"There, there! I told him so!" said the good woman soothingly. "I told him I must have lost it at the market when I was making change for somebody. But he will not believe. You must be off, Gigi, before he wakes, or you will have to go back to those cruel fellows. Giuseppe is so set! Like a mule he is when he is angry!" Gigi sprang to his feet and looked wildly around. "Where shall I go? What shall I do?" he asked. Mother Margherita looked at the pale little lad and her eyes filled. "Poor little fellow!" she sighed. "Suppose you were one of my boys, Beppo or Paolo! But we must lose no time"; and she dashed the tears from her eyes. "Here is your cloak to hide that gaudy dress. And here is a bundle of food,--all I could spare without the good man's knowledge. For it must seem that you have run away of your own accord. I know that will make him sure that you are a thief. But I dare not let him guess that I have warned you and helped you to escape. You do not know Giuseppe's anger!--Farewell, dear little lad, and may the Saints have you in their keeping." She led him to the door and pointed out the direction, in the gray dawn. She showed him where, to the north, by a great tree, a lane branched from the highroad. "Follow that," she said. "It will be safer in case you are pursued. And it comes at last to the great road into another country. There perhaps you will be safe and find friends who can help you more than I have done. Though none can wish you better." And she hugged him close. "Farewell, Gigi!" VII THE WANDERER With a lump in his throat, Gigi left the only roof that had ever shown him kindness. In the gray dawn he crept out to the highroad. There was no time to be lost, for already the east was growing pink, and soon the sun would be making long shadows on the open road. Giuseppe would surely spy him and bring him back. As soon as he was outside the farm enclosure, Gigi began to run. But he found that he was stiff and sore from his fall of the day before, and from the many beatings which he had received of late. Every bone in his body ached, and especially his head, which throbbed so as to make him faint. Still he ran on. For more than anything else he feared being captured and sent back to the Gypsies. At last Gigi came to the great tree where branched the cross-road to the north. Here he turned aside. Then he drew a deep breath, feeling safer. He ceased running, and presently, being hungry and tired, he sat down upon a stone and opened the bundle which Mother Margherita had given him. He found bread and cheese, and began to eat greedily, until he remembered that he knew not where he should find dinner and supper. He looked at the remnant of bread and cheese longingly, but at last wrapped it up and put it back into the little pouch which, as was the custom in those times, he wore at his belt.