no! To be repulsed, insulted, humiliated, as he had been a little while ago? No; never, never more—rather would he die! And at this idea, and at the sight of the very long street which was lost in the distance of the boundless plain, he felt his courage desert him once more, flung his bag on the sidewalk, sat down with his back against the wall, and bent his head between his hands, in an attitude of despair.
People jostled him with their feet as they passed; the vehicles filled the road with noise; several boys stopped to look at him. He remained thus for a while. Then he was startled by a voice saying to him in a mixture of Italian and Lombard dialect, “What is the matter, little boy?”
He raised his face at these words, and instantly sprang to his feet, uttering an exclamation of wonder; “You here!”
It was the old Lombard peasant with whom he had struck up a friendship during the voyage.
The amazement of the peasant was no less than his own; but the boy did not leave him time to question him. He rapidly told his story concluding:
“Now I am without a soldo. I must go to work. Find me work, that I may get together a few lire. I will do anything; I will carry rubbish, I will sweep the streets; I can run on errands, or even work in the country; I am content to live on black bread; but only let it be so that I may set out quickly, that I may find my mother once more. Do me this charity, and find me work, find me work, for the love of God, for I can do no more!”
“The deuce you say!” said the peasant, looking
