Richards Laura Elizabeth Howe - Honor Bright стр 25.

What what will you do when they are both married, Zitli? Honor spoke slowly; her eyes were shining as they did when she saw visions.

Me? Zitli gave his quaint shrug. If Madelon makes good pancakes, I remain here for a time! If not, I go with Gretli. It is not far, to big Pierres, only the next Alp. By and by, when I am a man he paused; his eyes too shone, as he looked straight before him. He too saw visions.

Honor felt a shock; felt the blood rising to her cheeks. She had never thought of the possibility of Zitlis growing up. It had seemed as if he must always be as he was now.

I

shall not marry! the boy announced, and shook his head decidedly. No! Love, that makes trouble! Not though maidens in rows besought me!

Again he swept his arm; Honor had an instants vision of ranks of kneeling maidens with outstretched arms, imploring; she laughed outright.

How funny you are, Zitli! What will you do?

I shall make musical-boxes!

Zitli spoke rapidly and decidedly; his supple hands shaped the boxes as he spoke. His plans were evidently well matured.

Mademoiselle has seen musical boxes in Vevay? Long, thus? Round, thus? Again, square, thus, with perhaps a dancing figure on the top? Naturally! When I am sixteen, I go to Vevay to learn that trade. Already I can make the cases, of course; that is for a child; the inside, that requires instruction, hein ? I am apprenticed to M. Morus, it is the uncle of Big Pierre; Margoton by then has married her cheese-merchant, I lodge with them.

Honor interrupted him.

How then? Margoton marries a cheese-merchant?

Never in her life, she thought, had she heard so much of marrying and giving in marriage. At Madame Madeleines, one did not marry. And what would they do without Margoton?

But naturally! Zitli shrugged and smiled. The world marries, is it not so? Only not I! If the good God had designed it, he would not have suffered me to fall down the Alp.

Oh, Zitli! was that how did But perhaps youd rather not talk about it! Honors cheeks were crimson, her eyes dark and brimming with tears of sympathy.

Zitli cocked his head with a whimsical glance. But yes! Why not, when that springs to the eye? I was little, see you, mademoiselle, little like a young cat, and I would go hunting chamois with Brother Atli. I ran away, without knowledge of my sister, well aware she would forbid; our parents were already with the saints. I had a little stick which I called my gun; I thought if I said, Bang! loud enough, the chamois would fall dead. I creep, I run, I follow my brother, wholly without noise, you understand; he has no knowledge of me. He comes to a steep crag; above behold! a herd of chamois go bounding! He mounts, strong, strong, himself a goat. I follow; my foot slips; I fall! et voilà!

Honor shuddered, and covered her eyes with her hands.

And and then?

Then? For a while I knew nothing. My brother hears my cry as I fall; he descends, picks me up, brings me home. My faith, I was well served, mademoiselle; but those two the boys gay voice faltered a moment, but only a moment. Me, I would have whipped that little rascal well! he cried. But they are different, my brother and sister. Never one word, mademoiselle, to reproach or rebuke me; never one word! All to help, to care for, to spend their money ah! finally, that is not to speak of. To be a saint, it needs not always to be dead, hein ? In my calendar with reverence be it said are always St. Atli and St. Gretli.

Honor was silent. She felt that it was a very rare thing for Zitli to show his feelings thus. His gay smiling way was the one which best enabled him to bear what he had to bear. She laid her hand on his arm a moment; he nodded.

Thanks, mademoiselle! he said briefly. To return! Once I am perfect in the insides

What do you mean, Zitli? Honor wiped her eyes furtively, and tried to speak as cheerily as the boy did. Was there some internal injury as well as

Zitli stared. The insides of the musical boxes, naturally! What else, mademoiselle? Once I am perfect, I return to my Alps, since boxes may be made equally there, and nowhere else would life be agreeable to me. I think he knit his brows, and spoke slowly, as if considering; I think to build a châlet small, you understand, for one person though there would be room for a guest always I paint it green, the outside. That blends with the trees, you understand. The stones on the roof I paint white. That is contrast, variety. Inside, all is white, white as La Dumaine or that wicked Séraphine. Look, but look, mademoiselle! even now she tumbles poor Nanni over, her own aunt. Go, thou villain!

He threw a stick at Séraphine, who bounded into the air with a shrill bleat and disappeared around the corner of the barn.

There I live. Gretli has taught me to cook. I have the books that the good priest gave me, three or four magnificent books. There are none like them in this Alp. I have my tools, my zither, my mountains about me. I am happy as the day is long. Ah, that is a life to look forward to always since the brother and sister must marry. That is natural, is it not so? But see, Gretli waves to us. It is to see her in her fine dress before Pierre comes.