The boy was left speechless. Then he stammered, "But I have no one here! I am alone!" and he offered the card. The steward took it, read it, and said surlily: "I don't know what to do for you. I'll give it to him when he returns a month hence." "But I, I am alone; I am in need!" exclaimed the lad, in a supplicating voice. "Eh? come now," said the other; "just as though there were not a plenty of your sort from your country in Rosario! Be off, and do your begging in Italy!" And he slammed the door in his face. The boy stood there as though he had been turned to stone. Then he picked up his bag again slowly, and went out, his heart torn with anguish, with his mind in a whirl, assailed all at once by a thousand anxious thoughts. What was to be done? Where was he to go?

From Rosario to Cordova was a day's journey, by rail. He had only a few lire left. After deducting what he should be obliged to spend that day, he would have next to nothing left. Where was he to find the money to pay his fare? He could work, but how? To whom should he apply for work? Ask alms? Ah, no! To be repulsed, insulted, humiliated, as he had been a little while ago? No; never, never more--rather would he die! And at this idea, and at the sight of the very long street which was lost in the distance of the boundless plain, he felt his courage desert him once more, flung his bag on the sidewalk, sat down with his back against the wall, and bent his head between his hands, in an attitude of despair.

People jostled him with their feet as they passed; the vehicles filled the road with noise; several boys stopped to look at him. He remained thus for a while. Then he was startled by a voice saying to him in a mixture of Italian and Lombard dialect, "What is the matter, little boy?" He raised his face at these words, and instantly sprang to his feet, uttering an exclamation of wonder: "You here!" It was the old Lombard peasant with whom he had struck up a friendship during the voyage. The amazement of the peasant was no less than his own; but the boy did not leave him time to question him, and he rapidly recounted the state of his affairs."Now I am without a soldo. I must go to work. Find me work, that I may get together a few lire. I will do anything; I will carry rubbish, I will sweep the streets; I can run on errands, or even work in the country; I am content to live on black bread; but only let it be so that I may set out quickly, that I may find my mother once more. Do me this charity, and find me work, find me work, for the love of God, for I can do no more!"

"The deuce! the deuce!" said the peasant, looking about him, and scratching his chin. "What a story is this! To work, to work!--that is soon said. Let us look about a little. Is there no way of finding thirty lire among so many fellow-countrymen?" The boy looked at him, consoled by a ray of hope. "Come with me," said the peasant. "Where?" asked the lad, gathering up his bag again. "Come with me." The peasant started on; Marco followed him.