Lucknow Sentinel, 1892-03-11, Page 2•
7.77
"s-- •
BARITONf'S DEVOTION
A TALI] OF SUNNY ITALY.
CHAPTER
• ON .T.p; melee.
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E,4*. iileatAP g1.0" Mar S, tn. be
Wh41.P.I tee well not f•O perceive how
sorely the -events Of the lest few weeks had
• taxed his powers of endurance. It was
all very well for him toe prescribe perfect
quiet when the hours or study were
Aver;; but he knew that at the
kolam Tertr quiet was not likely
tm-he found—.knew that wherever he went
Casio would be haunted by the speotre of
his vanished happiness. Often did he
anathematize Gaptain Britton and the
Insular prejudice which had cost his pupil
4o -dear ; often did he rack his brains for
' some means of cheering the debutant.
„ Carlo was, indeed, very much altered ;
for the time he lost the boyish look which
had always before been one of his character-
istics ; he lost, too, his fresh, ruddy color ;
and, whereas he had hitherto been
habitually gay, and only upon 'Occasion
grave, he was now only cheerful when, by
a deliberate effort of will, he fOrced him-
self to be so. Items not in those first days
of his trouble that he could all at once
attain to the serenity of a perfectly discip-
lined heart. He was human, and he was
very young; the light of his life had gone
out, and he did not always acquiesce in the-
darkness—did not, exoept in rare intervals
of comfort, feel anything but an aching
• void, an unconquerable longing for his own
will to be dope.
• Not being of a self -tormenting nature,
• however, he did mot trouble himself much
about the right or wrong of his feelings ; as
far as possible he ignored them, and wont
- on deliberately with the every -day business
of the life he had chosen. Piale worked his
voice as he dared, and the professor of dee
• clamation taught him all he had the power
to teach; but Carlo, altogether dissatisfied
with the scanty attention paid to acting on
• the operatic stage, studied his characters
• with a minute faithfulness whiph occupied
him even in his times of so-called—leisure ;
he was incessantly studying, incessantly
observing, and, after three weeks of this
sort work, his heart began as it were, to
thaw ; the personal grief which had held it
frost -bound, was softened by the wide love
of the human family, which cannot fail to
be quickened in the heart 'of any one who
truly observes life. For he observe truly
you must sympathize with those you ob-
eeerve and to sympathize with them you
inuselove them and to love them you must
forget yourself'. •Without a deep, living
sympathy the artist surely degenerates into
a species of vivisectionist, for
To be observed when observation is not sym-
.pathy '
Is Just to be tortured.
Carlo soon found the happiness which
females to the worker who is really suited to
his work. He learned to be very grateful
to his newly -chosen profession, for it
brought him hours of forgetfulness; it
%raised him above the atmosphere of petty
- ;misery which seemed to prevail at the
Palazzo Forti ; it made him conscious that
he had not chosen his life with headstrong
blindness, but that he had gifts for which
• he was responsible ---gifts which made the
•life of a singer his true vocation. In those
days of his trouble he worked with all his
might, and the tremendous effort of memory
:he had to make stood hint in good stead,
and forced him to keep his grief at arm's
length.
Piale saw with relief •that he was appar-
ently not in the least nervous, that he was
entirely. free at present from all fear of
•failureelmt the old maestro was too experi-
enced a hand to imagine that his calmness
would last.
"You go to your ordeal withabetter heart
than most debutante," he remarked one
day, looking curiously into the face of his
pupil. "But you have good reason to be
cheerful about it, for you are safe to be
popular."
"Os the contrary," said Carlo," with a
smile, " I am told that ten to one Comerio
will organize a claque, and try, to get me
hissed off. I'm not at all confident of being
-popular, but I kno* that I have in any
case to be a singer."
"There speaks the true artist," said
Piale, with enthusiasm. "Did I not tell
you lone ago that Nature meant this for
your calling ?"
" Yes, dear maestro," he replied, quietly.
"And you were right, and I was wrong, as
events have proved."
Piale hardly understood all that he
meant; he, looked at him again With the
lingering, scrutinizing, anxious gaze of a
painter who takes &last look at a finished
picture.
