Kitabı oku: «Tessa, Our Little Italian Cousin», sayfa 2

"My father came with us to the city to-day. He said you wished to see us," Beppo grew bold enough to say when a pleasant-faced gentleman opened the door. "He will call for us again to-night."

"Come in, little ones," the gentleman answered in Italian. "I am glad you are here. This is Beppo, I believe. I have seen you before. And here is the little sister. How do you do, my child? Make yourselves quite at home in these easy chairs."

While he was speaking to the children he was thinking, "How beautiful the little girl is! She will do finely. The two will make a great picture. My own children must see them."

Then he went on talking with Tessa. He showed her some curiosities and she soon forgot her bashfulness. But it was a long day. To be sure, the children had a delicious lunch which a servant brought up to the studio. The kind artist insisted they should not touch the food they had brought with them from home.

But after all, it was very tiresome to sit quite still for half an hour at a time. And all the while the strange gentleman's eyes were fixed on them while his hand was busy with the brush.

"This is just a sketch to-day, children. After this, I shall need only one of you at a time. But I like to have you come together, nevertheless. And now your work is over for the day.

"Pretty hard not to move about freely, little one, isn't it?" he said, as he patted Tessa on the chin. Then he rang the bell and told the servant to call his own children up to the studio. He would not have done this if he had not seen that his young models were unlike many of the poor children of the city.

"They are gentle and polite, if they are peasants," he said to himself. "My wife will be pleased, for Lucy and Arthur are lonesome and need some playmates of their own age."

A moment afterward merry voices were heard and the Gray children came skipping into the room.

"They are certainly angels," Tessa said to herself when she saw the golden curls of Lucy and the fair, sweet faces of her brother and herself. But she could not tell what they said, for they spoke in a strange tongue.

"It is not soft like our own dear Italian," she whispered to Beppo. "It is hard, this American language."

"They call it English, and not American," her brother answered. "I am going to learn it sometime, myself."

The artist turned from them to his own children. He spoke in Italian. "Lucy and Arthur are just beginning to speak your tongue, Tessa, but they learn fast. They wish to know you and Beppo. I told them you were coming. They would like to play with you, but as yet they cannot talk much Italian. It is an hour yet before your father will come for you. Would you like to go down into the garden and walk among the flowers for a little while?"

Tessa's eyes sparkled with delight, and her heart beat quite fast when Lucy stretched out her white hand and held fast her own brown one.

"Come, Tessa and Beppo," said Arthur, who now spoke to his young visitors for the first time. "Come, and I will show you the garden."

The four children left the studio and ran down the great staircase. They did not stop until they found themselves on the ground floor. Then they passed out through a wide doorway into the courtyard.

Tessa held her breath with delight.

"Beppo, Beppo, look at that fountain," she cried. "And see the lovely cherub with its wings spread."

Lucy understood the words and she was pleased.

"The prince owns this court," she said, "but he has told father that we may come here and bring our friends when we like. Let us go into the gardens beyond."

The little Italians had hardly time to notice the statues and the beautiful plants before they were led into the great garden.

Here were orange-trees loaded with the yellow fruit. There were beds of flowers in bloom, although it was late in November. Beyond, were stone walls over which delicate vines were creeping, and marble statues were half hidden in the niches.

"There is a lizard," cried Arthur. "Don't you see him creeping along that stone wall? He's a little fellow, but, oh, my, he's quick in his motions."

"Listen!" said Beppo, who had forgotten his shyness now. "I will charm him. But you must all keep still."

He gave a long, low whistle. The lizard, which had crept into a hole, raised his head and looked toward the children in delight, as he drew himself to the top of the wall and lay quite still.

Again Beppo whistled in the same way, and the lizard crept nearer. And now he stretched himself at length upon the walk at Beppo's feet.

"I could keep him charmed like that all day long," said the boy. "It is queer, isn't it? Did you ever notice a lizard's feet?"

"What do you mean? The odd way the toes swell out on the edges?" Arthur asked.

"Yes. That is why the creature can walk across the ceiling like a fly. But it isn't the only reason, for a sticky substance oozes out, and that helps his feet to fasten themselves. I've seen them do it many times."

"I wonder how they make that queer noise," said Lucy.

"They smack their tongues back in their mouths, somehow," answered Beppo. "They are ugly little things, aren't they? But mother won't let me kill them when they get in the house, because they eat up the flies and spiders."

The children were walking now between two rows of laurel-trees.

"How dark and glossy the leaves are," said Lucy. "I think they are lovely. I like to get them and make wreaths. Then I take them up-stairs and put them on father's and mother's heads. I pretend I am crowning them as the heroes in Italy were crowned long ago." Lucy forgot her Italian and fell into English before she had half finished. It was no wonder that Tessa and Beppo could not understand.

