“I can play the violin, and I can dislocate,” said Mattia breathlessly. “I can dance on the tight rope, I can sing, I’ll do anything you like. I’ll be your servant; I’ll obey you. I don’t ask for money; food only. And if I do badly, you can beat me, that is understood. All that I ask is, that you won’t strike me on the head; that also must be understood, because my head is very sore since Garofoli beat me so much on it.”
I felt like crying, to hear poor little Mattia speak so. How could I refuse to take him with me. Die of hunger! But with me there was also a chance that he might die of hunger. I told him so, but he would not listen to me.
“No, no,” he said; “when there are two, one doesn’t starve, because one helps the other. The one who has it gives to the one who hasn’t.”
I hesitated no longer. As I had some I must help him.
“Well, then, it’s understood,” I said.
Instantly he took my hand and actually kissed it in gratitude.
“Come with me,” I said; “not as a servant, Mattia, but as my chum.”
Shouldering my harp, I gave the signal:
“Forward, march!”
At the end of a quarter of an hour, we had left Paris behind.