"If only your health is equal to the life,"
he exclaimed, with a sigh, for he could not
but admit to himself that during the last
few weeks there had developed in his pupil's
face a look of constitutional delicacy, which,
after all; was a natural enough inheritance
to the son of 'ignore' Donati.
But Carlo laughed lightly, and put the
(suggestion aside.
" Why, maestro," he exclaimed, "1 have
never been ill in my, life; and surely, if
• my sister has been able to bear the work all
for me, you need not fear for a tough
fellow like nie !"
"Well, I hope you will understand as well
as Madame Merlino how. to take care of
yourself," said. Piale, in the tone of a
doubter.
Sardoni watched him on his return with
the greatest curiosity ; he practiced his
scales for half an hour, dined coinposedly,
read the Pirroloi played "Tombola " with
Gigi, and did his beat to avert a quarrel
which was brewing between Gomel end
Merlino. Finally he went off to the theatre
with Piale and Enrico Ritter, and seemed
to be to ridich occupied with cheering the
old maestro, who was in a pitiable state of
,neryousuess that he had little time t
of himself.
44 The dresser 'began. -to urge hien
quick, for es usuatidardooi wasleehin
and had allowedhlearely time tve a
int#,Ins ornp1ieaio4..dQLLbI
theeall-boy'camelo .
wh did not appeax; till $he • • • •
,ifl haw .loatiterae wer_eie'aele PitYie
Atefigee'-"Weiilt j?irt12
Sardoui swore at him, offered hel
won the gratitude -both of the Engl
and the Italian.
"Now if I had Gomez in here he would
have made --confusion worse confounded,"-
Pad Sardoni, rushing off in response to a
o think and Siebel, while to Piale and Ertrico,
the theatre, and to Nita, at the winge,ther
to be canesaAeang, as Valentino told how he-wa
dhand,
cramble
cesturee before
him. Citele,-
d act See -
_se the
e more
p, and
ishman
SeeePainfinrOOlen,S fgOec PhiOg . newts
Oat4110 overture wakeecketiev' ' ' 4eS:tieL3
at
a;TAVP:4114t170'4nreaZin
4#4.e04rticv, • . •
pander a brave enough front," said
Sardoni. e, "I ahead iect have thought you
would prove eneh a cool and."
4;4, well! it is the first battle of the
cainpaign," said Carlo, with a laugh. "Let
no man boast till he has been under fire."
"Per Dio ! no battle, but a triumph" said
the dresser, as he left the room. pest
wishes for your success, signor."
Carlo thanked him, and began in a practi-
cal, matter-of-fact way- to study the con-
struction, of the sword which had to break
in two at the challenge of Mephistopheles.
Sardoni, to amusehim, told him stories of
various stage contretemps, and was just mar-
veling at his companion's perfect composure
when Donati suddenly started forward and
grasped his arm.
"They have begun the Kermesse
Chorus !" he gasped. ,
And then at last the realizetion broke
upon him ; he was, after all, Carlo Douai,
a novice, with a terrible ordeal ,before him,
and failure would mean ruin. All recollec-
tion of his part seemed to leave hint. He
looked distracted.
"Come and wait at the wings," said Sar-
doni, "and take a look at the audience.
You.are sure to' do well. Keep up yieur
courage, gmico mio."
" it were only fame which depended on
it, or only myself —" he faltered ; " but
to fail means the ruin of our plan."
"You will not fail—you will succeed, and
your plan, too; it deserves to. Come !"
With kindly persistence he took his aim
and drew him towards the door. The noise
without seemed • to bewilder Carlo ; the
orchestra, even at that distance, sounded
deafeningly loud in his ears ; the clear,
joyous Onerous of the citizens seemed to
mock his wretchedness; he dragged hien
self on in obedience to Sardoni, who took
him to the green -room, -where they 'found
Anita and Marline. • Nita was crying, and
wiping away her tears with anxious care
lest they should make tOo much havoc with
her rouge.e,
' " Heresis zoy wife More upset over your
debut than she was over her own " said
Merlino, more pleasantly than Ca;lo had
ever heard him speak before.
Nita; see what a, fine figure he cuts as
Valentino. You may well be proud of
him." _ „ _
• Carlo glanced down at her, vaguely notic-
ing her white dress, her long plaited, hair.
