I have been trying to
get work for Andriolo, since he has been well again, and able to
undertake it, but so far I have not been fortunate."
The Boy took a handful of gold from his pocket. "For the poor of your
parish, _mon pere_, if you will be good enough to accept it for them,"
said he, with great charm and simplicity of manner. The old priest
flushed with pleasure, saying that he had many poor, and was
constantly distressed because he could do so little. This would be a
Godsend. I glanced at the Italian, and saw that his weary, dark eyes
were fixed with a passionate wistfulness upon the gold. This look, his
whole appearance, bespoke poverty, yet he had deliberately refused
five thousand francs, a fortune to most men of his condition. Now that
he was vouched for by the priest, extreme curiosity took the place of
suspicion in my mind.
I hid the blue cap of the concierge behind my back, in the priest's
house, but the Boy saw it, and saw that I was drenched with rain. I
must have been a figure for laughter, but he did not laugh. "You see,
I was in a hurry," I excused myself, under a long, comprehending gaze
of his. "It's your fault if I look an ass."
"You didn't stop even to go and get a hat," he said. "You came out in
the rain just as you were, and you ran--I heard you running, behind
me. But--but of course it's because you're kind-hearted.
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