There Followed No Ill Result
That I Know Of, But The Paper Packet Lay Thenceforth Untouched, And,
On Leaving, I Made A Present Of It To My Landlady.
To complete the domestic group, I must make mention of the
"chambermaid." This was a lively little fellow of about twelve years
old, son of the landlady, who gave me much amusement.
I don't know
whether he performed chambermaid duty in all the rooms; probably the
fierce-eyed cook did the heavier work elsewhere, but upon me his
attendance was constant. At an uncertain hour of the evening he
entered (of course, without knocking), doffed his cap in salutation,
and began by asking how I found myself. The question could not have
been more deliberately and thoughtfully put by the Doctor himself.
When I replied that I was better, the little man expressed his
satisfaction, and went on to make a few remarks about the pessimo
tempo. Finally, with a gesture of politeness, he inquired whether
I would permit him "di fare un po' di pulizia" - to clean up a
little, and this he proceeded to do with much briskness. Excepting
the good Sculco, my chambermaid was altogether the most civilized
person I met at Cotrone. He had a singular amiability of nature, and
his boyish spirits were not yet subdued by the pestilent climate. If
I thanked him for anything, he took off his cap, bowed with comical
dignity, and answered "Grazie a voi, Signore." Of course these
people never used the third person feminine of polite Italian. Dr.
Sculco did so, for I had begun by addressing him in that manner, but
plainly it was not familiar to his lips. At the same time there
prevailed certain forms of civility, which seemed a trifle
excessive. For instance, when the Doctor entered my room, and I gave
him "Buon giorno," he was wont to reply, "Troppo gentile!" -
too kind of you!
My newspaper boy came regularly for a few days, always complaining
of feverish symptoms, then ceased to appear. I made inquiry: he was
down with illness, and as no one took his place I suppose the
regular distribution of newspapers in Cotrone was suspended. When
the poor fellow again showed himself, he had a sorry visage; he sat
down by my bedside (rain dripping from his hat, and mud, very thick,
upon his boots) to give an account of his sufferings. I pictured the
sort of retreat in which he had lain during those miserable hours.
My own chamber contained merely the barest necessaries, and, as the
gentleman of Cosenza would have said, "left something to be desired"
in point of cleanliness. Conceive the places into which Cotrone's
poorest have to crawl when they are stricken with disease. I admit,
however, that the thought was worse to me at that moment than it is
now. After all, the native of Cotrone has advantages over the native
of a city slum; and it is better to die in a hovel by the Ionian Sea
than in a cellar at Shoreditch.
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