She did not 'make up well as Margherita,
and he dreaded acting with her because she
recalled to him the terrible stake for which
he was playing. •
"Give me yourgood wishes, Nina mia," he
said; and then disgusted to find how his
Voice trembled, turned a.wayand followed
Sardoni to the wings. Sick and dizzy, he
looked out across the crowded stege With its
skilfully -grouped iers and students and
citizens to the sec of the house which
could be seen. His breath' came in short,
quiek gasps, and his fingers played nerv-
ously with his sword -hilt. Sardoni felt in-
tensely curious to see how ho would get
througlehis task.
" 11-estier Divin Mestier "
shouted the steadiers, and Carlo's, fingers
tightened on the 'sword. He became at 'last
able to think of nothing but that the chorus
was drawing hearer and nearer to an end,
and that at the close would come that dead
silence in which he, Carlo Donati, must
cross the etage and either fail or succeed.
His dresser approached him.
"The charm, signor! You have it all
right ?"
I have it, thank you," he replied, and
unclasped his hand, where the medal burned
like fire.
"It will soon be over," said Sardoni,
cheerfully.
"1 know,' he gasped, his lips almost
refusing to frame the words.
" Oh, ' said Sardoni "Imeant the ordeal,
not the chorus. Look' to your goal ; that's
the only way with a high jump or with this
sort of business."
It was all very well to talk of looking to
the goal, but just then Carlo was hardly
able to see with his bodily eyes, much less
with the eyes of his imagination. The
crowded stage became misty and confused
to him; he could no longer distingaish the
faces in • the audience ; they' were- just a
terrible, criticising, -impersonal mass.
" !mail sara 1" sang the sopranos.
" primo apparir 1" •roared the basses.
And then came the mocking strain once
more from the orchestra as the concluding
bars of the chorus were played.; and, all his
life long that sweet, blithe air seemed to
Carlo like the merriment of Punchinello the
clown, who jested with an aching heart.
'The last chord crashed hia hour was
come ! With a supreme effort lie moved
fei ward, and, as the opening bars of his
recitative were played, walked mechania
cally through the little lane which opened
for him in the stage crowd. He believed
that he must have walked slovely, but his
feet seemed no longer his own ; he felt as if
he ,were nothing but throbbing heart and
bounding pulses, and it was only from -force
of habit, aftor so many rehearsals, that he
moved to the right place his eyes fixed on
the medal in his hand, Which in reality he
war too much dazzled even to see.
Suddenly an inspiration came to him.
Valentino, to, would be oppressed,
troubled, by the nierreamaking crowd;
what did he, with his grief and anxiety,
want with all this publicity? He was
Valentino—he breathed, thought, looked
and felt lihe Valentino ; and in a voice sub-
dued and sad, but so clear and sweet that it
reached to the remotest -corner of the
gallery, he sang the brief recitative, " Oh,
Santa Aredaglia !" as he placed the charm
on his heart, then glanced quickly,
distastefully, at the gay thteing surrounding
him.
There was a buret of applause which in-
stantly hied° him feel en rapport with his
audience. He advabced ese meet Wagner
the series of -representations, had stud'
e herd, appearing as Rigoletto as
Rodolpho,, as P unkettoe as Guillaum
as Enrico, as Figaro in the "Bar
as the Conte di Lima, and twice in
'write eheracter of Valentino. It wa
feeling`of deep regret that, on the
AireSreeoalftette%,:tnn-tatiN-c-waraoullb4L11,eb-"
he should again sing to an awl**
fellow -citizens.
• "Gigi," he said. "I am going to Po
to -day. Will you come with me ?"
Gigi sprung to hiafeet and executed
mut of ecstatic delight.
An houreor two later they had re
the familiar little town, with its dome
campaniles, its irregular white hems
groups of antiquity -sellers, and its
quiet, picturesmie decay. Carlo wan
through the Well-known streets, f
like a ghost returned tor its old home.
