Chapter 13 Chapter Six

Gemma and the Gadfly walked silently along the banks of the Arno.His frenzy of eloquence seemed to have died down.After they left Riccardo's apartment, he did not speak much.Gemma was really glad to see that he was silent.With him she always felt ashamed.She was more so today than usual.Because his behavior at the meeting confuses her greatly. At the Uffizi Palace, he stopped suddenly, then turned to look at her. "Are you tired?" "Not tired. Why?" "Aren't you particularly busy tonight?" "not busy." "I want to ask you one thing. I want you to take a walk with me."

"Where are you going?" "There is no specific place, wherever you like." "But why?" He hesitated. "I—can't tell you—at least right now, it's hard to say. But come if you can." He suddenly raised his eyes, which were looking at the ground, and she saw a very strange look in his eyes. "What's on your mind," she said quietly.He plucked a leaf from the buttonhole, and began to tear it to pieces.The strange thing is who is he so like?Someone's fingers have the habit too, jerky and nervous. "I'm in trouble," he said, almost inaudible, looking down at his hands. "I—I don't want to be alone tonight. Are you coming?"

"Of course, you'd better go to my apartment." "No, go to a restaurant with me. There's a restaurant in Signoria. Please don't say no now. You've said yes!" They went into a restaurant, and he ordered, but never touched his portion.He insisted on not saying a word, while crumbling bread on the tablecloth and pinching the corner of the napkin.Gemma felt very uncomfortable, and then began to think that she should not have agreed to come here.The silence became more and more embarrassing, but she couldn't talk about some innocuous things, that person seemed to have forgotten her existence.He finally raised his head and said abruptly, "Would you like to go to a vaudeville show?"

She looked at him in surprise.How did he come up with vaudeville? "Have you ever seen a vaudeville show?" he asked again before she could answer. "No, I don't think so. I don't think that's interesting." "Very interesting. I don't think it's possible to study people's lives without seeing them. Let's go back to Crossgate." When they got there, the buskers had pitched their tents by the city gate, and the piercing sound of violins and the banging of drums announced that the show had begun. This is the grossest form of entertainment.A few clowns, Harlequin and jugglers, a hoop-riding circus jockey, painted Corumbin and the hunchback doing all sorts of tedious and silly antics, and that made up the whole cast.Overall, the jokes are neither crude nor disgusting, but flat and trite.The whole performance was lacklustre.The audience laughed and applauded out of Tuscan politeness, but in fact it was the hunchback's performance that they watched with gusto. Back, the movements are weird and ugly.The audience imitated his actions, and they lifted the child on their shoulders so that the little ones could see the "ugly man".

"Mr. Rivarez, do you really find this attractive?" said Gemma, turning to the Gadfly.The Gadfly was standing beside her with his arm around one of the tent posts. "in my opinion--" She stopped talking, still looking at him silently.Except that day when she stood beside Montanelli at the garden gate in Leghorn, she had never seen such a face expressing such an unfathomable, hopeless anguish.As she looked at him she thought of Dante's Inferno. At this moment, a clown stepped on the hunchback, and the hunchback turned around and turned over a bucket, then paralyzed, and fell out of the circle in a strange shape.The two clowns began to talk, and the Gadfly seemed to wake up from a dream.

"Shall we go?" he asked. "Or do you want to watch it a little longer?" "I think it's better to go." They left the tent and walked across the dark grass to the river.For a while, neither of them spoke. "What do you think of the performance?" asked the Gadfly after a while. "I think it's a boring business, and there's a performance that I find really unpleasant." "Which paragraph?" "Well, those grimaces, hunched over like that. It's just ugly, and there's nothing brilliant about it." "You mean the hunchback's show?"

She remembered that he was particularly sensitive to the subject of his own physical defects, so she avoided mentioning this passage specifically.But now he touched the subject himself, so she responded. "Yeah, I don't like that part at all." "It's the show that people appreciate the most." "Yeah, that's the worst part." "Because it's not artistic?" "No—no, there's no artistry at all. I mean—because it's brutal." He smiled. "Cruel? You mean to the hunchback?" "I mean - of course the man doesn't give a damn. No doubt it's just a means of earning a living for him, like a jockey or a Corumbin. But it's not happy about it. Shame, it's a the fall of man."

