Forward march, children!
I took one last look at the prison, behind the walls of which little Lise’s father was shut, then went on my way.
The thing I needed most of all was a map of France. Knowing that in the book stalls on the quays I could procure one, I wended my way towards the river. At last I found one that was so yellow that the man let me have it for fifteen sous.
I was able to leave Paris now, and I decided to do so at once. I had a choice between two roads. I chose the road to Fontainebleau. As I went up the Rue Mouffetard, a host of memories rushed upon me. Garofoli! Mattia! Ricardo! the soup pot fastened with a padlock, the whip, and Vitalis, my poor, good master, who had died because he would not rent me to the padrone. As I passed the church I saw a little boy leaning against the wall, and I thought I recognized him. Surely it was Mattia, the boy with the big head, the great eyes and the soft, resigned look. But then he had not grown one inch! I went nearer to see better. Yes, it was Mattia. He recognised me. His pale face broke into a smile.
“Ah, it’s you,” he said. “You came to Garofoli’s a long time ago with an old man with a white beard, just before I went to the hospital. Ah! how I used to suffer with my head then.”
“Is Garofoli still your master?”
He glanced round before replying, then lowering his voice he said: “Garofoli is in prison. They took him because he beat Orlando to death.”
I was shocked at this. I was pleased to hear that they had put Garofoli in prison, and for the first time I thought the prisons, which inspired me with so much horror, had their use.
“And the other boys?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. I was not there when Garofoli was arrested. When I came out of the hospital, Garofoli, seeing that it was no good to beat me ’cause I got ill, wanted to get rid of me, so he sold me for two years to the Gassot Circus. They paid him in advance. D’ye know the Gassot Circus? No? Well, it’s not much of a circus, but it’s a circus all the same. They wanted a child for dislocation, and Garofoli sold me to Mr. Gassot. I stayed with him until last Monday, when he sent me off because my head was too big to go into the box. After leaving the circus I went back to find Garofoli, but the place was all shut up, and a neighbor told me what had happened. Now that Garofoli’s in prison I don’t know where to go.