Everynow and then he would be stO
by some paseerby, and questioned and
gratulated, but the return rnade him r
more than he had yet done how entire
had eeparated hinaself from the past.
was crazy to see the boat -building,
they stood for some time on the beac
the very place that had been Carlo's fair
haunt as a boy ; then they made their
to the Villa Bruno, and wandered abo
the garden, and finally went to the hou
ask for some water for Gigi.
"1 made Sure you were the co
signor," said the peasant in charge.
said he should be coining to see the
again to -day."
"What count ?" asked Carlo quickly
"Count Carossa, signor. has
twice to see the villa, and they say
Sure to take it now."
Carlo knitted his brows.
Why did Count Caro'ssa choose to s
down in so out-of-the-way a place? I
wanted a summer -house, why did he
choose one at Portici or Posilipo ?
then, like lightning, there flashed thro
his mind the recollection of the cou
eagerness to know Captain Britton, of
prompt acCeptance of eke invitation to
at Casa Bela, of his evident adnairatio
Francesca. Even at the time he had w
lered.sorrowfully whether Captain Britt
atience would long prefer the -claims o
oor and absent, lover to the imports:alit
be dozens of wealthy suitors who wo
oubtless besiege him with -offers tor
aughter's hand.
"San Cerlo—San Carlo !" shouted G
eitring up the path toward him. "
aught it at last—just you see !"
His rosy face beamed with happiness,
yes shone, and in his fat little brown h
e clasped the white butterfly.
"A souvenir of a happy day and the fi
utterfly for our .collection " said Car
hewing Oigi how to dispose his treasure
ne of the orthodox little boxes,
The Child threw his arms round his ne
"1 loveyou so ! " exclaimed: " Th
as no collections or treats, or anyth
ce at all till you came."
Before lung, Gigi discovered that he w
ngry as. well as thirsty: They h
aaidered along the.deserted Baja, shore.
arch of more butterflies and the en
ace where food was to be had was t
tie Hotel de la Reine, to which they a
rdingly repaired, Gigi sturdily clirxibi
e outside staircase, and entranced to fi
number of peasants seated at the inn tal
the one available room. It was a fest
ey all seemed very merry, and though ti
ild could hardly underitand their dialec
liked to watch them; and,
ough it made Carlo feel, more thhn an
ng had yet done, that his home was 1
ed gone, this visit to -the wayside inn w
t a little amusing to him, The breakfa
elf was odd enough to make him laug
st ca.nie some dubious -looking oyster
th the Lecrine Lake, aeed a long roll (
r bread of quite a venerable age. The
le a dish of eels and spigali—the latte
ay. eatable ; this was followed b
ccaroni mashed with tomatoes, wine
s quite beyond Gigi's fastidious America
ate e and, to crown all, there arrived a
elet soaked in ruin, and a dishful of ver
n snow to cool thee/demi.
I guess it's the qecerest breakfast
r had," said Gigi, ea the close.
It is our last , in Italy," said Carlo
ome, let us drink to our return " ;
an
hingly he clinked glasses with th
d, and pushing the flask of chiant
ard the peasants, begged them to share
Then,, to Gigi's delight, everyone
ked glasses, and all the peasants were
r to drink with San Carlo and there
much bowing and smiling and good
wship as he' had never before seen.
rward, 'amid much laughter, some game
begun, and Gigi, seeing that they all
ed to be counting their fingers, thrust
his brown little hand, to the amusement
I present.
sad beeause he was leaving his sister, who
had now no other protector; and to many
of the eudience it was comprehensible that
*anew baritone's "nice tilionld tremble as
he uttered the weeds, "Nire madre pin!
nlY4'10 v 4
y e aethe elympathies of the
aa.a. ..eas -
helm, but e test of his succeiis would be
in the song, " Dio Possente," and for this
Piale waited in trembling expectation. He
need not have feared, however. Not one
of the audience had ever heard anything to
equal the devotional fervor of the prayer
for Margherita's safe -keeping, or the newly
tnittiteree Of inertial ardor succeeding it ;
the song; 'both ifonueptOP 4114 041,3.4*-
ing, was perfect; and hbe audience,
which would not have scrupled mercileetfily
to his him had he pot altogether pleased
them, broke into itpplause so enthusiastic
that Pialehardly knew whether to laugh or
to cry, so great was his emotion. The song
was vehemently encored, and Carlo's reputa-
tion was established.
