 CHAPTER 31 HUNTING FOR THE SWAN For some time after Bob's brother left, we heard only the noise of the wind and the sea dashing against the keel. Then footsteps were heard on the deck above, and the grinding of pulleys. A sail was hoisted, then suddenly the boat leaned to one side and began to rock. In a few moments it was pitching heavily on the rough sea. Poor Matea, I said, taking his hand. I don't care, we're saved. He said, what if I am seasick? The next day I passed my time between the cabin and deck. Matea wanted to be left alone. When at last the skipper pointed out, Harfleur, I hurried down to the cabin to tell him the good news. As it was late in the afternoon when we arrived at Harfleur, Bob's brother told us that we could sleep on the boat that night if we wished. When you want to go back to England, he said the next morning, as we wished him goodbye and thanked him for what he had done for us. Just remember that the eclipse sails from here every Tuesday. It was a kind invitation, but Matea and I each of us had our reasons for not wishing to cross the sea again, yet a while. Fortunately, we had our profits from Bob's performance. In all, we had 27 francs and 50 sometimes. Matea wanted to give Bob the 27 francs in payment for the expenses he had been put to for my flight, but he would not accept a penny. Well, which way shall we go? I asked when we landed in France. By the canal, replied Matea promptly, because I have an idea. I believe the swan is on the canal this summer. Now that Arthur's been so ill, and I think we ought to find it, he added. But what about Lisa and the others? I asked. We'll see them while we're looking for Mrs. Milligan. As we go up the canal, we can stop and see Lisa. With a map that we bought, we searched for the nearest river. It was the same. We'll go up the same and ask all the fishermen along the banks if they've seen the swan. It isn't like any other boat, from what you say. And if they've seen it, they'll remember. Before beginning the long journey that was probably ahead of us, I bought some soft soap to clean Cappy. To me, Cappy Yellow was not Cappy. We washed him thoroughly, each one taking it in turns until he was tired out. But Bob's dye was an excellent quality, and when we had finished, he was still yellow. But a shade paler, it would require many shampoos before we could get him back to his original color. Fortunately Normandy is a country of brooks, and each day we gave him a bath. We reached the top of a hill one morning, and Matea spied the same away ahead of us, winding in a large curve. From then on, we began to question the people. Had they seen the swan? A beautiful barge with a veranda. No one had seen it. It must have passed in the night. We went on to ruin, where again, we commenced our questions, but with no better result. We would not be discouraged, but went forward questioning everyone. We had to stop to get money for our food as we went along. So it took us five weeks to reach the suburbs of Paris. Fortunately, upon arriving at Charentonne, we soon knew which direction we had to take. When we put the important question, we received for the first time the answer for which we had longed. A boat which resembled the swan, a large pleasure boat, had passed that way. Turning to the left, it had continued up the scene. We were by the docks. Mathieu was so overjoyed that he commenced to dance amongst the fishermen. Stopping suddenly, he took his vial in and frantically played a triumphal march. While we played, I questioned the man who had seen the barge. Without a doubt, it was the swan. It had passed through Charentonne about two months ago. Two months? What a lead it had. But what did that matter? We had our legs, and they had the legs of two good horses, and we should join them someday. The question of time did not count. The great thing, the wonderful thing, was that the swan was found. Who was right? cried Mathieu. If I had dared, I would have admitted to Mathieu that I had very great hopes, but I felt that I could not analyze my thoughts, not even to myself. We had no need to stop now and question the people. The swan was ahead of us. We had only to follow the scene. We went on our way, getting nearer to where Lisa lived. I wondered if she had seen the barge as it passed through the locks by her home. At night, we never complained of weariness, and we were always ready the next morning to set out at an early hour. Wake me up, said Mathieu, who was fond of sleeping. And when I woke him, he was never long and jumping to his feet. To economize, we ate hard-boiled eggs, which we bought from the grocers and bread. Yet Mathieu was very fond of good things. I hope Mrs. Milligan has that cook still who made those tarts. He said, apricot tarts must be fine. Haven't you ever tasted them? I've tasted apple puffs, but I've never tasted apricot tarts. I've seen them. What are those little white things? They stick all over the fruit. Almonds. Oh, and Mathieu opened his mouth as though he were swallowing a whole tart. At each lock, we had news of the swan. Everyone had seen the beautiful barge, and they spoke of the kind English lady and the little boy lying on a sofa under the veranda. We drew nearer to Lisa's home. Two days more than one, than only a few hours, we came inside of the house. We were not walking now. We were running. Cappy, who seemed to know where we were going, started ahead at a gallop. He was going to let Lisa know that we were coming. She would come to meet us, but when we got to the house, there was a woman standing at the door, whom we did not know. Where's Madame Suriat? We inquired. For a moment, she stared at us as though we were asking a foolish question. She doesn't live here now. She said at last, she's in Egypt. In Egypt? Mathieu and I looked at one another in amazement. Egypt. We did not know just where Egypt was situated, but we thought, vaguely, it was far away, very far, somewhere beyond the seas. And Lisa, do you know Lisa? The dumb little girl. Yes, I know her. She went off with an English lady on a barge. Lisa is on the swan. Were we dreaming? Mathieu and I stared at one another. Are you Remy? Then asked the woman. Yes. Well, Suriat was drowned. Drowned? Yes. He fell into the lock and got caught below on a nail. And his poor wife didn't know what to do. And then a lady that she lived with before she married was going to Egypt. And she told her she would take her as a nurse to look after the children. She didn't know what to do with little Lisa. And while she was wondering, an English lady and her little sick son came along the canal in a barge. They talked. And the English lady, who was looking for someone to play with her son, for he was tired of being always alone, said she would take Lisa along and she would educate the little girl. The lady said she would have doctors who would cure her and she would be able to speak someday. Before they went, Lisa wanted her aunt to explain to me what I was to say to you if you came to see her. That's all. Lisa was to have written to me so that I could give you her address, but I haven't received the letter yet. End of Chapter 31. Chapter 32 of Nobody's Boy. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Nobody's Boy. Hector Malat. Translated by Florence Crew Jones. Chapter 32. Finding a Real Mother. Forward. March. Children. cried Matia after we had thanked the woman. It is not only Arthur and Mrs. Milligan now that we are going after, but Lisa, what luck. Who knows what's in the store for us. We went on our way in search of the swan, only stopping just to sleep and to earn a few sews. From Switzerland one goes to Italy, said Matia softly. If, while running after Mrs. Milligan, we get to Luca, how happy my little Christina will be. Poor dear Matia. He was helping me to seek those I loved, and I had done nothing to help him see his little sister. At Nions, we gained on the swan. It was now only six weeks ahead of us. I doubted if we could catch up with it before it reached Switzerland. And then I did not know that the river Rhone was not navigable up to the lake of Geneva. We had thought that Mrs. Milligan would go right to Switzerland on her boat. What was my surprise when arriving at the next town to see the swan in the distance? We began to run along the banks of the river. What was the matter? Everything was closed up on the barge. There were no flowers on the veranda. What had happened to Arthur? We stopped, looking at each other both with the same sorrowful thoughts. A man who had charge of the boat told us that the English lady had gone to Switzerland with a sick boy and a little dumb girl. They had gone in a carriage with a maid. The other servants had followed with the baggage. We breathed again. Where is the lady? Asked Matia. She has taken a villa at Vauvée. But I cannot say where. She is going to spend the summer there. We started for Vauvée. Now they were not traveling away from us. They had stopped and we should be sure to find them at Vauvée if we searched. We arrived there with three sooths in our pockets and the soles off our boots. Vauvée is not a little village. It is a town. And as for asking for Mrs. Milligan, or even an English lady with a sick son and a dumb girl, we knew that that would be absurd. There are so many English in Vauvée. The place is almost like an English pleasure resort. The best way, we thought, was to go to all the houses where they might be likely to live. That would not be difficult. We had only to play our music in every street. We tried everywhere. But yet we could see no signs of Mrs. Milligan. We went from lake to the mountains, from the mountains to the lake, looking to the right and to the left, questioning from time to time people who, from their expression, we thought would be disposed to listen and reply. Someone sent us to a chalet built way up on the mountain. Another assured us that she lived down by the lake. They were indeed English ladies who lived up in the chalet on the mountain and the villa down by the lake, but not our Mrs. Milligan. One afternoon we were playing in the middle of the road. The house before us had a large iron gate. The house behind stood way back in a garden. In the front of it there was a stone wall. I was singing my loudest. I sung the first verse of my Neapolitan song and was about to commence the second when we heard a weak, strange voice singing. Who could it be? What a strange voice! Arthur, inquired Mattia. No, no, it is not Arthur. I have never heard that voice before. But Cappy commenced to whine and gave every sign of intense joy while jumping against the wall. Who is singing? I cried, unable to contain myself. Remy called a weak voice. My name, instead of an answer, Mattia and I looked at one another, thunderstruck. As we stood looking stupidly into each other's faces, I saw a handkerchief being waved at the end of the wall. We ran to the spot. It was not until we got to the hedge which surrounded the other side of the garden that we saw the one who was waving. Lisa, at last we had found her and not far away were Mrs. Milligan and Arthur. But who had sung? That was the question that Mattia and I asked as soon as we found words. I answered Lisa. Lisa was singing. Lisa was talking. The doctors had said that one day Lisa would recover her speech and very probably under the shock of a violent emotion. But I did not think that it could be possible. And yet the miracle had happened and it was upon knowing that I had come to her and hearing me sing the Neapolitan song. I used to sing to her that she had felt this intense emotion and was restored to her voice. I was so overcome at this thought that I had to stretch out my hand to study myself. Where is Mrs. Milligan? I asked. And Arthur, Lisa moved her lips. But she could only utter inarticulate sounds. Then impatiently she used the sign language of her hands. For her time was still clumsy in forming words. She pointed down the garden and we saw Arthur lying in an in-village chair. And one side of him was his mother and on the other, Mr. James Milligan. In fear, in fact, almost terror, I stooped down behind the hedge. Lisa must have wondered why I did so. Then I made a sign to her to go. Go, Lisa, or you'll betray me. I said, come tomorrow here at nine o'clock and be alone. Then I can talk to you. She hesitated for a moment. Then went up the garden. We ought not to wait till tomorrow to Mrs. Milligan, said Mattia. In the meantime, that uncle might kill Arthur. He has never seen me, and I'm going to see Mrs. Milligan at once and tell her there was some reason in what Mattia proposed. So I let him go off, telling him that I would wait for him at a short distance under a big chestnut tree. I waited a long time for Mattia. More than a dozen times I wondered if I had not made a mistake in letting him go. At last I saw him coming back, accompanied by Mrs. Milligan. I ran to her, and, seizing the hand that she held out to me, I bent over it. But she put her arms round me and, stooping down, kissed me tenderly on the forehead. Poor, dear child, she murmured with her beautiful white fingers, she pushed the hair back from my forehead and looked at me for a long time. Yes, yes, she whispered softly. I was too happy to say a word. Mattia and I have had a long talk, she said, but I want you to tell me yourself how you came to enter the Driscoll family. I told her what she asked, and she only interrupted me to tell me to be exact on certain points. Never had I been listened to with such attention. Her eyes did not leave mine. When I had finished, she was silent for some time, still looking at me. At last she said, this is a very serious matter, and we must act prudently. Consider yourself as the friend. She hesitated a little as the brother of Arthur. In two hours' time, go to the hotel, the Alps. For the time being, you will stay there. I will send someone to the hotel to meet you. I am obliged to leave you now. Again she kissed me, and after having shaken hands with Mattia, she walked away quickly. What did you tell Mrs. Milligan? I demanded of Mattia. All that I have said to you is a lot more things, he replied. She is a kind lady, a beautiful lady. Did you see Arthur? Only from a distance, but near enough to see that he looked a nice sort of boy. I continued to question Mattia, but he answered me vaguely. Although we were in our ragged street suits, we were received at the hotel by a servant in a black suit in a white tie. He took us to our apartment. How beautiful we thought our bedroom. There were two white beds side by side. The windows opened onto a balcony overlooking the lake. The servant asked us what we would like for dinner, which he would serve us on the balcony if we wished. Have you any tarts? asked Mattia. Yes, rhubarb tarts, strawberry tarts, and gooseberry tarts. Good. Then you can serve these tarts. All three? Certainly. And what entree? What meat? Vegetables. At each offer, Mattia opened his eyes, but he would not allow himself to be disconcerted. Anything. Just what you like. He replied, coolly. The butler left the room gravely. The next day Mrs. Milligan came to see us. She was accompanied by a tailor and a shirt maker who took our measures for some suits and shirts. Mrs. Milligan told us that Lisa was trying to talk and that the doctor had declared that she would soon be cured. Then after having spent an hour with us, she left us, again kissing me tenderly and hands-warmly with Mattia. For four days she came. Each time she was more affectionate and loving to me, yet still with a certain restraint, the fifth day the maid, whom I had known on the swan, came in her place. She told us that Mrs. Milligan was expecting us and that a carriage was at the hotel doors to take us to her. Mattia took a seat in the bro-hem as though he had been used to riding in a carriage all his life. And without any embarrassment and sat down on the velvet cushions, the drive was short. It seemed to me very short, for I was like one in a dream, my head filled with foolish ideas or at least what I thought might be foolish. We were shown into a drawing room. Mrs. Milligan, Arthur, and Lisa were there. Arthur held out his arms. I rushed over to him. Then I kissed Lisa. Mrs. Milligan kissed me. I looked at her. I asked her to explain. She went over to a door and opened it. Then came the grand surprise. Mother Barbara entered. In her arms she carried some baby's clothes, a white cashmere, police, a lace bonnet, some bowling shoes. She had only time to put these things on the table before I was hugging her. While I fondled her, Mrs. Milligan gave an order to the servant. I heard only the name of Milligan, but I looked up quickly. I know that I turned pale. You have nothing to fear, said Mrs. Milligan gently. Come over here and place your hand in mine. James Milligan came into the room, smiling and showing his white pointed teeth. When he saw me, the smile turned to a horrible grimace. Mrs. Milligan did not give him time to speak. I asked for you to come here, she said, her voice shaking, to introduce you to my eldest son, whom I have at last found. She pressed my hand. But you have met him already. You saw him at the home of the man who stole him. When you went there to inquire after his health, what does this mean? Demanded Milligan that the man who is serving a sentence for robbing a church has made a full confession. He has stated how he stole my baby and took it to Paris and left it there. Here are the clothes that my child wore. A married woman who brought up my son. Do you wish to read this confession? Do you wish to examine these clothes? James Milligan looked at us as though he would like to have strangled us. Then he turned on his heels. At the threshold, he turned round and said, We'll see what the courts will think of this boy's story. My mother, I may call her so now, replied quietly, You may take the matter to the courts. I have not done so because you are my husband's brother. The door closed. Then, for the first time in my life, I kissed my mother as she kissed me. Will you tell your mother that I kept the secret? Said Mattia, coming up to us. You knew all, then? I told Mattia not to speak of all this to you, said my mother. For though I didn't believe you were my son, I had to have certain proofs and get Madame Barbara in here with the clothes. How unhappy we should have been after all, we had made a mistake. We have these proofs and we shall never be parted again. You will live with your mother and brother. Then, pointing to Mattia and Lisa, and, she added, with those whom you loved when you were poor. End of chapter 32. Chapter 33 of Nobody's Boy. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information please visit LibriVox.org. Nobody's Boy, Hector Malat. Translated by Florence Crew Jones. Chapter 33 The Dream Come True. Years have passed. I now live in the home of my ancestors, Milligan Park. The miserable little wanderer who slept so often in a stable was heir to an old historical castle. It was a beautiful old place about 20 miles west of the spot where I jumped from the train to escape from the police. I live here with my mother, my brother, and my wife. We are going to baptize our first child, Little Mattia. Tonight all those who were my friends in my poorer days will meet under my roof to celebrate the event and I am going to offer to each one as a little token, a copy of my memoirs which for the last 6 months I have been writing and which today I have received one of all our friends is a surprise for my wife. She will see her father, her sister, her brothers, her aunt. Only my mother and brother are in the secret one will be missing from this feast. Alas, poor master, poor Vitalis, I could not do much for you in life but at my request my mother has had erected a marble tomb and placed your bust, the bust of Carlo Balzini upon the tomb. This bust is before me now as I write and often while pinning my memoirs, I have looked up and my eyes have caught yours. I have not forgotten you, I shall never forget you, dear master, dear Vitalis. Here comes my mother leaning on my brother's arm for it is now the son who supports the mother for Arthur has grown big and strong. A few steps behind my mother comes an old woman dressed like a French peasant and carrying her arms a little baby robed in a white police. It is dear mother, Barbara, the little baby is my son, Matia. Arthur brings me a copy of The Times and points to a correspondence from Vienna which states that Matia, the great musician has completed his series of concerts and that, in spite of his tremendous success in Vienna, he is returning to England to keep an engagement which cannot be broken. I did not need to read the article before, although all the world now calls Matia the Chopin of the violin. I have watched him develop and grow when we were all three working together under the direction of our tutors. Matia made little progress in Latin and Greek, but quickly outstripped his professors in music. Espinozas, the barber musician of Mendez, had been right. A footman brings me a telegram. See, very rough. Alas, have very ill, but managed to stop on my way at Paris for Christina. Shall be with you at four o'clock. Sin carriage to meet us. Matia, mentioning Christina, I glanced at Arthur, but he turned away his eyes. I knew that Arthur loved Matia's little sister, and I knew that in time, although not just yet, my mother would become reconciled to the match. Birth was not everything. She had not opposed my marriage, and later, when she saw that it was for Arthur's happiness, she would not oppose his. Lisa comes down the gallery. My beautiful wife, she passes her arm round my mother's neck. Mother, dear, she said, there is some secret afoot, and I believe that you are in the plot. I know if it is a surprise and you are in it. It is something for our happiness, but I am none the less curious. Come, Lisa, you shall have the surprise now. I said, as I heard the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel outside. One by one our guests arrive, and Lisa and I stand in the hall to welcome them. There is a Mr. Equin, Aunt Catherine, Annette Annette, and a bronze young man who has just returned from a botanical expedition and is now the famous botanist, Benjamin Equin. Then comes a young man and an old man. This journey is doubly interesting to them for when they leave us, they are going to Wales to visit the mines. The young one is to make observations which he will carry back to his own country to strengthen the high position which he now holds in the true year mine. And the other to add to the fine collection of minerals which the town of Arces has honored him by accepting. It is the old professor and Alexis. Lisa and I greet our guests. The landow dashes from the opposite direction with Arthur Christina and Matia. Following in its wake is a dog car driven by a smart looking man beside whom is seated a rugged sailor. The gentleman holding the reins is Bob, now very prosperous, and the man by his side is his brother who helped me to escape from England. When the baptismal feast is over, Matia draws me aside to the window. We have often playful to indifferent people, he said. Let us now, on this memorable occasion play for those we love. To you there is no pleasure without music. Eh? Matia? Old boy? I said, laughing. Do you remember how you scared our cow? Matia grinned from a beautiful box lined with velvet. He drew out an old violin which would not have brought to Frank's if he had wished to sell it. I took from its coverings a harp the wood of which had been washed so often by the rain. That it was now restored to its original color. Will you sing your Neapolitan song? Asked Matia. Yes, for it was that which gave Lisa back her speech. I said, smiling at my wife as stood beside me. Our guests drew round in a circle. A dog suddenly came forward. Good old Cappy. He is very old and deaf, but he still has good eyesight. From the cushion which he occupies he has recognized the harp and up becomes limping for the performance. In his jaws he holds a saucer. He wants to make the rounds of the distinguished audience. He tries to walk on his two hind paws, but strength fails him. So he sits down gravely and with his paw on his heart he bows to the society. Our song ended. Cappy gets up as best he can and makes the round. Each one drops something into the saucer and Cappy delightedly brings it to me. It is the best collection he has ever made. There are only gold and silver coins, 170 francs. I kiss him on his cold nose as in the other days, and the thought of the miseries of my childhood gives me an idea. I tell my guests that this sum shall be the first subscription to found a home for little street musicians. My mother and I will donate the rest. Dear madam, said Mattia, bending over my mother's hand, let me have a little share in this good work. The proceeds of my first concert will be added to Cappy's collection and Cappy barked approval. End of chapter 33 End of Nobody's Boy by Hector Malat, translated by Florence Crew Jones.