Feste Day in Naples

Italy, the land of sunshine! Its hills and valleys, churches and palaces are famous for their historic treasures. But when the sightseers arrive to view this birthplace of history they are annoyed on every hand by hoards of lazzaroni (beggars). Every one seems hungry for money.

Now that Guiseppe had possession of Pappina he felt himself in a fair way to appease his hunger, for, with all the poverty surrounding the splendid churches and palaces, the people of Italy are joyous and mirthloving, and give freely to those who amuse them.

For a couple of weeks after securing control of Pappina, Guiseppe reaped a harvest such as had never before been his fortune, while Pappina was having the very gayest time of her little life.

Every day she was quite as eager as Guiseppe to set forth, although they were in search of different things—Pappina coveting the smiles and applause of the lords and ladies who seemed to her like beings from another world, Guiseppe eager for gold.

Every morning they would start out for some new quarter of the city which was visited by tourists and held mysteries for Pappina. It meant money to have these foreigners admire the child. Every one stopped to listen to her. She was kept singing, dancing, here, there, and everywhere, it seemed to her. Many times she was willful, and would stubbornly refuse to obey Guiseppe.

"I'm tired of singing and dancing and being stared at," she would say, with a determined look on her little face that warned the man not to force her. "I've earned enough for to–day."

The child would always assert her independence when among people, and at a time quite impossible for Guiseppe to discipline her.

It is well that these two high–tempered people had Marta always with them. Often she was able to keep the peace when an outbreak threatened. Pappina loved her, and would listen to and obey her when no threats from Guiseppe could move her.

As the first Sunday in June drew near, preparations were begun for the Festival of the Constitution, the Italian Fourth of July; and to the nearness of this fete day Marta was indebted for many an opportunity to make the child forget Guiseppe when he showed an ugly temper.

Stores were draped with bunting. On all the principal streets arches were erected, and every man, woman, and child seemed to be preparing for it. Even Guiseppe made ready for the fete. Late one forenoon he took a sudden turn into the Corso Garibaldi and hurried down its broad walk at such a pace that even Pappina was almost breathless in trying to keep up with him.

"Where are you going now, Guiseppe?" she asked, seizing hold of him. "Is there a crowd some place, that you hurry so?"

Marta listened eagerly for a reply. It was a never–ending source of astonishment to her that Guiseppe would answer the child's questions without impatience; she, herself, rarely received a pleasant word from him.

"You see, bambina," the heavy–browed man graciously replied with a good–natured twinkle in his bright black eyes, "you are so fine since you have your red dress, old Guiseppe thinks he must get a new coat, and so we're on our way to Porta Nolana."

"But Marta bought my new dress over there in the shops, where there is everything in the world," exclaimed Pappina, waving her little hand over her shoulder.

"Ah, but I don't buy, I trade, little one. It's Rag Fair day."

"Rag Fair day," Pappina repeated, wrinkling her forehead. There were so many things to wonder about these days that she did not question him further, but trotted along by his side, until suddenly she found herself among a throng of chattering, bartering men and women, who were offering all kinds of garments for sale or exchange.

Guiseppe stopped and, handing the Punchinellos to Marta, stripped off his coat. Pappina stood with wide–open eyes and lips parted in amazement to see him offer his coat for a better one, with one franc—two—three—then five—and the exchange was made.

When at last Guiseppe donned his good coat, Pappina told him over and over again, to his amusement: "Guiseppe, you look just lovely."

"You like my coat, bambina?" he said. "Then come along. It takes money to buy good coats and bright red dresses."

Taking Pappina's hand, he strolled buoyantly away from the noisy Rag Fair, toward the Observatory, beyond which some of the wealthy Neapolitans have their homes.

Up the hilly streets they climbed. Pappina, darting ahead on explorations, would stop at each corner as she came to it and wait for Guiseppe and Marta.

"Keep your eyes open for a likely house where they will pay for entertainment," urged Guiseppe, who was as much a stranger in this new quest for money as was Marta.

At the two or three places at which they stopped the voice of the little girl rose through the heated afternoon air, but only a few soldi tinkled on the pavement.

If Guiseppe was disappointed he did not show any signs of it. He smiled calmly upon Pappina.

"We'll save your voice and strength for to–morrow, bambina. Not another song to–day. Come along, Marta. Old Guiseppe's getting to be a kind master, eh, Pappina?"

His was a selfish kindness. He knew the morrow's fete would prove a harvest to him, and since no one gave to–day, he thought best to let Pappina rest for the fete day's strain.

When the bright, beautiful fete morning dawned, Guiseppe was early astir.

"Come, Marta! Up, little one!" he exclaimed. "The day can neither begin too soon nor last too long for me."

"Nor for me," declared Pappina.

First they, with every one else, must go to mass in the handsome church San Francesco di Paola.

The thunder of guns from the vessels of war and the harbor batteries frightened Pappina. She held Marta's hand tightly and sometimes in her fear even Guiseppe's, but when she saw the militia she forgot the noise.

"Oh, I like the soldiers," she cried happily. It was the first military parade she had ever seen, and she wanted to follow the marching troops down the street and lend her cheers to those of the crowd.