Even when he was not,singing his was the
figure upon which all eyes rested, for he was
the one man on the stage who was actually
living his part • while, in the scene where
he drove back Mephistopheles with hisoross,
handled sword uplifted, and sheltered the
retreat of the soldiers, his impassioned
assurance -that the, cross was all-powerful
against evil stirred every heart.
"That is a piece of synibolism quite after
Carlo's fancy," remarked Enrico. Ritter.
But for once he did not grumble at the
attack on his beloved theory of egoism. lie
joined in the tumult of applause ; and
when, at the close of the act, the new bari-
tone was called again and again before the
curtain, Enrico felt a thrill of pleasure
which he did not take the trouble to
analyze.
Meanwhile, Carlo was like a different
being; he knew that he had truly found his
vocation. The music the success, the ap-
plause had excited him to the highest pitch,
and the sympathy he met with from every
one astonished him. Only Gomez held
sulkily aloof and said not a word, but the
rest were warm in their congratulations.
Merlino, with the triumphant sense of hav-
ing secured a first-rate singer at an un-
usually small salary, was quite benevolent
and fatherly; while, perhaps, Domenica
Borolli's words pleased him More than all.
" You are the first real actor I have ever
sung with, signor," she said, in her grave,
low voice. • " You have taught Inc much
to -night" •
Piale was at lait persuaded to return to
his place in the audience; and, as Sardoni
was pretty' constantly on the stage, Carlo,
was left to himself during his rather long
waiting time. He was glad to be alone ; he
wanted tirne to realize the great happiness
which was still left for him in his darkened
ife. The sense of having given pleasure
to those hundreds, Of -people was in its
novelty almost overpowering; and yet, in
all his excitement and happiness there was
an undercurrent of fear, which, made him
'again and again repeat the words, "Not
only with our lips, but in our lives." '
Once More his acting carried all before it.
The pathos of his happy ignorance, his eager
welcome of Siebel, and his breathless in-
quiry for Margherita, his utter absence of
suspicion, and his martial enthusiasm, ap-
pealed to every one. • Then, when at ,last
Siebel contrived to hint to him 'that
all was not well, his agony Of suspense as
he questioned the boy, and his grief and de-
spair when he learned all the truth, though
it:could be Conveyed alone by leek and ges-
ture, moved the people to tears.
• Merlino's creditable rendering of the
" Serenata " received loss notice than might
have been,expected • hut the audience were
eagerly awaiting the reappearance of the
• qebutant, and the passionate indignation
of his meeting with nest and
Mephistopheles seemed to stir all hearts.
Other 'baritones had sung Gounod's Music
well, but this man not only sang magnifi-
cently, but transformed himself into Valen-
tino, giving them by his genuine dramatic
talent such a notion of the character as they
never had before, and out of a compara-
tively small part creating the chief interest
of the opera. Breathlessly they watched
the duel, which, for once, seemed real and
life -like. The avenger had the sympathies
of the house, and when, mortally wounded,
he staggered to his feet again in pursuit of
his foe only to fall a second time, there were
few dry eyesdn the theatre, for into the
mere dumb action he had infused a rare
pathos; and had made them understand the
strong, vitality that yet lingered in the
dying soldier.
Feeling much more like 'Valentino' ghost
than like himself, he went forward again
and again to receive the plaudits Of the
people; then, warned by Merlitto that he
would certainly be called for at the close of
the opera, he flung on his own hat and cloak
over the Valentino costume, and with an
irresistible craving for fresh air and dark-
ness, rushed freno the theatre. At the stage
door he encountered Piale and old Flores -
tante:
"Why, my friend "he exclaimed, turn-
ing to the fisherman, "you will miss the
best part ef the opera."
"It's naught to me now, signor," said
the old man ; "it ended for me at your
death. I'll take My boat at the Piliero and
be starting home."
"1 will -walk part of the way With you,"
said Carlo.
And with, Piale on his other side, he
strode along, drinking down deep breathe
of the cool nieht air, and realizing with a
relief inderieribable that the horrors that he
had been living through were, after all, not
real.
