stopped falling.

  "It's my turn to sleep now," said Vitalis; "as the fire goes down youthrow on this wood that I've got already here."

  He had piled up a heap of small wood by the grate. My master, who sleptmuch lighter than I, did not wish me to wake him by pulling down thewood from the walls each time I needed it. So from this heap that he hadprepared, I could take the wood and throw on the fire without making anoise. It was a wise thing to do, but alas, Vitalis did not know whatthe result would be.

  He stretched out now before the fire with Pretty-Heart in his coverletcuddled up against him, and soon, from his deep breathing, I knew thathe had fallen asleep. Then I got up softly and went to the opening tosee how it looked outside.

  All the grass, the bushes, and the trees were buried in snow. Everywherethe eye rested was a dazzling white. The sky was dotted with twinklingstars, but although they were so bright it was the snow which shed thepale light over the earth. It was much colder now; it was freezing hard.

  Oh! what should we have done in the depths of the forest in the snow andthe cold if we had not found this shelter?

  Although I had walked on tiptoe to the opening without scarcely making asound, I had roused the dogs, and Zerbino had followed me. The splendorof the night was nothing to him; he looked on the scene for a moment,and then became bored and wanted to go outside. I ordered him to returnto his place. Foolish dog, wasn't it better to stay by the warm fire inthis terrible cold than to go prowling around. He obeyed me, but with avery bad grace, and kept his eyes fixed on the entrance. I stayed therefor a few minutes longer, looking at the white night. It was beautiful,but although I enjoyed it, somehow I felt a vague sadness. I could havegone inside and not looked, of course, but the white, mysterious sceneheld me fascinated.

  At last I went back to the fire and having placed two or three longpieces of wood crossways upon one another, I sat down on the stone whichhad served me for a pillow. My master was sleeping calmly; the dogs andPretty-Heart also slept, and the flames leaped from the fire and swirledupward to the roof, throwing out bright sparks. The spluttering flamewas the only sound that broke the silence of the night. For a long timeI watched the sparks, then little by little I began to get drowsy,without my being aware.

  If I had been compelled to busy myself with getting the wood, I couldhave kept awake, but seated before the fire with nothing to do, I becameso sleepy, and yet all the time I thought that I could manage to keepawake.

  I sprang up suddenly, awakened by a violent barking! It was night. Iprobably had slept for a long time and the fire was almost out. Noflames lit the hut now. Capi was barking loudly, furiously. But,strange! there was no sound from Zerbino or Dulcie.

  "What's the matter?" cried Vitalis, waking up.

  "I don't know."

  "You've been to sleep, and the fire's gone out."

  Capi had run to the opening, but had not ventured outside. He stood onthe threshold barking.

  "What has happened?" I asked in my turn.

  In answer to Capi's barks came two or three mournful howls. I recognizedDulcie's voice. These howls came from behind our hut and at a very shortdistance.

  I was going out. But Vitalis put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me.

  "First," he said, in a tone of co
mmand, "put some wood on the fire."

  While I obeyed, he took a sprig from the fire and blew it out until onlythe point remained burning. He held the torch in his hand.

  "Come and see what is the matter," he said; "you walk behind me. Goahead, Capi."

  As we went out there was a frightful howl. Capi drew back, coweringbehind us in terror.

  "Wolves! Where are Zerbino and Dulcie?"

  What could I say? The two dogs must have gone out while I slept. Zerbinohad waited until I was asleep and had then crept out, and Dulcie hadfollowed him. The wolves had got hold of them! There was fear in mymaster's voice when he asked for the dogs.

  "Take a torch," he said, "we must go to their aid."

  In our village I had heard them tell terrible stories of wolves, yet Icould not hesitate. I ran back for a torch, then followed my master.

  But outside we could see neither dogs nor wolves. On the snow we couldsee only the imprint of the two dogs' paws. We followed these tracesaround the hut, then at a certain distance we could see a space in thesnow which looked as though some animals had been rolling in it.

  "Go and look for them, Capi," said my master; at the same time hewhistled to attract Zerbino and Dulcie.

  But there was no barking in reply; no sound disturbed the mournfulsilence of the forest, and Capi, instead of running off as he was told,kept close to us, giving every sign of fear. Capi who was usually soobedient and brave!

  There was not sufficient light for us to follow the imprints anydistance. The snow around us was dazzling, but beyond seemed all vagueand obscure.

  Again Vitalis whistled and shouted for the missing dogs. There was noanswering bark.

  Oh, poor Zerbino; poor Dulcie!

  "The wolves have got them," said Vitalis; "why did you let them go out?"

  Yes? why? I had nothing to say.

  "We must go and look for them," I said after a pause.

  I went before him, but he stopped me.

  "Where will you look for them?" he asked.

  "I don't know; everywhere."

  "We can't tell, in this dim light, where they have gone."

  That was true, and the snow came up above our knees. Our two torchestogether could not penetrate the shadows.

  "If they do not reply, it is because they are a long way off," he said."We must not go on; the wolves might attack us also. We cannot defendourselves."

  It was dreadful to have to leave the poor dogs to their fate--our twofriends; friends particularly to me. And the terrible part of it wasthat I knew that I was responsible. If I had not slept they would nothave gone out.

  My master had turned back to the hut. I followed, looking back at eachstep, stopping to listen. I heard nothing, and saw nothing but the snow.

