“Potztausend!” said the Starling, but in a very low, faint voice, as if he felt the rebuke; and well he might, for Fritz opened his little handkerchief and spread it over the cage--a sign of displeasure, which the bird understood well.
While Fritz was talking to the Curate, an old Bauer, poorly but cleanly clad, had drawn nigh to listen. Mayhap he was not overmuch enlightened by the Curate’s words, for he certainly took a deep interest in the Starling; and every time the creature screamed out its one expletive, he would laugh to himself, and mutter,--
He watched the bird till Fritz covered it up with his handkerchief, and then was about to move away, when, for the first time, a thought of the little boy crossed his mind. He turned abruptly round, and said,--
“And thou, little fellow!--what art doing here?”
“Waiting,” sighed Fritz, heavily--“waiting!”
“Ah, to sell thy bird?” said the old man;--“come, I’ll buy him from thee. He might easily meet a richer, but he’ll not find a kinder master. What wilt have?--twelve kreutzers, isn’t it?”
“I cannot sell him,” sobbed Fritz; “I have promised him never to do that.”
“Silly child!” said the Bauer, laughing; “thy bird cares little for all thy promises: besides, he’ll have a better life with me than thee.” “That might he, easily!” said Fritz: “but I’ll not break my word.”
“And what is this wonderful promise thou’st made, my little man?--come, tell it!”
“I told him,” said Fritz, in a voice broken with agitation, “that if the shadow closed over the street down there before any one had hired me, that I would open his cage and let him free; and look! it is nearly across now--there’s only one little glimpse of sunlight remaining!”
Poor child! how many in this world live upon one single gleam of hope--ay, and even cling to it when a mere twilight, fast fading before them!
The Bauer was silent for some minutes; his look wandered from the child to the cage, and back again from the cage to the child. At last he stooped down and peeped in at the bird, which, with a sense of being in disgrace, sat with his head beneath his wing.
“Come, my little man,” said he, laying a hand on Fritz’s shoulder, “I’ll take thee home with me! ‘Tis true I have no cattle--nothing save a few goats--but thou shalt herd these. Pack up thy bird, and let us away, for we have a long journey before us, and must do part of it before we sleep.”