NOBODY'S BOY (Sans Famille) - Hector Malot

[Chap XVI - XVIII]

CHAPTER XVI

THE PADRONE

Although I knew later how beautiful was the city of Paris, the slums,

being my first glimpse, created anything but a favorable impression.

Vitalis, who seemed to know his way, pushed through the groups of people

who obstructed his passage along the narrow street we had just turned

down.

"Mind, you don't lose me," cautioned Vitalis.

But his warning was not necessary, for I trod upon his heels, and to be

more sure of him I held a corner of his coat in my hand.

We crossed a big courtyard to a dirty, dismal house where surely the sun

had never penetrated. It was the worst looking place I had seen so far.

"Is Garofoli in?" asked Vitalis of a man who, by the light from a

lantern, was hanging rags against the door.

"I don't know; go up and see for yourself," he growled; "the door's at

the top of the stairs; it faces you."

"Garofoli is the _padrone_, Remi, I told you about," said Vitalis; "this

is where he lives."

The street, the house, the staircase was not in the nature to reassure

me. What would this new master be like?

Without knocking, Vitalis pushed open the door at the top of the stairs,

on the top floor, and we found ourselves in a large attic. There was a

great empty space in the middle of the room, and all around the walls

were beds, a dozen in all. The walls and ceiling that had once been

white were now filthy with smoke, dust, and dirt. On the walls was a

drawing of a head in charcoal and some flowers and birds.

"Are you there, Garofoli?" asked Vitalis; "it is so dark I can't see any

one. It's Vitalis."

A weak, drawling voice replied to Vitalis' question.

"Signor Garofoli has gone out; he will not be back for two hours."

A boy about twelve years of age came forward. I was struck by his

strange looks. Even now, as I write, I can see him as I saw him then. He

had no body, so to speak, for he seemed all legs and head. His great

head was out of all proportion. Built so, he could not have been called

handsome, yet there was something in his face which attracted one

strangely, an expression of sadness and gentleness and, yes ...

hopelessness. His large eyes held your own with sympathy.

"You are sure he will not be back for two hours?" asked Vitalis.

"Quite sure, Signor. That will be dinner time, and no one ever serves

dinner but Signor Garofoli."

"Well, if he comes in before, tell him that Vitalis will be back in two

hours."

"Very well, Signor."