Chapter XII. Only Two Boys

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

　　The words did elate him, and his blood was stirred by them everytime they returned to his mind. He remembered them through thedays and nights that followed. He sometimes, indeed, awakenedfrom his deep sleep on the hard and narrow sofa in Marco's room,and found that he was saying them half aloud to himself. Thehardness of the sofa did not prevent his resting as he had neverrested before in his life. By contrast with the past he hadknown, this poor existence was comfort which verged on luxury.He got into the battered tin bath every morning, he sat at theclean table, and could look at Loristan and speak to him and hearhis voice. His chief trouble was that he could hardly keep hiseyes off him, and he was a little afraid he might be annoyed.But he could not bear to lose a look or a movement.At the end of the second day, he found his way, at some trouble,to Lazarus's small back room at the top of the house."Will you let me come in and talk a bit?" he said.When he went in, he was obliged to sit on the top of Lazarus'swooden box because there was nothing else for him."I want to ask you," he plunged into his talk at once, "do youthink he minds me looking at him so much? I can't help it--butif he hates it--well--I'll try and keep my eyes on the table.""The Master is used to being looked at," Lazarus made answer."But it would be well to ask himself. He likes open speech.""I want to find out everything he likes and everything hedoesn't like," The Rat said. "I want--isn't thereanything--anything you'd let me do for him? It wouldn't matterwhat it was. And he needn't know you are not doing it. I knowyou wouldn't be willing to give up anything particular. But youwait on him night and day. Couldn't you give up something tome?"Lazarus pierced him with keen eyes. He did not answer forseveral seconds."Now and then," he said gruffly at last, "I'll let you brushhis boots. But not every day--perhaps once a week.""When will you let me have my first turn?" The Rat asked.Lazarus reflected. His shaggy eyebrows drew themselves down overhis eyes as if this were a question of state."Next Saturday," he conceded. "Not before. I'll tell himwhen you brush them.""You needn't," said The Rat. "It's not that I want him toknow. I want to know myself that I'm doing something for him.I'll find out things that I can do without interfering with you.I'll think them out.""Anything any one else did for him would be interfering withme," said Lazarus.It was The Rat's turn to reflect now, and his face twisted itselfinto new lines and wrinkles."I'll tell you before I do anything," he said, after he hadthought it over. "You served him first.""I have served him ever since he was born," said Lazarus."He's--he's yours," said The Rat, still thinking deeply."I am his," was Lazarus's stern answer. "I am his--and theyoung Master's.""That's it," The Rat said. Then a squeak of a half-laugh brokefrom him. "I've never been anybody's," he added.His sharp eyes caught a passing look on Lazarus's face. Such aqueer, disturbed, sudden look. Could he be rather sorry for him?Perhaps the look meant something like that."If you stay near him long enough--and it needn't be long--youwill be his too. Everybody is."The Rat sat up as straight as he could. "When it comes tothat," he blurted out, "I'm his now, in my way. I was his twominutes after he looked at me with his queer, handsome eyes.They're queer because they get you, and you want to follow him.I'm going to follow."That night Lazarus recounted to his master the story of thescene. He simply repeated word for word what had been said, andLoristan listened gravely."We have not had time to learn much of him yet," he commented."But that is a faithful soul, I think."A few days later, Marco missed The Rat soon after their breakfasthour. He had gone out without saying anything to the household.He did not return for several hours, and when he came back helooked tired. In the afternoon he fell asleep on his sofa inMarco's room and slept heavily. No one asked him any questionsas he volunteered no explanation. The next day he went out againin the same mysterious manner, and the next and the next. For anentire week he went out and returned with the tired look; but hedid not explain until one morning, as he lay on his sofa beforegetting up, he said to Marco:"I'm practicing walking with my crutches. I don't want to goabout like a rat any more. I mean to be as near like otherpeople as I can. I walk farther every morning. I began with twomiles. If I practice every day, my crutches will be like legs.""Shall I walk with you?" asked Marco."Wouldn't you mind walking with a cripple?" "Don't call yourself that," said Marco. "We can talktogether, and try to remember everything we see as we go along.""I want to learn to remember things. I'd like to train myselfin that way too," The Rat answered. "I'd give anything to knowsome of the things your father taught you. I've got a goodmemory. I remember a lot of things I don't want to remember.Will you go this morning?"That morning they went, and Loristan was told the reason fortheir walk. But though he knew one reason, he did not know allabout it. When The Rat was allowed his "turn" of theboot-brushing, he told more to Lazarus."What I want to do," he said, "is not only walk as fast asother people do, but faster. Acrobats train themselves to doanything. It's training that does it. There might come a timewhen he might need some one to go on an errand quickly, and I'mgoing to be ready. I'm going to train myself until he needn'tthink of me as if I were only a cripple who can't do things andhas to be taken care of. I want him to know that I'm really asstrong as Marco, and where Marco can go I can go.""He" was what he always said, and Lazarus always understoodwithout explanation." `The Master' is your name for him," he had explained at thebeginning. "And I can't call him just `Mister' Loristan. Itsounds like cheek. If he was called `General' or `Colonel' Icould stand it--though it wouldn't be quite right. Some day Ishall find a name. When I speak to him, I say `Sir.' "The walks were taken every day, and each day were longer. Marcofound himself silently watching The Rat with amazement at hisdetermination and endurance. He knew