Our Divine Bambino Boy

SARMATIAN DE CASPIANYA « BEZZARI – OUR DIVINE BAMBINO BOY »
our marrow. Like a galvanic battery it stirred our nerves. Startled, we halted to listen, when the
moon, sweeping aside the curtain of a lamb cloud, appeared in her luminary garb, casting the
reflex of her silvery beauty upon a sweet angelic face bathed in tears. Heavy straw-coloured
locks, disclosing the charming features of a most beautiful and feminine face, a face set in a
golden frame. Large violet eyes, shining through a bath of crystal tears, like a sapphire set in
diamonds; nose, chin, brow and neck so perfectly formed that we would have believed it a
statue chiselled by a renowned artist, rather than that of a human being. The shirt was ragged,
the trousers be yond redemption, held in place by a single cord that was fastened in front and
back over the left shoulder. A slouch hat of unmistakable aristocratic origin lay before the
charming figure upon the cold pavement, and the picture before us as we stepped nearer,
revealed to us a boy.
He might have been twelve years of age, he might have been less. The face was that of an
angel babe, and, therefore, beyond judgment as to years. As we looked at each other, his eyes
held us with their bewitching magic. The former electrification, which at first enchanted our
being, disappeared; and a feeling asserted itself like that with which two long lost friends meet
again.
"Who are you? What are you doing here? Why are you not at home or in an institution?" We
stammered these short sentences, betraying the foreigner.
The boy seemed to realize the poverty of our vocabulary, or the uncertainty of our grammar.
Judging us by our clothes, he quickly made his deductions, and we were surprised to have him
address us in the most select English: "I am not a beggar, sir, although my appearance may be
much against me."
"Come with us," was all we could say, and as we walked side by side we wondered what the
future had in store for us.
We have heard evil tongues by scores, reveal to us a certain condition of life we hoped never to
believe in. Thousands of waifs and semi-orphans were as common in Italy as locusts in Egyptthe
origin of the former largely attributed to repro bates and "tight-frocks," the latter not in the
least denying 'it; while mothers paraded their illegitimacy with pride. Shame! Thrice shame upon
us, to allow these suggestions of evil tongues to force themselves upon our mind at such a
moment and in the presence of so beautiful and innocent appearing child.
We had a square to walk, still thousands of ideas whirled through heart and mind, as whirl
countless worlds through ether. Another shock was about to vibrate our being, for in
approaching the porte-cochère, we involuntarily looked at the child beside us, when, to our
surprise, we found "his hand in mine." We must have walked thus, side by side, perhaps
unconsciously to either of us.
The porter seemed as if waiting for us, for ere we found the button, the door opened. There and
then the boy halted and said in a whisper: "Illustrious Sir, I am imposing: I can wait outside until
the Morning Mass."
"The Morning Mass? Do you go to Church?" we said, somewhat in a tremor.
"Only to get warm," he answered with a smile, "And to meditate upon the fall of man."
At such an answer all our scruples disappeared: and we assured him that all the apologies were
on our side.
III.
WHEN, with the first rays of sunlight peeping through our window-pane, we awoke, we heard
the landlady arranging for our breakfast in the adjoining room. By these maneuvers we knew
that we had overslept and felt greatly embarrassed, owing to the great sense of honour and
pride we still retained, 'in spite of vicissitudes. The boy must have passed through our room on
.L C H O E .
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