Nobody's Boy by Hector Malot Chapter 11
ANOTHER BOY'S MOTHER
Arthur's mother was English. Her name was Mrs. Milligan. She was awidow, and Arthur was her only son; at least, it was supposed that hewas her only son living, for she had lost an elder child undermysterious conditions. When the child was six months old it had beenkidnaped, and they had never been able to find any trace of him. It istrue that, at the time he was taken, Mrs. Milligan had not been able tomake the necessary searches. Her husband was dying, and she herself wasdangerously ill and knew nothing of what was going on around her. Whenshe regained consciousness her husband was dead and her baby haddisappeared. Her brother-in-law, Mr. James Milligan, had searchedeverywhere for the child. There being no heir, he expected to inherithis brother's property. Yet, after all, Mr. James Milligan inheritednothing from his brother, for seven months after the death of herhusband, Mrs. Milligan's second son, Arthur, was born.
But the doctors said that this frail, delicate child could not live. Hemight die at any moment. In the event of his death, Mr. James Milliganwould succeed to the fortune. He waited and hoped, but the doctors'predictions were not fulfilled. Arthur lived. It was his mother's carethat saved him. When he had to be strapped to a board, she could notbear the thought of her son being closed up in a house, so she had abeautiful barge built for him, and was now traveling through France onthe various canals.
Naturally, it was not the first day that I learned all this about theEnglish lady and her son. I learned these details little by little,while I was with her.
I was given a tiny cabin on the boat. What a wonderful little room itappeared to me! Everything was spotless. The only article of furniturethat the cabin contained was a bureau, but what a bureau: bed, mattress,pillows, and covers combined. And attached to the bed were drawerscontaining brushes, combs, etc. There was no table or chairs, at leastnot in their usual shape, but against the wall was a plank, which whenpulled down was found to be a little square table and chair. How pleasedI was to get into that little bed. It was the first time in my life thatI had felt soft sheets against my face. Mother Barberin's were very hardand they used to rub my cheeks, and Vitalis and I had more often sleptwithout sheets, and those at the cheap lodging houses at which we stayedwere just as rough as Mother Barberin's.
I woke early, for I wanted to know how my animals had passed the night.I found them all at the place where I had installed them the nightbefore, and sleeping as though the beautiful barge had been their homefor several months. The dogs jumped up as I approached, butPretty-Heart, although he had one eye half open, did not move; insteadhe commenced to snore like a trombone.
I guessed at once what was the matter: Pretty-Heart was very sensitive;he got angry very quickly and sulked for a long time. In the presentcircumstances he was annoyed because I had not taken him into my cabin,and he showed his displeasure by pretending to be asleep.
I could not explain to him why I had been forced to leave him on deck,and as I felt that I had, at least in appearances, done him an injury, Itook him in my arms and cuddled him, to show him that I was sorry. Atfirst he continued to sulk, but soon, with his changeable temper, hethought of something else, and by his signs made me understand that if Iwould take him for a walk on land he would perhaps forgive me. The manwho was cleaning the deck was willing to throw the plank across for us,and I went off into the fields with my troop.
The time passed, playing with the dogs and chasing Pretty-Heart; when wereturned the horses were harnessed and the barge in readiness to start.As soon as we were all on the boat the horses began to trot along thetowing path; we glided over the water without feeling a movement, andthe only sound to be heard was the song of the birds, the swish of thewater against the boat, and the tinkle of bells around the horses'necks.
Here and there the water seemed quite black, as though it was of greatdepth; in other parts it was as clear as crystal and we could see theshiny pebbles and velvety grass below.
I was gazing down into the water when I heard some one call my name. Itwas Arthur. He was being carried out on his board.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, "better than in the field?"
I told him that I had, after I had politely spoken to Mrs. Milligan.
"And the dogs?" asked Arthur.
I called to them; they came running up with Pretty-Heart; the lattermaking grimaces as he usually did when he thought that we were going togive a performance.
Mrs. Milligan had placed her son in the shade and had taken a seatbeside him.
"Now," she said to me, "you must take the dogs and the monkey away; weare going to work."
I went with the animals to the front of the boat.
What work could that poor little boy do?
I looked round and saw that his mother was making him repeat a lessonfrom a book she held in her hand. He seemed to be having greatdifficulty in mastering it, but his mother was very patient.
"No," she said at last, "Arthur, you don't know it, at all."
"I can't, Mamma, I just can't," he said, plaintively. "I'm sick."
"Your head is not sick. I can't allow you to grow up in utter ignorancebecause you're an invalid, Arthur."
That seemed very severe to me, yet she spoke in a sweet, kind way.
"Why do you make me so unhappy? You know how I feel when you won'tlearn."
"I cannot, Mamma; I cannot." And he began to cry.
But Mrs. Milligan did not let herself be won over by his tears, althoughshe appeared touched and even more unhappy.
"I would have liked to have let you play this morning with Remi and thedogs," she said, "but you cannot play until you know your lessonsperfectly." With that she gave the book to Arthur and walked away,leaving him alone.
From where I stood I could hear him crying. How could his mother, whoappeared to love him so much, be so severe with the poor little fellow.A moment later she returned.
"Shall we try again?" she asked gently.
She sat down beside him and, taking the book, she began to read thefable called "The Wolf and the Sheep." She read it through three times,then gave the book back to Arthur and told him to learn it alone. Shewent inside the boat.
