CHAPTER VI.


The Savoyard looked at me wistfully. I wished to enter into
conversation with him. That was not easy. However, I began.

Pisistratus.--"You must be often hungry enough, my poor boy. Do the
mice feed you?"

Savoyard puts his head on one side, shakes it, and strokes his mice.

Pisistratus.-"You are very fond of the mice; they are your only friends,
I fear."

Savoyard evidently understanding Pisistratus, rubs his face gently
against the mice, then puts them softly down on a grave, and gives a
turn to the hurdy-gurdy. The mice play unconcernedly over the grave.

Pisistratus, pointing first to the beasts, then to the instrument.--
"Which do you like best, the mice or the hurdygurdy?"

Savoyard shows his teeth--considers--stretches himself on the grass-
plays with the mice--and answers volubly. Pisistratus, by the help of
Latin comprehending that the Savoyard says that the mice are alive, and
the hurdy-gurdy is not.--"Yes, a live friend is better than a dead one.
Mortua est hurdy-gurda!"

Savoyard shakes his head vehemently.--"No--no, Eccellenza, non e morta!"
and strikes up a lively air on the slandered instrument. The Savoyard's
face brightens-he looks happy; the mice run from the grave into his