Next afternoon, when by sober daylight
he read the accounts of his first appearance
in Enrico's office,"his friend, with a cynical
smile, exclaimed " Your - head will be
turned with all this triumph."
And then suddenly there flashed upon
Carlo the vision of what he had forfeited.
He was too simple -hearted, too genuinely
honest, not to enjoy to the full his artistia
fleecy:48.e but he thought to himself there
was not much fear that the man who had
lost Francesca 13ritton would be &Med by
such delights as public approval can bring.
• CHAPTER XVII. . •
^
A FAREWELL.
re,2)
is fa-
gi with
mesa-
pke toe
e*,e-
of Us,
zzuoli
a pas
ached
s and
es, its
air of
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eeling
pped
con-
ealize
ly he
Gigi
and
h, in
orite
way
ut in
se to
unt,
He
place
been
he is
ettie
f he
not
And
ugh
nt's
his
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On -
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uld
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igi,
Pve
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and
rst
lo,
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ck.
ere
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as
ad
in
ly
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le
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as
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hu
se
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lit
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a
in
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ch
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th
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de
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its
Fir
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sou
• can
• fait
ma
wa
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om
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eve
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laug
tow
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eCaligne
was
fello
Afte
was
seem
out
of al
What is it ? Whatever are they going ?"
he asked, laughing delightedly, just because
every one else laughed.
" What! don't you know how to play
mora ?" exclaimed Carlo.; "you. shall be
be initiated. With your permission, ladies
and gentlemen, we will join your game !"
And so they did, and Carlo's enjoyment
of the very mild diversion would certainly
have surprised any onlooker who knew his
story.
While they had been eating, a shabby-
.
looking fellow with a guitar had been play.
ing to them, and a Innigry-eyed boy of 15
had sung in a hard, tired, monotonous
voice, one after another of the _familiar
songs of the country. a
A sudden impulse seized Carlo, perhaps
the doleful, unmelodious voice annoyed him
—perhaps he only yielded to his natural
love of giving pleasure but suddenly he
sprung up, motioned to the musicians to
take his place and finish the rhianti,. and,
taking the guitar, burst forth into one 'of
his favorite national songs.
The host and hostess came running into
the rootn to listen. It was whispered from
one , to another that the 'singer was none
other than Signor Donati, the famoua hew
baritone, and the merry peasants listened
entraneed. At the close there was quite- a
babel of thanks and applause:
" My friends," said Carlo, " to'.moreow I
leave Italy, and I have a great wish to hear
once inore Garibaldi's hymn sung as I know
you can sing it—will you join in the
refrain ?" •
•• w
The summer season at the Mercadante excite(
was over, Piale and Merlino were well satis- He
fled with its result, and the Neapolitans and th
talked of little else but their new baritone. I hymn,
They were justly proud of him, and grum- • women
bled sorely on learning thet he was lo leave the cho
them for all indefinite tirn. Carlo durin
e will ! wewill !” Cried the pea.sants,
struelt a few chords on the guitar,
en broke out into the soubstirring
and with ono accord the men and
sprung to their feet and joined in
rus.
not at all understanding wlis..t_
(1g1,
was that eioited every one so much, slid --,
down from his place ,at the Jong table and
stood looking.' ente pf the openewindow
aestanas. the Bay of Baja, then glanced back
into the room as once more the, peasants
shouted the refrain. He wondered what it
could be that moved them so much,
wonders# why San Varlo's eyes shone with
sio-000-Volight; arid—Wlirthere-wastuch-a- — -
funny thrill in his voice as he Bang the final
veige of the song—a thrill, which eent a
sort of indescribable tingle through the
ecyheilsd.'s veins and made the tears start to his
"What was it all about ?" he asked, as,
after a chorus of farewells semi thanks and
,good wishes from the peasaine, Carlo took
his hand and led him away from the little
inn. "What could it have been about,
San Carlo, that you should all look eo
eager V
"It was about La Patria," timid Oarlo,
gravely.
: "Then that is why it Made me tingle so,"
said Gigi, with a pleased look on his comi-
cal little facie. "1 really am Italian,
though Signor Sardoni will call me e little
Yankee. They was Yankees at Salem, and
Ldon't want now to go back to Salem. /
mean to be an Italian always, and stop with
you."
