said the doctor. But that was not possible, and poor Rosina covered her head with her ap.r.o.n and felt a guilty creature.
"Still, you will not go to the army," she said to Ta.s.so. Clinging to that immense joy for her consolation. "Only think! we can pay Guido Squarcione to go for you. He always said he would go if anybody would pay him. Oh, my Ta.s.so, surely to keep you is worth a dog"s life!"
"And Lolo"s?" said Ta.s.so, gloomily. "Nay, mother, it works ill to meddle too much with fate. I drew my number; I was bound to go. Heaven would have made it up to you somehow."
"Heaven sent me the foreigner; the Madonna"s own self sent him to ease a mother"s pain," said Rosina, rapidly and angrily. "There are the thousand francs safe to hand in the _ca.s.sone_, and what, pray, is it we miss? Only a dog like a sheep, that brought gallons of mud in with him every time it rained, and ate as much as any one of you."
"But Lolo?" said Ta.s.so, under his breath.
His mother was so irritated and so tormented by her own conscience that she upset all the cabbage broth into the burning charcoal.
"Lolo was always a little fool, thinking of nothing but the church and the dog and nasty field-flowers," she said, angrily. "I humored him ever too much because of the hurt to his hip, and so--and so--"
Then the poor soul made matters worse by dropping her tears into the saucepan, and fanning the charcoal so furiously that the flame caught her fan of cane-leaves, and would have burned her arm had not Ta.s.so been there.
"You are my prop and safety always. Who would not have done what I did?
Not Santa Felicita herself," she said, with a great sob.
But all this did not cure poor Lolo.
The days and the weeks of the golden autumn weather pa.s.sed away, and he was always in danger, and the small close room where he slept with Sandro and Beppo and Ta.s.so was not one to cure such an illness as had now beset him. Ta.s.so went to his work with a sick heart in the Cascine, where the colchic.u.m was all lilac among the meadow gra.s.s, and the ashes and elms were taking their first flush of the coming autumnal change. He did not think Lolo would ever get well, and the good lad felt as if he had been the murderer of his little brother.
True, he had had no hand or voice in the sale of Moufflou, but Moufflou had been sold for his sake. It made him feel half guilty, very unhappy, quite unworthy of all the sacrifice that had been made for him. "n.o.body should meddle with fate," thought Ta.s.so, who knew his grandfather had died in San Bonifazio because he had driven himself mad over the dream-book trying to get lucky numbers for the lottery and become a rich man at a stroke.
It was rapture, indeed, to know that he was free of the army for a time at least, that he might go on undisturbed at his healthful labor, and get a rise in wages as time went on, and dwell in peace with his family, and perhaps--perhaps in time earn enough to marry pretty flaxen-haired Biondina, the daughter of the barber in the piazzetta. It was rapture indeed; but then poor Moufflou!--and poor, poor Lolo! Ta.s.so felt as if he had bought his own exemption by seeing his little brother and the good dog torn in pieces and buried alive for his service.
And where was poor Moufflou?
Gone far away somewhere south in the hurrying, screeching, vomiting, braying train it made Ta.s.so giddy only to look at as it rushed by the green meadows beyond the Cascine on its way to the sea.
"If he could see the dog he cries so for, it might save him," said the doctor, who stood with grave face watching Lolo.
But that was beyond any one"s power. No one could tell where Moufflou was. He might be carried away to England, to France, to Russia, to America,--who could say? They did not know where his purchaser had gone.
Moufflou even might be dead.
The poor mother, when the doctor said that, went and looked at the ten hundred-franc notes that were once like angels" faces to her, and said to them,--
"Oh, you children of Satan, why did you tempt me? I sold the poor, innocent, trustful beast to get you, and now my child is dying!"
Her eldest son would stay at home, indeed; but if this little lame one died! Rosina Calabucci would have given up the notes and consented never to own five francs in her life if only she could have gone back over the time and kept Moufflou, and seen his little master running out with him into the sunshine.
More than a month went by, and Lolo lay in the same state, his yellow hair shorn, his eyes dilated and yet stupid, life kept in him by a spoonful of milk, a lump of ice, a drink of lemon-water; always muttering, when he spoke at all, "Moufflou, Moufflou, _dov" e_ Moufflou?" and lying for days together in somnolence and unconsciousness, with the fire eating at his brain and the weight lying on it like a stone.
The neighbors were kind, and brought fruit and the like, and sat up with him, and chattered so all at once in one continuous brawl that they were enough in themselves to kill him, for such is ever the Italian fashion of sympathy in all illness.
But Lolo did not get well, did not even seem to see the light at all, or to distinguish any sounds around him; and the doctor in plain words told Rosina Calabucci that her little boy must die. Die, and the church so near! She could not believe it. Could St. Mark, and St. George, and the rest that he had loved so do nothing for him? No, said the doctor, they could do nothing; the dog might do something, since the brain had so fastened on that one idea; but then they had sold the dog.
"Yes; I sold him!" said the poor mother, breaking into floods of remorseful tears.
So at last the end drew so nigh that one twilight time the priest came out of the great arched door that is next it. Mark, with the Host uplifted, and a little acolyte ringing the bell before it, and pa.s.sed across the piazzetta, and went up the dark staircase of Rosina"s dwelling, and pa.s.sed through the weeping, terrified children, and went to the bedside of Lolo.
