I found that day that Mattia could play everything. We played until night, without stopping. It did not matter for me, but poor Mattia was very weak. From time to time I saw him turn pale as though he felt ill, yet he continued to play, blowing with all his might. Fortunately, I was not the only one who saw that he was ill; the bride remarked it also.
“That’s enough,” she said; “that little chap is tired out. Now all hands to your pockets for the musicians!”
I threw my cap to Capi, who caught it in his jaws.
“Give your offerings to our secretary, if you please,” I said.
They applauded, and were delighted at the manner in which Capi bowed. They gave generously; the husband was the last, and he dropped a five franc piece in the cap. The cap was full of silver coins. What a fortune!
We were invited to supper, and they gave us a place to sleep in the hay loft. The next day when we left this hospitable farm we had a capital of twenty-eight francs!
“I owe this to you, Mattia,” I said, after we had counted it; “I could not have made an orchestra all alone.”
With twenty-eight francs in our pockets we were rich. When we reached Corbeil I could very well afford to buy a few things that I considered indispensable: first, a cornet, which would cost three francs at a second-hand shop, then some red ribbons for our stockings and, lastly, another knapsack. It would be easier to carry a small bag all the time than a heavy one in turns.
“A boss like you, who doesn’t beat one, is too good,” said Mattia, laughing happily from time to time.
Our prosperous state of affairs made me decide to set out for Mother Barberin’s as soon as possible. I could take her a present. I was rich now. There was something that, more than anything else, would make her happy, not only now, but in her old age—a cow that would replace poor Rousette. How happy she would be if I gave her a cow, and how proud I should be. Before arriving at Chavanon I would buy a cow and Mattia would lead it by a rope, right into Mother Barberin’s yard.