Picture Play Magazine (Oct-Nov 1915)

PICTURE-PLAY WEEKLY 17 . and strong in his heart my old mind tells ,>ne from his eye — and that is revenge, bod grant he change! They say people are colder in their feelings in the •North." Then old Anselmo began to pound a shoe sole and pray at the same time ifor the safety of Giuseppe, the hand!some, stricken soul of a man, that he harm not, and should not be harmed. In truth, that England in November proved to be a country beyond words cold and foggy and wet for Giuseppe, who knew the sky only in sunshine or fleeting clouds. He did not prosper in those dark and ominous streets, where so many have found only the thoroughfare to death or prison, and so few to the wealth and luxury that wheels down upon the beggar at every crossing. But if Giuseppe had only been of a hardier constitution he might have stood the strain of the terrible winter. Instead, all his savings went for nursing, doctor bills, and his bare means of living while he could not earn a cent. But spring comes ever radiant in England as it does in the gloomiest human heart. And the primroses and greensward of London parks found Giuseppe reborn — older, but kindling with new life and the old revenge. To be sure, he was not a waiter in one of the big hotels, as he had hoped to be. His English had been sadly neglected, his clothes used up. And a waiter needs a dress suit as infallibly as does a gentleman. Yet there was one thing Giuseppe could do : He could speak to his own people. With it he could find a meaner, but sure, mode of existence. At an exorbitant rate of payment he secured a barrel organ to play in the streets. If he were lucky, and lived long enough, he would own that organ by the pennies he picked up from people who wanted him to clear away from the front of their house. They thought they knew and liked music. He knew the horrible singsong sameness he was grinding out. They did not know how sweetly Maria used to sing to him in her modest, clear voice when he played the mandolin for her so delicately night after night under the listening blue skies and attentive stars in the old days, before the end of the world happened to him alone — and not to every one. But fate favors the fighter, not the skulker. So thought Giuseppe one day, and he knew he was right. A very beautiful woman and a man of most distinguished appearance were entering a limousine car in front of a street in Mayfair. Only the servants tossed him a coin here — but there were many who were generous. On this occasion, however, the lady opened a large gold bag, and, taking out a gold chain purse of the same texture of chain, tossed a half sovereign toward the organ grinder. He saw its yellow gleam in the air, and slung the organ over his shoulder in the midst of "Trovatore," as though the machine were a toy. At the same time, he saw the distinguished man of rather foreign appearance become enraged at the lady for her common act of charity. She was quiet, but flustered. The man was whipping himself into a rage, as he fairly yelled at the chauffeur to hurry away. In the gutter, Giuseppe picked up the half sovereign from the mud, and looked along the curb hopefully, to see if there might not have been two thrown by the great lad}'. Otherwise why should the man have been so mad? But he found no second half sovereign. Instead, he found the larger gold bag of the lady which had contained her purse, and which in her excitement at the outburst of the gentleman she had dropped. It was all gold thread, as fine as lace in the mesh, and heavy, though empty, save for a card. Giuseppe, at the hotel in Italy, had often seen such bags — large as a blacksmith's hand. Only the rich carried them. But the card interested him more. On it was engraved : "Lady Lumley, 6 Curzon Street, Mayfair, London." Giuseppe made a good guess that the bag was worth about one hundred or one hundred and fifty dollars. The latter was his whole capital on coming to London. Sickness and the winter destroyed it. The chance irritation of a distinguished man and his beautiful lady put the equivalent back in his hand as if by magic. He was standing in the street like a man daft, with his organ slung over his shoulder, when a policeman appeared. Giuseppe rested the organ on its staff again and began to wind out the remaining bars of "Trovatore." The policeman passed. Another man appeared. He also was distinguished — a rich man — but grave and slow. He looked at Giuseppe as though the music grated on his nerves. He glared so severely that Giuseppe's arm slackened in its mechanical rotary motion. Meanwhile the man ascended the step of No. 6 Curzon Street. From his pocket he took a key and opened the door, without ringing for the servant. But the servant in livery and powdered wig appeared almost ere the key turned in the door. Up the steps rushed Giuseppe, still grinding his organ. The man at the door turned sharply, and the servant stepped out as if to drive the Italian away. "What do you want?" The grave gentleman asked the question, and, at the sound of his voice, his servant halted. "Nothing," Giuseppe replied faintly, as he pulled out the gold mesh bag. Forgetting himself, he cried in Italian quickly : "I found it in the street. The lady threw me money. The man did not like she do it. In the bag is the card of the lady of this address " "Stop, stop, you fool !" said the grave English gentleman in perfect Italian, to Giuseppe. Then he muttered something to the powdered English servant, who disappeared in the depths of the hall. The master of No. 6 Curzon Street then turned to Giuseppe : "How long have you been in the street with that instrument?" "A few weeks." Giuseppe was afraid, but relieved to talk with an Englishman who could talk Italian so wonderfully plain. "I am a waiter — I came to London — but the weather and all that — I have been sick." "Who was this man the woman was with — what did he look like?" asked Lord Lumley, for it was he, the husband of the woman. "I did not like look at him. I looked at the money that flew in the street. He was Lord Lumley, I suppose — but not so English, even if he had no beard, like the many lords in our country." Lord Lumley motioned for Giuseppe to follow him into the house. When they were in the library, the lord turned to one of the two servants in the room. "Take that organ away from him."