He went to the window, and, looking out, saw a man putting up a great
bill with yellow letters, announcing that Madame Malibran would sing
that night in public.
"O, if I could only go!" thought little Pierre; and then pausing a
moment, he clasped his hands, his eyes lighted with a new hope.
Running to the little stand, he smoothed his yellow curls, and taking
from a little box some old, stained paper, gave one eager glance at his
mother, who slept, and ran speedily from the house.
"Who did you say was waiting for me?" said the madame to her servant; "I
am already worn out with company."
"It's only a very pretty little boy, with yellow curls, who said if he
can just see you he is sure you will not be sorry, and he will not keep
you a moment."
"O, well, let him come in!" said the beautiful singer, with a smile; "I
can never refuse children."
Little Pierre came in, his hat under his arm, and in his hand a little
roll of paper. With manliness unusual for a child, he walked straight to
the lady, and, bowing, said:
"I came to see you because my mother is very sick, and we are too poor
to get food and medicine. I thought, perhaps, that if you would sing my
little song at some of your grand concerts, may be some publisher would
buy it for a small sum, and so I could get food and medicine for my
mother."
The beautiful woman arose from her seat. Very tall and stately she was.
She took the little roll from his hand and lightly hummed the air.
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