“No, I play just what I hear.”
“I’ll teach you, I will.”
“You know everything, then?”
“Well so I ought to, if I’m the director.”
I wanted to show Mattia that I also was a musician. I took my harp and, wishing to impress him, I sang the famous canzonette. Then, as it should be between artists, he complimented me. He had great talent. We were worthy of each other.
I buckled my knapsack and Mattia, in turn, hoisted it on his shoulders.
We had to stop at the first village to give a performance. It was to be the “First appearance of Remi’s Company.”
“Teach me your song,” said Mattia; “we’ll sing it together, and I’ll soon be able to accompany you on the violin. That’ll be pretty.”
Certainly, that would be pretty, and the “distinguished audience” would have a heart of stone if they were not generous in their offerings.
At the first village that we came to we had to pass before a large farm gate; looking in we saw a crowd of people dressed up in their best; some of them carried bouquets tied with satin streamers. It was a wedding. I thought that perhaps these people might like a little music and dance, so I went into the farmyard and suggested it to the first person that I met. This was a big, good-natured looking man with a red face; he wore a tall white collar and a Prince Albert coat. He did not reply to my question, but turning to the guests, he put his two fingers in his mouth and gave such a shrill whistle that it frightened Capi.