Part 8 (1/2)

”To-night I'll sing instead, my little Beppo,” answered Punchinello. He was weary, and when he whirled his head grew dizzy. ”I'll sing you a song of s.h.i.+ps that sail through seas of clouds; and trees as sing the world to slow sleep when winds do blow.”

But little Beppo wished to see him dance. ”See, Punchinello,” said he softly, ”around your neck I tie my locket. It is my only treasure. They say my mother placed it on me when she died. It has a bluebird painted on it which is the only bird I've ever seen. Now wilt thou dance for me, dear Punchinello?” He kissed the clown's queer painted face, and Punchinello danced.

And never had he danced so well before. As though he heard afar the music that the fairies make at midnight, he waltzed and twirled faster and yet faster, pausing not at all. He pranced, he leaped and spun upon his toe as though he were a dancing doll wound up to dance so long. The little lame child watched him eagerly, and as he watched, as though he too heard magic strains from fairyland, he sprung up from his cot and straightway danced and whirled about in Punchinello's footsteps.

”Look, look, dear Punchinello!” little Beppo cried. ”I am no longer lame but dance as well as you yourself.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Look, look, dear Punchinello!” little Beppo cried.

”I am no longer lame.”--_Page 116._]

But Punchinello, whirling like a leaf, made no reply. He sang his gayest songs and leaped so lightly in the air, there seemed to be a thousand harlequins, and little Beppo followed lightly after. Suddenly the child stopped, for Punchinello was no longer dancing.

”Oh, my good Punchinello!” he exclaimed. ”Why did you run away? I'll follow after you,” and down the ladder he swiftly sped. He saw the white tents s.h.i.+ning in the moonlight. ”Indeed, I'll join the circus with my Punchinello,” said he to himself, ”and travel around the world with him.”

But alas! Poor Punchinello had not stolen off, as little Beppo thought.

For while in his wild dance that charmed the lame child's pain away, poor Punchinello felt himself grow ill. His head grew giddy, and at last he fell upon the floor, and there the nurses found him in the morning.

They placed poor Punchinello on the bed where little Beppo had lain for so many years, and wondered whence the clown had come.

And so it was the king and queen who went next day to see the show were displeased because the famous Punchinello was not there to dance and jest for them. No other clowns or harlequins would please their royal majesties, and so they left in anger. They bade the circus owner strip his tents and in that very hour depart, and when another morning came, our little Beppo found himself in a strange city with the circus folk.

At first these circus folk were puzzled what to do with him, but as the child could dance and cut droll capers, they made for him a spotted satin suit and gave him pom-pom slippers turned up at the toes. They would have called him Little Punchinello, but this the child would not allow.

”Good Punchinello was my friend,” said little Beppo. ”And 'twas from him I learned to dance before I ever walked. I will not take his name, but I will seek him everywhere until I find him.”

Some circus folk thought Punchinello had run off to join a show of traveling jugglers, and others thought perhaps he had grown tired of dancing and grimacing. Then by and by they ceased to talk of him, and all forgot him, save little Beppo.

Meanwhile poor Punchinello lay in a raging fever. The nurses thought that he would die, for he was very ill. But after a long time the fever left him, and then they knew he would grow better. He asked one day for little Beppo, but they could tell him nothing of the child.

”We came to waken him one morning, but the child was gone and you were lying ill,” said they. ”We could not see how this could be, for little Beppo was too lame to walk; but though we searched the city, he could not be found.”

Another day poor Punchinello asked about the circus, and again the nurses shook their heads.

”The circus folk have gone long since,” said they. ”The king was angry with them and bade them go in haste, 'tis said. We cannot say which way they went.”

When Punchinello was all well at last; he rose and donned his many-colored robes that jingled when he walked. He had grown thin and pale, and they became him poorly, but he had not money to buy others. He wrapped his great cloak all about him and started out to earn his bread.

Poor Punchinello was too weak to dance; he could not plow or dig; he had not been so trained. And so at last this famous Punchinello stood upon the highways and sang for pennies that good-natured people threw to him.

”I am the famous Punchinello,” he would sometimes say. ”Have you not heard of famous Punchinello of the circus?”

But those who heard him laughed in scorn. ”If you be famous Punchinello of the circus,” they would say, ”why sing you then for coppers like a beggar, and where is the circus? You are not Punchinello, but a fraud.”

Thus poor and friendless, Punchinello started out to seek the circus.

His wanderings led him into many lands, and often he met folk who told him that the circus had pa.s.sed there. But Punchinello, journeying afoot, could never travel fast enough to overtake the circus. His pom-pom slippers soon were torn by stones along the highway, and he went barefoot. His satin robe of many colors faded and grew worn. Punchinello patched here with yarn and there with bits of leather cloth or sacking, until the colors had all fled, and it was naught but rags sewn all together. Poor Punchinello danced no more, for ragged robes and dancing do not fit; but even so, his voice was sweet and clear as ever.

”So I am not yet poor, despite my rags,” he would say bravely to himself. ”For yesterday I caught a golden smile from one who flung a copper; and who knows? Perhaps to-day I may again be favored.”

Then one day in his wanderings Punchinello awakened to the music of the fife and drum. He saw gay banners flying and hurried to the highway with the crowds. It was the circus he had sought so long, and as he saw his old friends marching by, poor Punchinello's eyes filled with tears of joy. The lion tamers with their roaring beasts strode by, the elephants in scarlet blankets decked, the jugglers next, and then a little dancing clown who stepped and pranced in drollest fas.h.i.+on.