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Yes, he would. He sat down by the corner of the fire and while eating his supper told us how the accident had occurred. Barberin had been terribly hurt by a falling scaffold, and as he had had no business to be in that particular spot, the builder had refused to pay an indemnity.
And then how is it they could spend so much money to find a child? Put all these things together and in my opinion you are not a Driscoll. You might write to Mother Barberin and ask her to tell you just what the clothes were like that you wore when you were found. Then ask that man you call your father to describe the clothes his baby had on when it was stolen. Until then I shan't move."
Upon hearing our voices Mother Barberin ran out. "I've brought some news from Paris," said the man. Something in the man's tone alarmed Mother Barberin. "Oh, dear," she cried, wringing her hands, "something has happened to Jerome!" "Yes, there is, but don't get scared. He's been hurt, but he ain't dead, but maybe he'll be deformed.
Vitalis had come to fetch me and it was so that Mother Barberin should not stop me from going that Barberin had sent her to the village. Knowing full well that I could expect nothing from Barberin, I ran up to Vitalis. "Oh, don't take me away. Please, sir, don't take me away." I began to sob. "Now, little chap," he said, kindly enough, "you won't be unhappy with me.
The jonquils were opening their golden petals; the birds were singing in the trees and on the hedges. Yes, and Mother Barberin was hanging out the clothes that she had just washed in the brook, which rippled over the pebbles. Then I left Chavanon, and joined Arthur and Mrs. Milligan on the Swan. Then my eyes closed again, my heart seemed to grow heavy, and I remembered no more.
After a time, I could not say how long, I heard some one coming over to my bed. The slow step was heavy and dragged, so I knew at once that it was not Mother Barberin. I felt a warm breath on my cheek. "Are you asleep?" This was said in a harsh whisper. I took care not to answer, for the terrible words, "I'll be angry" still rang in my ears.
I had not dared to leave the place where his stick had sent me. Leaning against the table, I looked at him. He was a man about fifty with a hard face and rough ways. His head leaned a little bit towards his right shoulder, on account of the wound he had received, and this deformity gave him a still more forbidding aspect. Mother Barberin had put the frying pan again on the fire.
Ah, I don't want to be hungry in Paris." "We'll dine all the better when we get to my parents'," I replied. "Well, let's work just as though we are buying another cow," urged Mattia. This was very wise advice but I must admit that I did not sing with the same spirit. To get the money to buy a cow for Mother Barberin or a doll for Lise was quite a different matter.
I was full of hope and joy and quite disposed to think kindly of Barberin; if it had not been for Barberin, I might have died of cold and hunger when I was a baby. It was true he had taken me from Mother Barberin to sell me to a stranger, but then he had no liking for me and perhaps he was forced to do it for the money. After all it was through him that I was finding my parents.
Notwithstanding all these defects, it is universally acknowledged to be one of the finest works that ever was written. When this book appeared at Paris, Cardinal Francis Barberin, who resided there as Legate from his uncle Pope Urbin VIII. hearing it much spoken of, was curious to see it; and read it with attention.
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