Nobody's Boy Part 46

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Back to my friend."

"Ah, you have a friend! Does he live in Paris?"

"We got to Paris only this morning."

"Well, if you haven't a place to lodge in, why don't you come here? You will be well taken care of and it's an honest house. If your family get tired of waiting to hear from Barberin they may come here and then they'll find you. What I say is for your own interest. What age is your friend?"

"He is a little younger than I."

"Just think! two boys on the streets of Paris! You could get into such a bad place; now this is real respectable on account of the locality."

The Hotel du Cantal was one of the dirtiest lodging houses that I had ever seen and I had seen some pretty dirty ones! But what the old woman said was worth considering, besides we could not be particular. I had not found my family in their beautiful Paris mansion yet. Mattia had been right to want to get all the money we could on our way to the city.

What should we have done if we had not our seventeen francs in our pockets?

"How much will you charge for a room for my friend and myself?" I asked.

"Ten cents a day. That's not much."

"Well, we'll come back to-night."

"Come back early; Paris is a bad place at night for boys," she called after me.

Night was falling. The street lamps were lit. I had a long way to walk to the Cathedral, where I was to meet Mattia. All my high spirits had vanished. I was very tired and all around me seemed gloomy. In this great Paris full of light and noise I felt so utterly alone. Would I ever find my own people? Was I ever to see my real mother and my real father? When I reached the Cathedral I had still twenty minutes to wait for Mattia. I felt this night that I needed his friendship more than ever. What a comfort it was to think that I was going to see him so gay, so kind, such a friend!

A little before seven I heard a quirk hark, then out of the shadows jumped Capi! He sprang onto my knees and licked me with his soft wet tongue. I hugged him in my arms and kissed his cold nose. It was not long before Mattia appeared. In a few words I told him that Barberin was dead and that there was now little hope that I could ever find my family. Then he gave me all the sympathy of which I was in need. He tried to console me and told me not to despair. He wished as sincerely as I that we could find my parents.

We returned to the Hotel du Cantal. The next morning I wrote to Mother Barberin to express my grief for her loss and to ask her if she had had any news from her husband before he died. By return mail she sent me word that her husband had written to her from the hospital, where they had taken him, and said that if he did not get better she was to write to Greth and Galley's, Lincoln Square, London, for they were the lawyers who were looking for me. He told her that she was not to take any steps until she was sure that he was dead.

"We must go to London," said Mattia, when I had finished reading the letter that the priest had written for her. "If the lawyers are English, that shows that your parents are English."

"Oh, I'd rather be the same as Lise and the others. But," I added, "if I'm English I'll be the same as Mrs. Milligan and Arthur."

"I'd rather you were Italian," said Mattia.

In a few minutes our baggage was ready and we were off. It took us eight days to hike from Paris to Bologne, stopping at the princ.i.p.al towns en route. When we reached Bologne we had thirty-two francs in our purse. We took pa.s.sage on a cargo boat that was going the next day to London. What a rough journey we had! Poor Mattia declared that he would never go on the sea again. When at last we were steaming up the Thames I begged him to get up and see the wonderful sights, but he implored me to let him alone. At last the engine stopped and the ropes were thrown to the ground, and we landed in London.

I knew very little English, but Mattia had picked up quite a great deal from an Englishman who had worked with him at the Ga.s.sot Circus. When we landed he at once asked a policeman to direct us to Lincoln Square. It seemed to be a very long way. Many times we thought that we had lost ourselves but again upon making inquiries we found that we were going in the right direction. Finally we reached Temple Bar and a few steps further we came to Green Square.

My heart heat so quickly when we stood before the door of Greth and Galley's office that I had to ask Mattia to wait a moment until I had recovered myself. After Mattia had stated to the clerk my name and my business, we were shown at once into the private office of the head of the firm, Mr. Greth. Fortunately this gentleman spoke French, so I was able to speak to him myself. He questioned me upon every detail of my life. My answers evidently convinced him that I was the boy he was looking for, for he told me that I had a family living in London and that he would send me to them at once.

"One moment, sir. Have I a father?" I asked, scarcely able to say the word "father."

"Yes, not only a father, but a mother, brothers and sisters," he replied.

"Oh...."

He touched a bell and a clerk appeared whom he told to take charge of us.

"Oh, I had forgotten," said Mr. Greth, "your name is Driscoll; your father's name is Mr. John Driscoll."

In spite of Mr. Greth's ugly face I think I could have jumped at him and hugged him if he had given me time, but with his hand he indicated the door and we followed the clerk.

CHAPTER XXVI

BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT

When we got to the street the clerk hailed a cab and told us to jump in.

The strange looking vehicle, with the coachman sitting on a box at the back of a hood that covered us, I learned later was a hansom cab. Mattia and I were huddled in a corner with Capi between our legs. The clerk took up the rest of the seat. Mattia had heard him tell the coachman to drive us to Bethnal-Green. The driver seemed none too anxious to take us there. Mattia and I thought it was probably on account of the distance.

