.

"Do your dogs eat bread?" asked Arthur.

"Do they eat bread!"

I gave them a piece which they devoured ravenously.

"And the monkey?" said Arthur.

But there was no occasion to worry about Pretty-Heart, for while I was
serving the dogs he had taken a piece of crust from a meat pie and was
almost choking himself underneath the table. I helped myself to the pie
and, if I did not choke like Pretty-Heart, I gobbled it up no less
gluttonously than he.

"Poor, poor child!" said the lady.

Arthur said nothing, but he looked at us with wide open eyes, certainly
amazed at our appetites, for we were all as famished as one another,
even Zerbino, who should have been somewhat appeased by the meat that he
had stolen.

"What would you have eaten to-night if you had not met us?" asked
Arthur.

"I don't think we should have eaten at all."

"And to-morrow?"

"Perhaps to-morrow we should have had the luck to meet some one like we
have to-day."

Arthur then turned to his mother. For some minutes they spoke together
in a foreign language. He seemed to be asking for something which at
first she seemed not quite willing to grant. Then, suddenly, the boy
turned his head. His body did not move.

"Would you like to stay with us?" he asked.

I looked at him without replying; I was so taken back by the question.

"My son wants to know if you would like to stay with us?" repeated the
lady.

"On this boat?"

"Yes, my little boy is ill and he is obliged to be strapped to this
board. So that the days will pass more pleasantly for him, I take him
about in this boat. While your master is in prison, if you like, you may
stay here with us. Your dogs and your monkey can give a performance
every day, and Arthur and I will be the audience. You can play your harp
for us. You will be doing us a service and we, on our side, may be
useful to you."

To live on a boat! What a kind lady. I did not know what to say. I took
her hand and kissed it.

"Poor little boy!" she said, almost tenderly.

She had said she would like me to play my harp: this simple pleasure I
would give her at once. I wanted to show how grateful I was. I took my
instrument and, going to the end of the boat, I commenced to play
softly. The lady put a little silver whistle to her lips and blew it.

I stopped playing, wondering why she had whistled. Was it to tell me
that I was playing badly, or to ask me to stop? Arthur, who saw
everything that passed around him,