I could see Arthur's lips moving. He certainly was trying very hard.But soon he took his eyes off the book; his lips stopped moving. Hislook wandered everywhere, but not back to his book. Suddenly he caughtmy eye; I made a sign to him to go on with his lesson. He smiled, asthough to thank me for reminding him, and again fixed his eyes on hisbook. But as before, he could not concentrate his thoughts; his eyesbegan to rove from first one side of the canal to the other. Just then abird flew over the boat, swiftly as an arrow. Arthur raised his head tofollow its flight. When it had passed he looked at me.
"I can't learn this," he said, "and yet I want to."
I went over to him.
"It is not very difficult," I said.
"Yes, it is, it's awfully difficult."
"It seems to me quite easy. I was listening while your mother read it,and I almost learned it myself."
He smiled as though he did not believe it.
"Do you want me to say it to you?"
"You can't."
"Shall I try? You take the book."
He took up the book again, and I began to recite the verse. I had italmost perfect.
"What! you know it?"
"Not quite, but next time I could say it without a mistake, I believe."
"How did you learn it?"
"I listened while your mother read it, but I listened attentivelywithout looking about to see what was going on round about me."
He reddened, and turned away his eyes.
"I will try, like you," he said, "but tell me, what did you do toremember the words?"
I did not quite know how to explain, but I tried my best.
"What is the fable about?" I said. "Sheep. Well, first of all, I thoughtof sheep; the sheep were in a field. I could see them lying down andsleeping in the field; picturing them so, I did not forget."
"Yes, yes," he said, "I can see them, black and white ones! in a greenfield."
"What looks after the sheep usually?"
"Dogs."
"And?..."
"A shepherd."
"If they thought the sheep were quite safe, what did they do?"
"The dog slept while the shepherd played his flute in the distance withthe other shepherds."
Little by little Arthur had the entire fable pictured in his mind's eye.I explained every detail, as well as I was able. When he was thoroughlyinterested we went over the lines together and at the end of half anhour he had mastered it.
"Oh, how pleased mamma will be!" he cried.
When his mother came out she seemed displeased that we were together.She thought that we had been playing, but Arthur did not give her timeto say a word.
"I know it!" he cried. "Remi has taught it to me."
Mrs. Milligan looked at me in surprise, but before she could say a wordArthur had commenced to recite the fable. I looked at Mrs. Milligan: herbeautiful face broke into a smile; then I thought I saw tears in hereyes, but she bent her head quickly over her son and put her arms abouthim. I was not sure if she was crying.
"The words mean nothing," said Arthur; "they are stupid, but the thingsthat one sees! Remi made me see the shepherd with his flute, and thefields, and the dogs, and the sheep, then the wolves, and I could evenhear the music that the shepherd was playing. Shall I sing the song toyou, Mamma?"
And he sang a little sad song in English.
This time Mrs. Milligan did really cry, for when she got up from herseat, I saw that Arthur's cheeks were wet with her tears. Then she cameto me and, taking my hand in hers, pressed it gently.
"You are a good boy," she said.
The evening before I had been a little tramp, who had come on the bargewith his animals to amuse a sick child, but this lesson drew me apartfrom the dogs and the monkey. I was, from now, a companion, almost afriend, to the sick boy.
From that day there was a change in Mrs. Milligan's manner toward me,and between Arthur and myself there grew a strong friendship. I neveronce felt the difference in our positions; this may have been due toMrs. Milligan's kindness, for she often spoke to me as though I were herchild.
When the country was interesting we would go very slowly, but if thelandscape was dreary, the horses would trot quickly along the towingpath. When the sun went down the barge stopped; when the sun rose thebarge started on again.
If the evenings were damp we went into the little cabin and sat round abright fire, so that the sick boy should not feel chilly, and Mrs.Milligan would read to us and show us pictures and tell us beautifulstories.
Then, when the evenings were beautiful, I did my part. I would take myharp and when the boat had stopped I would get off and go at a shortdistance and sit behind a tree. Then, hidden by the branches, I playedand sang my best. On calm nights Arthur liked to hear the music withoutbeing able to see who played. And when I played his favorite airs hewould call out "Encore," and I would play the piece over again.
That was a beautiful life for the country boy, who had sat by MotherBarberin's fireside, and who had tramped the high roads with SignorVitalis. What a difference between the dish of boiled potatoes that mypoor foster mother had given me and the delicious tarts, jellies, andcreams that Mrs. Milligan's cook made! What a contrast between the longtramps in the mud, the pouring rain, the scorching sun, trudging behindVitalis, ... and this ride on the beautiful barge!
The pastry was delicious, and yes, it was fine, oh, so fine not to behungry, nor tired, nor too hot, nor too cold, but in justice to myself,I must say that it was the kindness and love of this lady and thislittle boy that I felt the most. Twice I had been torn from those Iloved, ... first from dear Mother Barberin, and then from Vitalis. I wasleft with only the dogs and the monkey, hungry and footsore, and then abeautiful lady, with a child of about my own age, had taken me in andtreated me as though I were a brother.
Often, as I looked at Arthur strapped to his bench, pale and drawn, Ienvied him, I, so full of health and strength, envied the little sickboy. It was not the luxuries that surrounded him that I envied, not theboat. It was his mother. Oh, how I wanted a mother of my own! She kissedhim, and he was able to put his arms around her whenever hewished,--this lady whose hand I scarcely dared touch when she held itout to me. And I thought sadly that I should never have a mother whowould kiss me and whom I could kiss. Perhaps one day I should see MotherBarberin again, and that would make me very happy, but I could not callher mother now, for she was not my mother....
I was alone.... I should always be alone.... Nobody's boy.
I was old enough to know that one should not expect to have too muchfrom this world, and I thought that, as I had no family, no father ormother, I should be thankful that I had friends. And I was happy, sohappy on that barge. But, alas! it was not to last long. The day wasdrawing near for me to take up my old life again.