"He's probably no more depraved than he was when he started. Most of us are depraved in one way or another." "True, but this--I dare you to think it's a ridiculous prejudice, but to me, a man's body is holy. I don't like to see it being taken lightly and making it ugly." "What about a person's soul?" He stopped and stood with his hands on the stone railing of the embankment, staring straight at her. "A human soul?" she repeated, turning to look at him in wonder. He stretched out his hands suddenly, excited. "Did it ever occur to you that poor buffoon might have a soul—the soul of a living, struggling human being, tied to that twisted body, to be enslaved by it? You have mercy on all— You pity that body in fool's clothes and bells—have you ever thought of that wretched soul, that naked soul not even covered by colorful clothes? Think of it shivering in the presence of all, humiliating And misery choked it--felt the jeers like a whip--their wild laughter was like red irons on bare flesh! Think of it looking back--and helpless before all ——Because the mountain is unwilling to suppress it—Because the rock has no intention to cover it—Envy those mice who can escape into a certain hole to hide; Gotta put up, put up with, put up with. Oh! Look at me talking nonsense! Why on earth don't you laugh? You have no sense of humor!"

She turned away slowly, without saying a word, and continued walking along the river.It hadn't occurred to her all evening to connect his distress, whatever it was, with vaudeville.His sudden emotion gave her a dim glimpse of his inner life.She felt sorry for him, but couldn't find a decent word to say.He continued walking beside her, turning his head and looking down at the river. "I want you to understand," he began suddenly, with a kind of arrogance, "that everything I've just told you is pure imagination. I like to indulge in fantasy very much, but I don't like it to be taken seriously."

She made no answer, and they walked on in silence.As they passed the gates of the Uffizi Palace, he crossed the road and stopped in front of a black parcel leaning against the railing. "What's the matter, little one?" he asked, and she had never heard him speak so kindly. "Why don't you go home?" The "package" moved a little, whimpered and said something.Gemma walked over and saw a child of about six years old, in torn and dirty clothes, squatting on the pavement like a frightened animal.The Gadfly was stooping, with his hands resting on the disheveled head.

