Nobody's Boy. Hector Malot
put his hands on my shoulders and forced me to look round.
"You goose," he cried, still laughing, "look up and see it."
His laugh, more than his words, brought me to my senses. I opened one eye, then the other, and looked where he was pointing. The apparition, which had so frightened me, had stopped and was standing still in the road. At the sight of it again, I must confess, I began to shake, but I was with Vitalis and the dogs were beside me. I was not alone up there in the trees. … I looked up boldly and fixed my eyes on the Thing.
Was it an animal or a man? It had the body, the head, and arms like a man, but the shaggy skin which covered it, and the two long thin legs upon which it seemed to poise, looked as though they belonged to an animal.
Although the night was dark, I could see this, for the silhouette of this dark form stood out against the starry sky. I should have remained a long time undecided as to what it was, if my master had not spoken to it.
"Can you tell me if we are far from the village?" he asked, politely.
He was a man, then, if one could speak to him! What was my astonishment when the animal said that there were no houses near, but an inn to which he would take us. If he could talk, why did he have paws?
If I had had the courage, I would have gone up to him to see how his paws were made, but I was still somewhat afraid, so I picked up my bag and followed my master, without saying a word.
"You see now what scared you so," Vitalis said, laughing, as we went on our way.
"But I don't know what it is, yet. Are there giants in this part of the country, then?"
"Yes, when men are standing on stilts."
Then he explained to me that the Landais, so as to get over the marshy plains, and not sink in up to their hips, stride about the country on stilts.
What a goose I had been!
CHAPTER IX
ARRESTED
I had a pleasant remembrance of Pau, the beautiful winter resort where the wind scarcely ever blew. We stayed there the whole winter, for we were taking in quite a lot of money. Our audience consisted mostly of children, and they were never tired if we did give the same performance over and over again. They were children of the rich, mostly English and American. Fat little boys, with ruddy skins, and pretty little girls with soft eyes almost as beautiful as Dulcie's. It was from these children that I got a taste for candy, for they always came with their pockets stuffed with sweets which they divided between Pretty-Heart, the dogs, and myself. But when the spring approached our audience grew smaller. One by one, two by two, the little ones came to shake hands with Pretty-Heart, Capi, and Dulcie. They had come to say good-by. They were going away. So we also had to leave the beautiful winter resort and take up our wandering life again.
For a long time, I do not know how many days or weeks, we went through valleys, over hills, leaving behind the bluish top of the Pyrenees, which now looked like a mass of clouds.
Then one night we came to a great town with ugly red brick houses and with streets paved with little pointed stones, hard to the feet of travelers who had walked a dozen miles a day. My master told me that we were in Toulouse and that we should stay there for a long time. As usual, the first thing we did was to look about for a suitable place to hold the next day's performance. Suitable places were not lacking, especially near the Botanical Gardens, where there is a beautiful lawn shaded with big trees and a wide avenue leading to it. It was in one of the side walks that we gave our first performance.
A policeman stood by while we arranged our things. He seemed annoyed, either because he did not like dogs, or because he thought we had no business there; he tried to send us away. It would have been better if we had gone. We were not strong enough to hold out against the police, but my master did not think so. Although he was an old man, strolling about the country with his dogs, he was very proud. He considered that as he was not breaking the law, he should have police protection, so when the officer wanted to send us away, he refused to leave.
Vitalis was very polite; in fact he carried his Italian politeness to the extreme. One might have thought that he was addressing some high and mighty personage.
"The illustrious gentleman, who represents the police authority," he said, taking off his hat and bowing low to the policeman, "can he show me an order emanating from the said authority, which states that it is forbidden for poor strolling players, like ourselves, to carry on their humble profession on a public square?"
The policeman replied that he would have no argument. We must obey.
"Certainly," replied Vitalis, "and I promise that I will do as you order as soon as you let me know by what authority you issue it."
That day the officer turned on his heels, and my master, with hat in hand, body bent low, smilingly bowed to the retreating form.
But the next day the representative of the law returned, and jumping over the ropes which inclosed our theater, he sprang into the middle of the performance.
"Muzzle those dogs," he said roughly to Vitalis.
"Muzzle my dogs!"
"It's an order of the law, you ought to know that!"
The spectators began to protest.
"Don't interrupt!"
"Let him finish the show, cop!"
Vitalis then took off his felt hat, and with his plumes sweeping the ground, he made three stately bows to the officer.
"The illustrious gentleman representing the law, does he tell me that I must muzzle my actors?" he asked.
"Yes, and be quick about it!"
"Muzzle Capi, Zerbino, and Dulcie," cried Vitalis, addressing himself more to the audience than to the officer; "how can the great physician, Capi, known throughout the universe, prescribe a cure for Mr. Pretty-Heart, if the said physician wears a muzzle on the end of his nose?"
The children and parents began to laugh. Vitalis encouraged by the applause, continued:
"And how can the charming nurse, Dulcie, use her eloquence to persuade the patient to take the horrible medicine which is to relieve him of his pains if I am forced to carry out this cruel order of the law? I ask the audience if this is fair?"
The clapping of hands and shouts of laughter from the onlookers was answer enough. They cheered Vitalis and hooted the policeman and, above all, they were amused at the grimaces Pretty-Heart was making. He had taken his place behind the "illustrious gentleman who represented the law," and was making ridiculous grimaces behind his back. The officer crossed his arms, then uncrossed them and stuck his fists on his hips and threw back his head, so did the monkey. The onlookers screamed with laughter.
The officer turned round suddenly to see what amused them, and saw the monkey striking his own attitude to perfection. For some moments the monkey and the man stared at each other. It was a question which would lower his eyes first. The crowd yelled with delight.
"If your dogs are not muzzled to-morrow," cried the policeman, angrily shaking his first, "you'll be arrested. That's all."
"Good-day, until to-morrow, Signor," said Vitalis, bowing, "until to-morrow. … "
As the officer strode away, Vitalis stood with his body almost bent to the ground in mock respect.
I thought that he would buy some muzzles for the dogs, but he did nothing of the kind, and the evening passed without him even mentioning his quarrel with the policeman.