It is not difficult to understand why Giovanni should have married Elvira and her family, when it was known that the woman brought to her husband a small fortune in the shape of her own wonderful skill as a rider of horses, and the little ones as possible acrobats of the future. They had been married for two years now, and if Giovanni had counted largely upon his ready-made family for speedy reënforcements in the “ring”, he must have become a little discouraged even by this time. It is true that Paulo and Arduina were well trained in the art of circus acting; but poor Pietro, the middle-sized one, who was twelve years old, was always ailing and feeble. Sleeping out of doors in the marshy regions had developed in his system a chronic fever which could not be thrown off, even with the aid of Nonna’s assiduous doctoring, and lately the weakness had settled in one leg and foot, threatening permanent lameness.
Natale, who came next, was agile enough when running about on his slim brown legs, but his funny stiff-legged somersaults and awkward antics in the ring were matters of jesting among the whole troop. Poor little Natale, who did so wish to be like Antonio Bisbini!
Lastly there was Maria, who was a mere baby and as yet only just learning to stand upright on her stepfather’s head.
But Antonio Bisbini, the father of the other family, was the star of the little troop of strolling players. Tall and lean and muscular, he stood six feet two in his sandals. His blond hair and skin and strong, clear-cut features gave him the look of some stern young Viking from the cold forests of the North, yet this youthful-looking, ruddy athlete was already the father of seven young children.
No one in the company, not even the clown, could hold a candle to Antonio in looks or in graceful skill. Natale was sure that the noblest and most beautiful figure in all Italy was that of Antonio Bisbini as he would step forth from behind the tent-curtain, ready to thrill the spectators about the ring. The flesh-colored tights clothing his limbs showed to perfection their symmetry and grace, relieved by the brilliantly spangled hip garment of black velvet and fringe, while the proud glance of his gray eyes and the light tread of his feet never failed to impress the beholder.
Antonio’s oldest, little red-haired Olga, tumbled and danced with all a healthy child’s love of activity and applause, and Oh! how Natale envied her the perfect “wheels” she turned, one after the other with dizzying swiftness across the dusty strip of carpet in the ring. But the rest of Antonio’s seven were as yet too small to be useful as tumblers or dancers, and Nonna’s hands were always full, while their mother did her daring dances in the air.
The three musicians, then, and Nonna completed this strolling band of twenty, with the two horses, the dogs and the twisted-necked pony. Poor Caffero had grievously hurt his pretty neck one day when very young, while tied in his stall and leaping to reach his food from a manger set cruelly high. Since then he had trotted painfully through three years of going up and down the earth, with his brown head and long neck twisted far around to one side without the power of righting them. Caffero would have made a pretty part of the show had not this accident befallen him. As it was, he was good for little but helping to guide the house-wagon along the weary roads. Yet every one loved Caffero.
On the day of the arrival at Cutigliano the two horses Tesoro and Il Duca were left in their stalls in the village stables during the whole afternoon, while Caffero was brought down the steep village street and allowed to graze in the public field. Nonna herself had gone up for him with Tito in her arms, after the midday meal of polenta, or thick mush of yellow meal, had been eaten. As the trio passed through the narrow street of the village, many heads turned to wonder at the strangers—the gray-haired woman, the bright-eyed child in her arms, and poor Caffero, who always seemed pulling against the leading rope and trying to twist his head after something left behind.
It was while Nonna, a little later, was tying Caffero’s rope to a tree in the field that she spied the two dogs asleep in the sun near the edge of the terrace. As Tito recognized them at the same time, and called them in his baby voice, the grandmother added her summons, and was rather astonished at their failure to obey. They bounded to their feet, it is true, but instead of scampering to meet her, they stood still, quivering with nervous excitement and waving their tails in much perplexity. Then as Tito began to fret and belabor the air with his fists, Nonna started swiftly toward the dogs with something threatening in her gait.
But where were they, those lazy brutes, which a moment before had defied her and then had promptly disappeared? A few more hasty steps brought Nonna near enough to the edge of the descent to see both Niero and Bianco crouching over Natale on the lower terrace. The boy had been awakened by the sudden onset of his faithful friends, and lay looking lazily upward as Nonna and Tito peered over at him.