Lolo was unconscious, but the holy man touched his little body and limbs with the sacred oil, and prayed over him, and then stood sorrowful with bowed head.
Lolo had had his first communion in the summer, and in his preparation for it had shown an intelligence and devoutness that had won the priest"s gentle heart.
Standing there, the holy man commended the innocent soul to G.o.d. It was the last service to be rendered to him save that very last of all when the funeral office should be read above his little grave among the millions of nameless dead at the sepulchres of the poor at Trebbiano.
All was still as the priest"s voice ceased; only the sobs of the mother and of the children broke the stillness as they kneeled; the hand of Biondina had stolen into Ta.s.so"s.
Suddenly, there was a loud scuffling noise; hurrying feet came patter, patter, patter up the stairs, a ball of mud and dust flew over the heads of the kneeling figures, fleet as the wind Moufflou dashed through the room and leaped upon the bed.
Lolo opened his heavy eyes, and a sudden light of consciousness gleamed in them like a sunbeam. "Moufflou!" he murmured, in his little thin faint voice. The dog pressed close to his breast and kissed his wasted face.
Moufflou was come home!
And Lolo came home too, for death let go its hold upon him. Little by little, very faintly and flickeringly and very uncertainly at the first, life returned to the poor little body, and reason to the tormented, heated little brain. Moufflou was his physician; Moufflou, who, himself a skeleton under his matted curls, would not stir from his side and looked at him all day long with two beaming brown eyes full of unutterable love.
Lolo was happy; he asked no questions,--was too weak, indeed, even to wonder. He had Moufflou; that was enough.
Alas! though they dared not say so in his hearing, it was not enough for his elders. His mother and Ta.s.so knew that the poodle had been sold and paid for; that they could lay no claim to keep him; and that almost certainly his purchaser would seek him out and a.s.sert his indisputable right to him. And then how would Lolo ever bear that second parting?--Lolo, so weak that he weighed no more than if he had been a little bird.
Moufflou had, no doubt, traveled a long distance and suffered much. He was but skin and bone; he bore the marks of blows and kicks; his once silken hair was all discolored and matted; he had, no doubt, traveled far. But then his purchaser would be sure to ask for him, soon or late, at his old home; and then? Well, then if they did not give him up themselves, the law would make them.
Rosina Calabucci and Ta.s.so, though they dared say nothing before any of the children, felt their hearts in their mouths at every step on the stair, and the first interrogation of Ta.s.so every evening when he came from his work was, "Has any one come for Moufflou?" For ten days no one came, and their first terrors lulled a little.
On the eleventh morning, a feast-day, on which Ta.s.so was not going to his labors in the Cascine, there came a person, with a foreign look, who said the words they so much dreaded to hear: "Has the poodle that you sold to an English gentleman come back to you?"
Yes: his English master claimed him!
The servant said that they had missed the dog in Rome a few days after buying him and taking him there; that he had been searched for in vain, and that his master had thought it possible the animal might have found his way back to his old home: there had been stories of such wonderful sagacity in dogs: anyhow, he had sent for him on the chance; he was himself back on the Lung" Arno. The servant pulled from his pocket a chain, and said his orders were to take the poodle away at once: the little sick gentleman had fretted very much about his loss.
Ta.s.so heard in a very agony of despair. To take Moufflou away now would be to kill Lolo,--Lolo so feeble still, so unable to understand, so pa.s.sionately alive to every sight and sound of Moufflou, lying for hours together motionless with his hand buried in the poodle"s curls, saying nothing, only smiling now and then, and murmuring a word or two in Moufflou"s ear.
"The dog did come home," said Ta.s.so, at length, in a low voice; "angels must have shown him the road, poor beast! From Rome! Only to think of it, from Rome! And he a dumb thing! I tell you he is here, honestly: so will you not trust me just so far as this? Will you let me go with you and speak to the English lord before you take the dog away? I have a little brother sorely ill--"
He could not speak more, for tears that choked his voice.
At last the messenger agreed so far as this: Ta.s.so might go first and see the master, but he would stay here and have a care they did not spirit the dog away,--"for a thousand francs were paid for him," added the man, "and a dog that can come all the way from Rome by itself must be an uncanny creature."
Ta.s.so thanked him, went up-stairs, was thankful that his mother was at ma.s.s and could not dispute with him, took the ten hundred-franc notes from the old oak _ca.s.sone_, and with them in his breast-pocket walked out into the air. He was but a poor working lad, but he had made up his mind to do an heroic act. He went straightway to the hotel where the English _milord_ was, and when he had got there remembered that still he did not know the name of Moufflou"s owner; but the people of the hotel knew him as Rosina Calabucci"s son, and guessed what he wanted, and said the gentleman who had lost the poodle was within, up-stairs, and they would tell him.
Ta.s.so waited some half-hour with his heart beating sorely against the packet of hundred-franc notes. At last he was beckoned up-stairs, and there he saw a foreigner with a mild fair face, and a very lovely lady, and a delicate child who was lying on a couch. "Moufflou! Where is Moufflou?" cried the little child, impatiently, as he saw the youth enter.
Ta.s.so took his hat off, and stood in the door-way an embrowned, healthy, not ungraceful figure, in his working-clothes of rough blue stuff.
"If you please, most ill.u.s.trious," he stammered, "poor Moufflou has come home."
The child gave a cry of delight; the gentleman and lady one of wonder.
Come home! All the way from Rome!