"What did you say?" He bent his body lower to hear the indistinct answer. "You should go home and go to bed, baby, don't go out at night, you'll freeze! Give me your hand, and jump up like a man! Where do you live?" He grabbed the kid by the arm and lifted him up.As a result, the child screamed and quickly retracted his body. "What's the matter?" asked the Gadfly, kneeling on the pavement. "Oh, ma'am, look here!" The child's shoulders and coat were stained with blood. "Tell me what's the matter?" the Gadfly continued in a friendly tone. "Didn't fall, did it? No? Did someone hit you? I think so! Who was it?" "My uncle." "Oh, yes! When?" "This morning. He was drunk and I, I—" "And you got in his way--didn't you? Boy, you shouldn't get in people's way when they're drunk. They don't like it. What are we going to do with this kid, ma'am? Boy, come into the light. Let I'll look over your shoulder. Put your arm around my neck and I won't hurt you. That's right." He picked up the boy in his arms, crossed the street, and set him down on the stone railing. Then he took out a pocket knife and deftly cut open the punctured sleeve.The child lay his head on his chest, and Gemma held the injured arm.The shoulder was swollen, and there was a deep knife wound on the arm. "It's outrageous to give you such a knife." Gadfly said while tying a handkerchief around the wound to prevent his coat from rubbing against the wound. "What did he do it with?" "The shovel. I asked him for a sourdough to get some porridge from the shop around the corner, and he hit me with the shovel." The Gadfly shuddered. "Hey!" He said softly, "Little guy, does it hurt?" "He hit me with the shovel - and I ran away - and I ran away - because he hit me." "Then you just wandered around without eating?" The child did not answer, but began to cry bitterly.The Gadfly lifted him off the rail. "All right, all right! It'll be all right soon. I wonder where I can find a carriage. I'm afraid the carriages are all waiting at the door of the theatre, and there's going to be a big show there tonight. I'm sorry, madam, to drag you on. But— —” "I'd rather go with you. You might need help. Do you think you can carry him there? Is he heavy?" "Oh, I can do it, thank you." They found only a few carriages at the entrance of the theatre, and they were all full of people.The show has ended and most of the audience has left.Posters were posted prominently bearing Zita's name, and she performed in the ballet.The Gadfly asked Gemma to wait for him, then went to the actor's exit, and spoke to a waiter. "Has Miss Lenny gone?" "No, sir," replied the man.He was a little bewildered to see a well-dressed gentleman holding a ragged street kid. "I see Miss Lenny is coming out, and her carriage is waiting for her. Yes, here she is." Zita came down the stairs, leaning on the arm of a young cavalry officer.She looks graceful, with a bright red velvet cape covering her evening dress, and a large fan woven from ostrich feathers hanging around her waist.She stopped at the exit, took her hand from the officer's arm, and walked in front of the Gadfly with a look of surprise. "Feliz!" she called softly. "How did you get here?" "I picked up this kid in the street. He's wounded and hungry. I want to get him back as soon as possible. I can't find a carriage anywhere, so I want to borrow yours." "Feliz! Don't bring a nasty beggar into your house! Get a policeman and tell him to take him to an asylum, or whatever suits him. You can't take all the beggars in town— " "He's wounded," repeated the Gadfly, "and if he must be sent to the Asylum, he can be sent to-morrow, but first I must take care of him and give him something to eat." Zita made a face of disgust. "You put his head against your shirt! How could you do that? He's filthy!" The Gadfly raised his head, and suddenly lost his temper. "He's hungry," he said angrily. "Don't you know what that means?" "Mr. Rivarez," interposed Gemma, coming forward, "my lodgings are not far from here. We'd better take the children there. If you can't find a cab later, I can Let him spend the night with me." He turned away quickly. "Do not you mind?" "Of course I don't mind. Good night, Miss Lenny!" The gypsy girl bowed stiffly and shrugged her shoulders angrily. She took the officer's arm again, raised her skirts, passed them, and got into the carriage that had caused the dispute. "If you want, Mr. Rivarez, I'll make it come back for you and the kid," she said, standing on the step. "Very well, I'll give him the address right now." He walked to the sidewalk, gave the address to the coachman, and returned to Gemma with the child in his arms. Katie was at home waiting for her mistress.When she heard what had happened, she ran to bring hot water and other things needed.The Gadfly put the child on the chair, knelt down beside him, skillfully took off the tattered clothes, bathed him, and bandaged the wound with gentle and skillful movements.He had just finished helping the boy with his bath and was wrapping him in a warm blanket when Gemma came in with a plate. "Is your patient ready to eat?" she asked, smiling at the strange child. "I've already done it for him." The Gadfly stood up and rolled up his dirty clothes. "I'm afraid we've made a mess of your room," he said. "As for these, they'd better be burned. I'll buy him some new clothes to-morrow. Have you got any brandy in the house, madam? I think he should Have a drink. If you agree, I'll wash my hands." Immediately after the boy had finished his supper, he fell asleep in the Gadfly's arms, with his shaggy head resting against the front of his shirt.Gemma helped Kitty tidy up the messy room, and sat down at the table. "Mr. Rivarez, you must eat before you go home—you haven't eaten much, and it's getting late." "I'd like an English tea if you had it. I'm sorry to keep you up so late." "Oh! It's all right. Put that kid on the couch, he'll tire you. Wait a minute, I'll put a sheet on the cushion. What are you going to do with him?" "To-morrow? Find out if he has any relatives besides that drunken rascal. If not, I reckon I'll have to take Miss Lenny's advice and send him to an asylum. Perhaps the most merciful thing would be on his neck." Hitch a stone and throw him in the river. But that would make me suffer unpleasant consequences. What a deep sleep! How unlucky you little boy--can't even be like a stray kitten protect yourself!" When Katie came in with the teapot, the boy opened his eyes and sat up with a bewildered expression.He recognized the Gadfly, and already considered him his natural protector.He twisted and got off the sofa, dragging the blanket to snuggle up against the Gadfly. Now he has full energy, asking this and that.Pointing to the disabled left hand, he asked, "What is this?" The Gadfly held a piece of cake in his left hand. "This? Cake. Would you like some? I see you are full. Wait till tomorrow, little man." "No—that!" He reached out to touch the severed finger and the big scar on the wrist.The Gadfly put down the cake. "Oh, it's this! It's the same thing that's on your shoulder—I was hit by someone bigger than me." "Does it hurt a lot?" "Oh, I don't know—it doesn't necessarily hurt more than anything else. Well, go to bed. It's late, so don't ask me anything." The child fell asleep again as the carriage drove up.The Gadfly picked him up gently without waking him, and went out to the stairs. "You look like a service angel to me today," he said to Gemma, stopping at the door. "But that won't stop us from having a lot of squabbling in the future." "I have no intention of arguing with anyone." "Ah! But I can. Life is unbearable without quarrels. A good quarrel is one thing, and far better than a vaudeville show!" Then he carried the sleeping child down the stairs and laughed.