Arthur saw the puzzled look in their faces and tried to explain. He was older than his sister and could speak Italian better than she.

"Lucy means this: I suppose you know that your country was once very great."

Beppo nodded his head. Oh, yes, and he believed it to be very great, still.

"And Rome was the leading city in the whole wide world," Arthur went on. "Great deeds were done by her people; great battles were fought; great books were written; great palaces were built. Well, in the olden times, whenever a person had done some truly great thing, he was crowned with a wreath of laurels. Father told me this, so I know it must be true.

"But come, I am afraid your father will be waiting for you. I didn't notice how fast the time was going."

They hurried back to the house. There, to be sure, were Pietro and his master. It had been a fine day. The fruit was all sold for a good price, and their father was eager to hear how the time had passed with his children.

"Oh, babbo, babbo, they were so kind, those good Americans. And I am very happy," said Tessa. She said this softly as she leaned over the donkey's side to pat her father's face while they were on the way home.

"The little girl (her name is Lucy, babbo,) did not seem to notice my bare feet and darned frock. She held my hand a long time, and I know I shall love her."

CHAPTER III
THE STORY OF ÆNEAS

Day after day Tessa and Beppo travelled over the road to Rome with their father. They were always happy, always gentle, always merry.

The artist and his family grew to love the children and wish they could do something to make their lives easier.

"They are so poor," Lucy told her brother one night, "that they eat meat only at great times, like Christmas. It costs too much for them to buy it every day as mother does. But they have plenty of fruit. I think the delicious figs and apricots that grow here in this country make up for a good deal of meat. And their mother makes salads of all kinds of vegetables. Perhaps they don't miss the meat as long as they are not used to eating it as we are."

"How did you know about their food?" asked Lucy's mother, who happened to hear what she said.

"It came about this way, mamma. We were in the kitchen the other day. I wanted to watch the maid cooking over the charcoal flames in that queer stone stove. And Tessa said then she had seen such a big piece of meat roasting for dinner only two or three times in her life. Then we went on talking and she spoke of what she usually had at home. Her mother uses olive oil in almost everything, just as our cook does. I should think it would be better than the lard we have in America, isn't it?"

"Yes, indeed, for it is much more wholesome. It is obtained from olives, you know, instead of the fat of pigs. People would use more of it in America if it did not cost so much by the time it has travelled across the ocean. But I hear your father's footsteps. Let us go and meet him."

The artist was not alone, for Tessa was with him. She was looking much pleased.

"It is raining hard," said Mr. Gray, "and I have just seen Tessa's father and asked him to let her spend the night with us. It is too great a storm for her to go out in. The little girl has done finely for me to-day, and she sat so well that I got along on my picture quite rapidly. So she will dine with us to-night and I will tell you stories in Italian. After that, we will have games."

Lucy ran and put her arms around Tessa's neck.

"What a good time we shall have," she cried. "Father tells lovely stories. Oh, Tessa, I wish you were my own sister."

Tessa turned her big dark eyes to the floor. There were tears in them, but they were tears of gladness. She had never had a cross word spoken to her in her whole life. She had never been punished for any little fault. But her loving little heart had not expected this: that the American child who was always dressed so beautifully, whose parents seemed so rich in her eyes, should wish a sister like her, a peasant girl. She could scarcely believe it.

The dinner seemed a very grand one to Tessa. One surprise was brought in after another. There were four separate courses! Last, came a delicious ice and frosted cakes. It seemed to the little Italian like a feast of the fairies.

After the dinner was over, the family went into the great drawing-room. Rugs were stretched here and there over the marble floor. There were soft couches and odd, spider-legged tables and chairs.

"We don't own the furniture," Lucy told her visitor. "It belongs here in the palace and is the same kind as the prince uses. He lives below us. It is beautiful, father thinks, but he does wish we could be warmer on these cold, windy days. You have very queer stoves in your country, Tessa. You should feel the heat that comes from ours in America." And Lucy held her hands over the jar filled with burning charcoal. It certainly gave the room little extra warmth.

"You look cold," Tessa answered, with her voice full of sympathy. "I do not feel so, though. I suppose it is because I have lived out-of-doors most of my life. But think, we do not have much weather like this, and it will soon be spring."

Yes, it was true. Christmas would be here in a few days, and then, then, the lovely spring would open with its violets, its daisies, and its strawberries.

"Are you ready with your story, father?" asked Lucy, as she perched herself on the arm of his chair. Arthur stretched himself on a rug at his father's feet, and at the same time drew Tessa on her low stool to his side.

"I shall have to be ready, at any rate, I think," her father answered, laughing. "So prepare to listen closely, for I must speak in Italian, that Tessa may understand.

