Short stories and selections for use in the secondary schools
General
Short stories and selections for use in the secondary schools
English prose literature; Readers; Short stories
quanto e buono questa latte con lo zucchero! Non piange anima mia,
adesso siamo pronti!" [Footnote: "What nice things, what nice things,
how good this milk with sugar is! Don't cry, my darling, it is ready
now!"]
A slight rustling was heard beneath the Abruzzi cloak and a black little
hand was stretched out toward the red paper bag.
"Primo il latte, primo il latte" admonished the old man. "Non importa,
piglio tu una," [Footnote: "The milk first, the milk first--never mind,
take one."] he repeated, and took a big burnt almond out of the paper
bag; the little hand disappeared, and a crunching was heard under the
cloak. Don Gaetano poured the warm milk in a saucer, and then he
carefully lifted up a corner of the cloak. There lay the poor little
monkey with heaving breast and eyes glowing with fever. Her face had
become so small and her complexion was ashy gray. The old man took her
on his knees, and tenderly as a mother he poured some spoonfuls of the
warm milk into her mouth. She looked with indifferent eyes towards the
delicacies on the table, and absently she let her fingers pass through
her master's beard. She was so tired that she could hardly hold her head
up, and now and then she coughed so that her thin little body trembled,
and she pressed both her hands to her temples. Don Gaetano shook his
head sadly, and carefully laid the little invalid back under the cloak.
A feeble blush spread over the old man's face as he caught sight of me.
I told him that I happened to be passing by just as he was entering his
house, and that I took the liberty of following him upstairs in order to
bid him good-morning and to give him my new address, in the hope that he
would come and play to me as before. I involuntarily looked round for
the barrel-organ as I spoke, and Don Gaetano, who understood, informed
me that he no longer played the organ--he sang. I glanced at the
precious pile of wood beside the fire-place, at the new blanket that
hung before the window to keep out the draught, at the delicacies on the
newspaper--and I also understood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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