We both knew what "Green" meant in English, and Bethnal-Green undoubtedly was the name of the park where my people lived. For a long time the cab rolled through the busy streets of London. It was such a long way that I thought perhaps their estate was situated on the outskirts of the city. The word "green" made us think that it might be in the country. But nothing around us announced the country. We were in a very thickly populated quarter; the black mud splashed our cab as we drove along; then we turned into a much poorer part of the city and every now and again the cabman pulled up as though he did not know his way. At last he stopped altogether and through the little window of the hansom a discussion took place between Greth & Galley's clerk and the bewildered cabman. From what Mattia could learn the man said that it was no use, he could not find his way, and he asked the clerk which direction he should take. The clerk replied that he did not know for he had never been in that thieves' locality before. We both caught the word "thieves." Then the clerk gave some money to the coachman and told us to get out of the cab. The man grumbled at his fare and then turned round and drove off. We were standing now in a muddy street before what the English call a gin palace. Our guide looked about him in disgust, then entered the swing-doors of the gin palace. We followed. Although we were in a miserable part of the city I had never seen anything more luxurious. There were gilt framed mirrors everywhere, gla.s.s chandeliers and a magnificent counter that shone like silver. Yet the people who filled this place were filthy and in rags. Our guide gulped down a drink standing before the beautiful counter, then asked the man who had served him if he could direct him to the place he wanted to find. Evidently he got the information he required for he hurried out again through the swing-doors, we following close on his heels. The streets through which we walked now were even narrower and from one house across to another were swung wash lines from which dirty rags were hanging. The women who sat in their doorways were pale and their matted fair hair hung loose over their shoulders. The children were almost naked and the few clothes that they did wear were but rags. In the alley were some pigs wallowing in the stagnant water from which a fetid odor arose. Our guide stopped.

Evidently he had lost his way. But at this moment a policeman appeared.

The clerk spoke to him and the officer told him he would show him the way.... We followed the policeman down more narrow streets. At last we stopped at a yard in the middle of which was a little pond.

"This is Red Lion Court," said the officer.

Why were we stopping there? Could it be possible that my parents lived in this place? The policeman knocked at the door of a wooden hut and our guide thanked him. So we had arrived. Mattia took my hand and gently pressed it. I pressed his. We understood one another. I was as in a dream when the door was opened and we found ourselves in a room with a big fire burning in the grate.

Before the fire in a large cane chair sat an old man with a white beard, and his head covered with a black skull cap. At a table sat a man of about forty and a woman about six years his junior. She must have been very pretty once but now her eyes had a gla.s.sy stare and her manners were listless. Then there were four children--two boys and two girls--all very fair like their mother. The eldest boy was about eleven, the youngest girl, scarcely three. I did not know what the clerk was saying to the man, I only caught the name "Driscoll," my name, so the lawyer had said. All eyes were turned on Mattia and me, only the baby girl paid attention to Capi.

"Which one is Remi?" asked the man in French.

"I am," I said, taking a step forward.

"Then come and kiss your father, my boy."

When I had thought of this moment I had imagined that I should be overwhelmed with happiness and spring into my father's arms, but I felt nothing of the kind. I went up and kissed my father.

"Now," he said, "there's your grandfather, your mother, your brothers and sisters."

I went up to my mother first and put my arms about her. She let me kiss her but she did not return my caress; she only said two or three words which I did not understand.

"Shake hands with your grandfather," said my father, "and go gently; he's paralyzed."

I also shook hands with my brothers and my eldest sister. I wanted to take the little one in my arms but she was too occupied with Capi and pushed me away. As I went from one to the other I was angry with myself.

Why could I not feel any pleasure at having found my family at last. I had a father, a mother, brothers, sisters and a grandfather. I had longed for this moment, I had been mad with joy in thinking that I, like other boys, would have a family that I could call my own to love me and whom I could love.... And now I was staring at my family curiously, finding nothing in my heart to say to them, not a word of affection. Was I a monster? If I had found my parents in a palace instead of in a hovel should I have had more affection for them? I felt ashamed at this thought. Going over again to my mother I put my arms round her and kissed her full on the lips. Evidently she did not understand what made me do this, for instead of returning my kisses she looked at me in a listless manner, then turning to her husband, my father, she shrugged her shoulders and said something that I could not understand but which made him laugh. Her indifference and my father's laugh went right to my heart. It did not seem to me that my affection should have been received in such a way.

"Who is he?" asked my father, pointing to Mattia. I told him that Mattia was my dearest friend and how much I owed him.

"Good," said my father; "would he like to stay and see the country?" I was about to answer for Mattia, but he spoke first.

"That's just what I want," he exclaimed.

My father then asked why Barberin had not come with me. I told him that he was dead. He seemed pleased to hear this. He repeated it to my mother, who also seemed pleased. Why were they both pleased that Barberin was dead?