Slowly they wandered back to Pozzuoli,
passing through the familiar piazza, pausing
beside the fountain under the trees to speak
to the philosophical -looking lame beggar,
who had been a boy with Carlo, and was
now eager in his congratulations. Then .
they made their way to the cemetery,. that
Carlo might visit the grave of his father
and mother for the last time, and place
upon it some of the wreaths and flowers he
had recei ed at the Mercada,nte. Gigi took
" I do so like cemeteides ; I think they
(iw
much int rest in this, and connected no sad
thoughts(with the graveyard.
are such lovely places," he said happily.
And as they walked, between the graves. he
trotted along, contentedly • chanting to
hiniself, the retrain of a game which he had
learned in Ameiica. "Here we come
gathering nuts 1 n May," so that Carlo could •
not help tending, even in the midst of his
sadness. ,
" There is one more pilgrimage I must
make," he said, as he drove back to Naples,
" aria you shall come with me, little one—
you sha.11 not leave Italy without seeing
Carlo Poerio's cap and blouse.'?
" Who was he—a saint !" asked Gigi.
"Ile Wile a patriot, one who hived his
country and suffered for it. And they shut
him up in prison for years and years and
treated him cruelly, arid would have killed
him had they dared, only the people loved
him so much." •
, " And didhe get away from prison ?"
. "'Yes, he got away. They weregoing to
send him to prison in South America, but
he managed to escape, and they never
caught him again. My father knew him
and loved him and that is how I came by
the name of Carlo."
" I wish my name was it too "timid. Gigi,
wistfully. " I wish they had called me
after- that brave prisotier." '
" Never mind; you •were named Bruno,
after my father, you know."
" 'Was lie a patriot ?" '
" Yes, indeed he "vias."
" But they didn't pat him in prison, did
they?'
" No, but they killed, him—wounded him
in ba,ttle. ' He died far Italy."
Gigi looked awed, and , with a sort of '
fearful delight gazed up at St•Ehno, which
they were approaching. Carlo led him into
he disused monastery of San Martino, to
the room which he had Visited year by year, '
ever sitice he was 'Gigi's age, and there,
within a glass case, Soey saw the red blouse
and the cep which Carlo Poerio had worn
in prison.
Gigi heaved a portentous sigh.
" I. wish they hadn't been eo cruel to
hire," be said, wistfully. " How never did
he beer it, do you think ?" .
" I•In thought; ithout freeino- his conritry
from the bad men who were ° cruel to him
and to the others ; he loved Italy better
than himself, and thought only of saving
her. • .
;now to Retie -0 Nigliat-'Sweats.
•
To bOi 001, /I rAi.
Night -sweats rney he.arrested by spong.
ing the body at ttight with Very hot -water.
It is a great help also toward toning up the
skin to rub the body briskly in the °morning
with a bathing towel wrung out of sale' ee
water, tire salt enters the pores and etimn
lates the skin to healthy action. ,
An electrical stop watch, has been tested
in a bicycle race, where it determined the
winner, although he was only one one-hun-
dredth of a second ahead.
eanseaseemeami
6
ugust
lower"
Mr. Lorenzo F. Sleeper is very
well known to the citizens Of Apple-
ton, Me., and neighborhood. Ilc
says: "Eight 3?ears ago I was taken
" sick, and suffered as no one but a
"dyspeptic can. I then began ta
"ing August Flower. At that tim
"1 was a great sufferer. Every-'
'thing I ate distressed 'me so that I
" had to throw it up. Then in .a
"few moments that horrid distress
"would come on and I would have
"to eat and suffer
For that "again. -Itook a
"little of' your med-
Horrid
" icine, and felt much.
S,tomach ."better. and a fter
Feeling.
• " August Flower my
"Dyspepsia disap-
" peared, and since that time
"have never had the first sign of it.
"1 cgp..Aat anything without the
"least fax of distress. 1 wish all
"that are afflicted with that terrible
"disease or the troubles caused by
"it would try August Plower, as I
" am "satisfied there is no medicine
"cogal to it"
" taking a little more
4
il
,