CHAPTER VI.
The Savoyard looked at me wistfully. I wished to enter into
conversation with him. That was not easy. However, I began.
Pisistratus.--"You must be often hungry enough, my poor boy. Do the
mice feed you?"
Savoyard puts his head on one side, shakes it, and strokes his mice.
Pisistratus.-"You are very fond of the mice; they are your only friends,
I fear."
Savoyard evidently understanding Pisistratus, rubs his face gently
against the mice, then puts them softly down on a grave, and gives a
turn to the hurdy-gurdy. The mice play unconcernedly over the grave.
Pisistratus, pointing first to the beasts, then to the instrument.--
"Which do you like best, the mice or the hurdygurdy?"
Savoyard shows his teeth--considers--stretches himself on the grass-
plays with the mice--and answers volubly. Pisistratus, by the help of
Latin comprehending that the Savoyard says that the mice are alive, and
the hurdy-gurdy is not.--"Yes, a live friend is better than a dead one.
Mortua est hurdy-gurda!"
Savoyard shakes his head vehemently.--"No--no, Eccellenza, non e morta!"
and strikes up a lively air on the slandered instrument. The Savoyard's
face brightens-he looks happy; the mice run from the grave into his
bosom. Pisistratus, affected, and putting the question in Latin.--"Have
you a father?"
Savoyard with his face overcast.--"No, Eccellenza!" then pausing a
little, he says briskly, "Si, si!" and plays a solemn air on the hurdy-
gurdy--stops--rests one hand on the instrument, and raises the other to
heaven.
Pisistratus understands: the father is like the hurdygurdy, at once dead
and living. The mere form is a dead thing, but the music lives.
Pisistratus drops another small piece of silver on the ground, and turns
away.
God help and God bless thee, Savoyard! Thou hast done Pisistratus all
the good in the world. Thou hast corrected the hard wisdom of the young
gentleman in the velveteen jacket; Pisistratus is a better lad for
having stopped to listen to thee.
I regained the entrance to the churchyard, I looked back; there sat the
Savoyard still amidst men's graves, but under God's sky. He was still
looking at me wistfully; and when he caught my eye, he pressed his hand
to his heart and smiled. God help and God bless thee, young Savoyard!
