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Updated: June 18, 2025
On the other hand, the public shall be amused a bit. This officer should be the means of bringing us some more money and, in the bargain, play the comic rôle in the piece that I shall prepare for him. Now, to-morrow, you are to go there alone with Pretty-Heart. You will arrange the ropes, and play a few pieces on your harp, and when you have a large audience the officer will arrive on the scene.
Who was going to applaud us? Capi certainly deserved to be celebrated, but I ... I was not at all convinced that I was a marvel. Although Pretty-Heart was very ill at this moment, when he heard the drum, he tried to get up. From the noise and Capi's barks, he seemed to guess that it was to announce our performance.
This was the first time that he had ever spoken to me about money. It was quite by chance that I had learned that he had sold his watch to buy my sheepskin. Now he told me that he had only fifty sous left. The only thing to do, he said, was to give a performance that same day. A performance without Zerbino, Dulcie or Pretty-Heart; why, that seemed to me impossible!
My master, who had gone down to the kitchen, soon returned, carrying a bowl of well sweetened wine. He tried to make Pretty-Heart drink a few spoonfuls, but the poor little creature could not unclench his teeth. With his brilliant eyes he looked at us imploringly as though to ask us not to torment him. Then he drew one arm from under the covers and held it out to us. I wondered what he meant.
What would become of us all if I fell ill, and what would become of me if I had Pretty-Heart to nurse? We found a sort of grotto between the stones, strewn with dried leaves. This was very nice. All that was lacking was something to eat. I tried not to think that we were hungry. Does not the proverb say, "He who sleeps, eats."
I cut the bread into five parts, as near the same size as possible, and distributed the slices. I gave each a piece in turn, as though I were dealing cards. Pretty-Heart, who required less food than we, fared better, for he was quite satisfied while we were still famished. I took three pieces from his share and hid them in my bag to give the dogs later.
Vitalis was covered well enough with his sheepskin and he was able to shelter Pretty-Heart, who, at the first drop of rain, had promptly retired into his hiding place. But the dogs and I had nothing to cover us, and soon we were drenched to the skin.
Pretty-Heart, who had probably guessed that this person wearing the spectacles was a physician, again pushed out his arm. "Look," cried Vitalis, "he wants you to bleed him." That settled the doctor. "Most interesting; a very interesting case," he murmured. Alas! after examining him, the doctor told us that poor little Pretty-Heart again had inflammation of the lungs.
He did not like this and soon got tired of dodging me; then, letting himself drop from branch to branch, he jumped straight onto his master's shoulders and hid himself inside his coat. It was a great thing to have found Pretty-Heart, but that was not all. Now we had to look for the dogs. It was day now and easy for us to see what had happened. In the snow we read the death of our dogs.
Pretty-Heart was asleep beside me, wrapped up in my coat; Zerbino and Dulcie were stretched at my feet. But my anxiety was greater than my fatigue. This first day had been bad; what would the next day be? I was hungry and thirsty, and yet I only had three sous. How could I buy food for all if I did not earn something the next day? And the muzzles? And the permission to sing?
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