  When we reached the hut another surprise awaited us. The branches that Ihad thrown on the fire were aflame and lit up the darkest corners of thecabin, but Pretty-Heart was nowhere to be seen. His coverlets were therebefore the fire, but he was not in them. I called. Vitalis called, buthe did not appear.

  My master said that when he awoke the monkey was beside him, so it waswhile we were out that he had disappeared. With our burning torchesheld down to the snowy earth we started out to look for him. We found notrace of him.

  We returned to the hut to see if he were hidden behind some faggots. Wesearched for a long time; ten times we looked in the same place, thesame corners. I climbed up on Vitalis' shoulders to look amongst thebranches of which the roof was made. We called again and again, butthere was no answer.

  Vitalis seemed angry. I was in despair. I asked my master if he thoughtthat the wolves could have taken him also.

  "No," he said, "the wolves would not dare come into the hut. I am afraidthey got Zerbino and Dulcie when they went out, but they did not come inhere. It is quite likely that Pretty-Heart was terrified and has hiddenhimself somewhere while we were outside; that is why I am so anxious. Inthis terrible weather he will catch cold, and cold is fatal for him."

  "Well, let us keep on looking."

  We went over the ground again, but all in vain.

  "We must wait till day," said Vitalis.

  "When will it be day?"

  "In two or three hours, I think."

  Vitalis sat down before the fire, with his head in his hands. I did notdare disturb him. I stood quite close to him, only moving occasionallyto put some branches on the fire. Once or twice he got up and went tothe door. He looked at the sky, listened attentively, then came backand sat down. I would rather that he had been angry with me, than thathe should be so silent and sad.

  The three hours passed slowly. It seemed that the night would never end.The stars were fading from the heavens, the sky was getting lighter. Daywas breaking. But as morning came the cold grew more intense; the airwhich came through the door froze us to the bone.

  If we did find Pretty-Heart, would he be alive?

  The snow had quite stopped falling now and there was a pinkish light inthe sky which foretold fine weather. As soon as it was quite light,Vitalis and I, armed with a stout stick, left the hut.

  Capi did not appear so terrified as he had been the night before. Withhis eyes fixed on his master, he only waited for a sign from him to rushforward. As we were examining the ground for Pretty-Heart's footprints,Capi threw back his head and began to bark joyfully. He signified thatwe must look up, not on the ground.

  In the great oak standing by the hut we found him.

  Poor Pretty-Heart! Frightened by the howling of the dogs, he had jumpedonto the roof of the cabin when we had gone out, and from there he hadclimbed to the top of an oak, where, feeling that he was in a safeplace, he had remained crouching, without replying to our calls.

  The poor little frail creature, he must be frozen!

  My master called him gently. He did not move. We thought that he wasalready dead. For several minutes Vitalis continued to call him, but themonkey gave no sign of life. My heart ached with remorse. How severely Iwas being punished! I must atone.

  "I'll go up and get him," I said.

  "You'll break your neck."

  "No, there is no danger. I can do it easily."

  That was not true. There was danger. It was very difficult, for thelarge tree was covered with ice and snow.

  When I was quite small I had learned to climb trees, and I was quite anadept in this art. I jumped and caught hold of the lowest branches. Iheld onto these, and, although blinded by the snow that fell in my eyes,I managed to climb up the trunk to the stronger branches. Once up thereI had only to be careful not to lose my footing.

  As I climbed I spoke softly to Pretty-Heart. He did not move, but lookedat me with shining eyes. I had almost reached him and was about tostretch out my hand, when, with a spring, he had jumped to anotherbranch. I followed him to this branch, but men, alas, and evenyoungsters are very inferior to monkeys when it comes to climbing trees.It is quite possible that I should never have caught him if the snow hadnot wet his feet. He did not like this and soon got tired of dodging me;then, letting himself drop from branch to branch, he jumped straightonto his master's shoulders and hid himself inside his coat.

  It was a great thing to have found Pretty-Heart, but that was not all.Now we had to look for the dogs.

  It was day now and easy for us to see what had happened. In the snow weread the death of our dogs. We followed their footprints for thirtyyards. They had come out of the hut, one behind the other, Dulciefollowing Zerbino. Then we saw other footprints. On one side there weresigns of a struggle where the wolves had sprung upon the dogs, and onthe other sides were the footprints of the wolves where they trottedoff, carrying their prey with them, to be devoured at their leisure.There was no trace of the dogs except a red trail of blood which hereand there stained the snow.

  The two poor dogs had gone to their death while I slept!

  We had to get busy as quickly as possible with warming Pretty-Heart. Wehurried back to the hut. While Vitalis held out the little creature'sfeet and hands to the fire, as o
ne holds a tiny baby, I warmed hiscoverlets and we rolled him up in them. But he needed more than thecoverlets; he needed a warm drink. My master and I sat by the fire,silent, watching the wood burn.

  "Poor Zerbino; poor Dulcie!"

  Each of us murmured these words; first he, then I.

  The dogs had been our friends, our companions, in good and bad fortune,and to me in my loneliness they had meant so much. How deeply Ireproached myself for not having kept watch. The wolves would not havecome to attack us in our cabin; they would have stayed in the distance,frightened by the fire.

  If only Vitalis would have scolded me! I wished that he would beat me.But he said nothing. He did not even look at me. He sat with his headbent over the fire; probably wondering what would become of us withoutthe dogs.