How grand the carriages were! How gay the people looked, tricked out in all the magnificence they could command! Pappina, looking at the surging mass of holiday–makers, asked: "Marta, is the whole world here to–day?"

Days before the fete Pappina had been taught to sing the Garibaldi. Guiseppe knew well the effect the song would have upon the people. For years he had sung it himself on fete day, but that was before he had his Punchinellos, before his voice had grown thin and cracked. Time and again he had scolded Marta because neither she nor the puppets could sing the Garibaldi.

Now he had a child with voice and beauty. As they paused at a crowded corner where he thought it would be well to have her sing, he looked at her with satisfaction. He had talked to her so much of the applause and soldi she would win that she could scarcely curb her impatience to begin. Like a high–bred, prancing horse eager to run, she stood with her gayly decorated tambourine ready, anxiously waiting for Guiseppe to bid her sing. When he said, "Canta," she needed no second bidding. Wildly she struck her tambourine. Her voice rang out:

"Viva! Viva! Viva! Garibaldi!"

Such a din of applause! She could scarcely hear her own voice, but loudly she continued: "Viva! Viva! Victor Emanuel!"

She need not pass her tambourine to–day. She need not even stop to pick up the soldi as they rained upon her. That was Marta and Guiseppe's pleasant task.

"Bravo! Bravo! Encore! Encore!" the crowd shouted, and Pappina sang the song over and over again.

As one throng left for new sights and amusements another took its place, and so the tambourine was filled again and again. Yet Guiseppe kept her singing and dancing, dancing and singing. Never, it seemed to Marta, would he be satisfied to let the child rest.

The woman noticed with anxiety and pain the bright, feverish spots burning on Pappina's cheeks, and the unusual brilliancy of her great black eyes. Several times she made bold to ask Guiseppe if she might not take the child home, but Guiseppe replied only with glances of contempt and indignation at her interference.

Even the buoyancy of youth must give way to fatigue after a time, and Pappina's little limbs began to ache. She sat down to rest.

"Get up, girl. We must be moving," said Guiseppe.

Pappina arose.

"Take me home, Guiseppe," she begged, "I'm so tired." The request was ignored.

"There's a crowd up the street; come," was all the man said.

Pappina's bright eyes spied an empty carriage on the thoroughfare. All her little life since she could remember, she had longed for a ride in a carriage; here was her first chance for one and she grasped it.

"I'm too tired to walk, Guiseppe," she said quietly. "I'm going home now, and I'm going to ride, for I've earned lots of money to–day."

Guiseppe took no notice of the remark.

"Come on, I say!" he growled. "Don't you see that crowd? Come!"

"Guiseppe, I'm going home, and I'm going to ride, for I've earned lots of money to–day." Pappina repeated, stepping, as she spoke, into the carriage.

What was Guiseppe to do? They were still among a crowd of people who had poured soldi and soldi, even francs, into her tambourine. Should he attempt to discipline her and have a scene on this public, crowded thoroughfare? He looked savagely at Pappina seated in the carriage, her proud little head resting against the cushions like that of a princess. He could not doubt that she intended to ride. Should he humor her? He stood a moment in deep study. The people were smiling admiringly at the dainty child. Guiseppe knew their sympathy was with Pappina. He could not hide his anger.

"Confound her!" he muttered. "Get in, Marta," he commanded with an oath.

There is no knowing what, in his rage, Guiseppe would not have said and done had not Pappina fallen asleep almost immediately. It was poor Marta who was destined to feel the fury of his rage.

"She always takes advantage of me when I can't help myself," he began. "The upstart! Am I, Guiseppe, to give in to her, an imp raised in poverty and dirt?" He beat his hand on his breast. "Marta, I'll show her. I'll teach her who is master. I'll curb her temper. I'll conquer her or I'll die. Bah! Do you hear me? I say I'll conquer her or I'll die."

Marta certainly heard him and believed him as well. He had made her life a hard one, insisting upon having his own selfish way always. She was expected to know no wish that differed from his. No wonder he felt galled to find himself defied, forced to give in to a child who in years was scarcely more than a baby.

Marta was in constant fear that the little girl might awaken and that Guiseppe would be eager to fulfill his threat to show Pappina who was master. But Pappina slept on, even after the carriage had stopped in front of their home.

Marta took the tired little girl quickly and tenderly in her arms and put her to bed, her heart overflowing with a great motherly love as though Pappina were her very own. For a long time she sat by the child's side, to guard her from Guiseppe's anger. She could hear him in the adjoining room, pacing the floor like a lion in his cage. Then there was silence.

What now! Marta held her breath as she tiptoed to the door and peered through a crack to see what Guiseppe was doing. He had his money bag in his hand.

"Full! Full!" he exclaimed softly. He smiled grimly as he counted the coins. "Diavolo! she brings the money! Ten—twenty.—She's a gold mine, the vixen!—Thirty—forty.—I can afford to give in a little.—Fifty.—What spirit she has!—Sixty.—I could kill her at times, but—seventy–five—I'll be hanged if I don't like her!—Eighty.—Yes, I like her—temper and all."