"I wish you to imagine a time of long ago," he went on. "It was before any history was written about this country. There were many different tribes of people who lived along the shores of the rivers and built temples to strange gods. Those people believed in a god of the forest, and others of the ocean, the fruits, and the grains. Festivals were held in their honour.

"After many years, the country became great and powerful. This city was built and ships were sent from it to all parts of the known world. It was at this time also that art and poetry flourished. Sculptors modelled beautiful statues that we count among our greatest treasures to-day. And men wrote great books that you, Lucy and Arthur, will study, by and by.

"One of these writers was Virgil. He wrote in Latin, the language spoken by these people. The soft Italian words in use now are pleasant to the ear, but not as strong and grand as the old Latin tongue."

"Doesn't any one speak in Latin now, father?" asked Lucy.

"No, my dear. But it is studied, and the books written in Latin are read by scholars. Our own English language would be very poor if it had not received a great deal of help from the Latin. In fact, the same thing can be said of nearly every language used in the Western world to-day. But I am afraid you are getting tired. I will go back to my story.

"It was written by the poet Virgil, and tells of the wonderful things that happened to a prince called Æneas. He lived in Troy and was always called the Pious Æneas. This was because he was so good to his old father, and honoured the gods in whom he believed."

"Did he really live, father, or is this only a legend?" asked Arthur.

"We think now it is a legend, but the story is written as if every word were true, and belonged to the real history of Italy. But let me go on with my story.

"Æneas and his people had been conquered in a great battle, and their city was given up to their enemies. The young prince fled in the darkness, carrying his father on his back, and leading his little boy by the hand. His wife followed behind them. The old man carefully held some little images. They must not be left behind or lost, for they represented the gods in whom the Trojans believed and whom they worshipped.

"When they had gone a little way, Æneas found that his wife was no longer following them. What could have happened to her? He looked for her everywhere, but it was of no use. No trace of her could be found, and she was never heard of again.

"When Æneas and his men reached Mount Ida they built some ships and set sail. They would find a new home for themselves."

"But where was their old home, father? You called it Troy," said Lucy.

"Troy was a place in Asia Minor, near the strait with the long name of the Hellespont. This strait separates that part of Asia from Greece, and the rest of Europe. You can easily find it on your map. But remember this, as I go on, – in olden times the ships were small and people knew little about the seas or the great ocean, and seldom went far from home. What you would think of as a short voyage would have seemed a very long one to the people then.

"Many wonderful things happened to Æneas after he left Troy. After a while his provisions gave out, and he landed on the shore of an island to get some food. He found wild goats grazing there, and his men killed some of them. While they were feasting on the flesh of these creatures, the harpies appeared. They had the bodies of birds, but the faces of ugly old women."

Tessa shuddered. "Are there any real harpies?" she asked, eagerly.

"No, no, Tessa. Remember that this is only a legend.

"These horrible bird-hags flew down into the midst of the Trojans and destroyed their dinner. The men shot at them, but the arrows glanced off of the feathers, and not one of the harpies was harmed. Although most of them flew far away, they were very angry. One of them stayed long enough to cry in a harsh voice:

"'You Trojans shall be punished for troubling us. You shall be tossed about on the ocean until you reach Italy, and you shall not build a city for yourselves until you are so hungry that you will be willing to eat the trenchers containing the food.'

"This was what people called a prophecy, and, as Æneas and his men believed in such things, it made them feel far from cheerful.

"He sailed away, however, and came at length to another place, where he found old friends. His cousin, Helenus, who had also been driven away from Troy, was ruling there, and he had built a new city for himself and his comrades.

"Helenus was a prophet, as it seemed, and he told Æneas that after he reached Italy he would find an old white sow with thirty little pigs around her. He must build a city for himself wherever he should find her.

"Æneas had many other adventures after leaving Helenus. Among other things, he met a horrible giant who had lost the sight of his one eye, but was still terrible. After this, the old father of Æneas died, and the son's sad loss was followed by a fearful storm in which the men nearly gave up hope of seeing land again. The ships were driven far to the south.

"After the wind had died down and the waves had grown calmer, the homeless wanderers came to a quiet bay. They landed and found a lovely queen who treated Æneas so kindly that he almost forgot the city he had planned to build in Italy. But after awhile the god Mercury appeared to him and reminded him of his duty.

"He set sail once more, leaving the beautiful queen so unhappy that she killed herself with a sword her visitor had left behind. There were many other adventures, but, at last, Æneas came to the shores of Italy, where he rested in a grove. He and his followers sat around on the grass to eat. They used large, round cakes for plates on which to place the meat. After it was gone, they began to eat the cakes. Then Æneas's little son said: