Part 1 (2/2)

Giuseppe and Maria (those were their names) never liked living there.

The palace was much too grand, with its marble staircases, and marble floored rooms, so huge and cold; and armed soldiers for sentinels, standing at the corners and doors, to keep people from going into rooms without permission, and to keep watch also, lest somebody should get in and kill the King. The King was always afraid of being killed; there were so many unhappy and discontented persons in Italy, who did not want him to be King. Just think how frightful it must be to know every day,--morning, noon, and night,--that there was danger of somebody's coming stealthily into your room to kill you! Who would be a king? It used to make the children afraid whenever they pa.s.sed these tall soldiers in armor, in the halls. They would hold tight to each other's hands, and run as fast as they could, past them; and when they got out in the open air, they were glad; most of all when their nurse took them into the country, where they could run on the gra.s.s and pick flowers.

There they used often to see poor little hovels of houses, with gardens, and a donkey and chickens in the yard, and children playing; and they used to say they wished their father and mother were poor, and lived in a house like that, and kept a donkey. And then the nurse would tell them they were silly children; that it was a fine thing to live in a palace, and have their father one of the King's officers, and their mother one of the most beautiful of the Queen's ladies; but you couldn't have made the children believe it. They hated the palace, and everything about it, more and more every day of their lives.

Giuseppe was ten, and Maria was seven. They were never called by their real names: Giuseppe was called Jusy, and Maria was called Rea; Jusy and Rea, n.o.body would ever have guessed from that, what their real names were. Maria is p.r.o.nounced _Mahrea_ in Italy; so that was the way she came to be called Rea for shortness. Jusy gave himself his nickname when he was a baby, and it had always stuck to him ever since.

It was enough to make anybody's heart ache to see these two poor little things, when they first got strong enough to totter about after this fever; so weak they felt, they could hardly stand; and they cried more than half the time, thinking about their papa and mamma, dead and buried without their even being able to kiss them once for good-by. The King himself felt so sorry for the little orphans, he came to speak to them; and the kind Queen came almost every day, and sent them beautiful toys, and good things to eat; but nothing comforted the children.

”What do you suppose will become of us, Jusy?” Rea often said; and Jusy would reply,--

”I don't know, Rea. As soon as I'm a man, I can take care of you and myself too, easy enough; and that won't be a great while. I shall ask the King to let me be one of his officers like papa.”

”Oh, no! no! Jusy,” Rea would reply. ”Don't! Don't let's live in this horrid palace. Ask him to give you a little house in the country, with a donkey; and I will cook the dinner. Caterina will teach me how.”

Caterina was their nurse.

”But there wouldn't be any money to pay Caterina,” Jusy would say.

”The King might give us enough for that, Jusy. He is so kind. I'm sure he would, don't you think so?” was Rea's answer to this difficulty.

”No,” said Jusy, ”I don't think he would, unless I earned it. Papa had to work for all the money he had.”

It was a glad day for the children when the news came that their uncle in America was going to send for them to come and live with him; and that in three weeks the man who was to take them there would arrive.

This news came over by telegraph, on that wonderful telegraph wire, down at the bottom of the ocean. Their kind Uncle George thought he would not leave the children uncheered in their suspense and loneliness one minute longer than he could help; so he sent the message by telegraph; and the very day after this telegraphic message went, Jim set out for Italy.

Jim had travelled so much with Mr. Connor that he was just the best possible person to take charge of the children on their long journey. He knew how to manage everything; and he could speak Italian and French and German well enough to say all that was necessary in places where no English was spoken. Moreover, Jim had been a servant in Mr. Connor's father's house all his life; had taken care of Mr. Connor and his sister when they were a little boy and girl together, just as Jusy and Rea were now. He always called Mr. Connor ”Mr. George,” and his sister ”Miss Julia;” and when he set out to go for the children he felt almost as if he were going to the help and rescue of his own grandchildren.

Jusy and Rea did not feel that they were going to a stranger; for they had heard about their Uncle George ever since they could remember; and all about ”Jim” too. Almost every year Mr. Connor used to send his sister a new picture of himself; so the children knew very well how he looked.

When the news came that they were to go to America and live with him, they got out all of these pictures they could find, and ranged them in a line on the mantelpiece in their parlor. There was a picture of Jim too, as black as charcoal. At first, Rea had been afraid of this; but Jusy thought it was splendid. Every morning the lonely little creatures used to stand in front of this line of pictures and say, ”Good-morning, Uncle George! Good-morning to you, Mr. Black Man! How soon will you get here?

We shall be very glad to see you.”

It was over a month before he arrived. The children had been told that he might be there in three weeks from the day the despatch came; and as soon as the three weeks were ended, they began almost to hold their breaths listening for him; they were hardly willing to stir out of the palace for a walk, for fear he might come while they were away. Rea watched at the windows, and Jusy watched at the doorway which led into the corridor.

”He might be afraid of the sentinel at the corner there,” he said.

”Caterina says there are no palaces in America.”

”Goody!” interrupted Rea, ”I'm so glad.”

”And so perhaps he has never seen a man in armor like that; and I'd better be at the door to run and meet him.”

All their clothes were packed ready for the journey; and all the things which had belonged to their mamma were packed up too, to go with them.

The huge rooms looked drearier than ever. The new chamberlain's wife was impatient to get settled in the apartment herself, and kept coming to look at it, and discussing, in the children's presence, where she would put this or that piece of furniture, and how she would have her pictures hung.

”I think she is a very rude lady,” said Jusy. ”The Queen said these were our rooms so long as we stayed, just the same as if mamma were here with us; and I think I see her coming in here that way if mamma was here!”

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