“TELL ME THY SECRET, BEPPO.”
(The Roman Bird Girl. )
I was reminded of this little Sardinian and his pets by a scene I witnessed one morning in Rome. A crowd of people had gathered near the broad base of the Antonine column, watching the performance of four pigeons and three canaries. The little maid with the pigeons was charming—and so were they—as she bid them tell her their secrets, and in response they fluttered up her shoulders, and cooed into her ear. But the true interest of the entertainment—its dramatic part—began with the canaries. The little actors were sitting in a row on top of their cage, demurely waiting for orders. Their mistress talked to them meanwhile, now praising their talents, now admiring their beauty, they following each motion of her lips with keen, inquisitive glances.
“Thou, Beppo, art a bird of great character, un gran carattere! Really, thou art wonderful! Zirlo, my fine fellow” (to the second), “what a bird art thou! Who like thee can climb the scaletta (little ladder)! No one, in truth, and they are base ladroni that deny thy merits; eh Pippa?” (to the third). “Dost thou hear? Bellissima! One, two, three, come then, my Pippa, kiss me.” She extended a finger. Pippa transferred herself to it from the perch, and climbing the arm to her face, gave a fluttering little salute first to one cheek, then to the other. After which, hopping back to the finger, she made a droll little bow, and returned to the perch.
Then it was Zirlo’s turn; and this enterprising bird not only climbed the scaletta, but finding a gun at the top, shouldered it, pulled the trigger with an infinitesimal claw, and—bang!—who should tumble from his perch but poor Beppo, and lie perfectly rigid on the ground. Zirlo’s fit of anger was quenched at this piteous sight; carefully he examined the stiff figure and at last, picking up an inch-square pocket-handkerchief with one foot, applied it to his eyes, and wept bitterly. Then up jumped Beppo, who had only been feigning, and the two touched bills in token of reconciliation, and waltzed—wing in wing—fraternally off the stage.
It was a pretty scene—the sunshine, the people, the tiny performers below, and the mighty column towering high above them—the grandeur of old Rome looking down upon the present thus lightly amusing itself.
XI.
A MENAGERIE IN STONE.