that he must not speak ofwhat he could not fail to see as they walked. He must not tellhim that he looked tired and pale and sometimes desperatelyfatigued. He had inherited from his father the tact which seeswhat people do not wish to be reminded of. He knew that for somereason of his own The Rat had determined to do this thing at anycost to himself. Sometimes his face grew white and worn and hebreathed hard, but he never rested more than a few minutes, andnever turned back or shortened a walk they had planned."Tell me something about Samavia, something to remember," hewould say, when he looked his worst. "When I begin to try toremember, I forget--other things."So, as they went on their way, they talked, and The Rat committedthings to memory. He was quick at it, and grew quicker everyday. They invented a game of remembering faces they passed.Both would learn them by heart, and on their return home Marcowould draw them. They went to the museums and galleries andlearned things there, making from memory lists and descriptionswhich at night they showed to Loristan, when he was not too busyto talk to them.As the days passed, Marco saw that The Rat was gaining strength.This exhilarated him greatly. They often went to Hampstead Heathand walked in the wind and sun. There The Rat would go throughcurious exercises which he believed would develop his muscles.He began to look less tired during and after his journey. Therewere even fewer wrinkles on his face, and his sharp eyes lookedless fierce. The talks between the two boys were long andcurious. Marco soon realized that The Rat wanted tolearn--learn--learn."Your father can talk to you almost as if you were twenty yearsold," he said once. "He knows you can understand what he'ssaying. If he were to talk to me, he'd always have to rememberthat I was only a rat that had lived in gutters and seen nothingelse."They were talking in their room, as they nearly always did afterthey went to bed and the street lamp shone in and lighted theirbare little room. They often sat up clasping their knees, Marcoon his poor bed, The Rat on his hard sofa, but neither of themconscious either of the poorness or hardness, because to each onethe long unknown sense of companionship was such a satisfyingthing. Neither of them had ever talked intimately to anotherboy, and now they were together day and night. They revealedtheir thoughts to each other; they told each other things it hadnever before occurred to either to think of telling any one. Infact, they found out about themselves, as they talked, thingsthey had not quite known before. Marco had gradually discoveredthat the admiration The Rat had for his father was an impassionedand curious feeling which possessed him entirely. It seemed toMarco that it was beginning to be like a sort of religion. Heevidently thought of him every moment. So when he spoke ofLoristan's knowing him to be only a rat of the gutter, Marco felthe himself was fortunate in remembering something he could say."My father said yesterday that you had a big brain and a strongwill," he answered from his bed. "He said that you had awonderful memory which only needed exercising. He said it afterhe looked over the list you made of the things you had seen inthe Tower."The Rat shuffled on his sofa and clasped his knees tighter."Did he? Did he?" he said.He rested his chin upon his knees for a few minutes and staredstraight before him. Then he turned to the bed."Marco," he said, in a rather hoarse voice, a queer voice;"are you jealous?""Jealous," said Marco; "why?""I mean, have you ever been jealous? Do you know what it islike?""I don't think I do," answered Marco, staring a little."Are you ever jealous of Lazarus because he's always with yourfather--because he's with him oftener than you are--and knowsabout his work--and can do things for him you can't? I mean, areyou jealous of--your father?"Marco loosed his arms from his knees and lay down flat on hispillow."No, I'm not. The more people love and serve him, the better,"he said. "The only thing I care for is--is him. I just carefor him. Lazarus does too. Don't you?"The Rat was greatly excited internally. He had been thinking ofthis thing a great deal. The thought had sometimes terrifiedhim. He might as well have it out now if he could. If he couldget at the truth, everything would be easier. But would Marcoreally tell him?"Don't you mind?" he said, still hoarse and eager--"don't youmind how much I care for him? Could it ever make you feelsavage? Could it ever set you thinking I was nothing but--what Iam--and that it was cheek of me to push myself in and fasten onto a gentleman who only took me up for charity? Here's theliving truth," he ended in an outburst; "if I were you and youwere me, that's what I should be thinking. I know it is. Icouldn't help it. I should see every low thing there was in you,in your manners and your voice and your looks. I should seenothing but the contrast between you and me and between you andhim. I should be so jealous that I should just rage. I shouldhate you--and I should despise you!"He had wrought himself up to such a passion of feeling that heset Marco thinking that what he was hearing meant strange andstrong emotions such as he himself had never experienced. TheRat had been thinking over all this in secret for some time, itwas evident. Marco lay still a few minutes and thought it over.Then he found something to say, just as he had found somethingbefore."You might, if you were with other people who thought in thesame way," he said, "and if you hadn't found out that it issuch a mistake to think in that way, that it's even stupid. But,you see, if you were I, you would have lived with my father, andhe'd have told you what he knows--what he's been finding out allhis life.""What's he found out?""Oh!" Marco answered, quite casually, "just that you can't setsavage thoughts loose in the world, any more than you can letloose savage beasts with hydrophobia. They spread a sort ofrabies, and they always tear and worry you first of all.""What do you mean?" The Rat gasped out."It's like this," said Marco, lying flat and cool on his hardpillow and looking at the reflection of the street lamp on theceiling. "That day I turned into your Barracks, without knowingthat you'd think I was spying, it made you feel savage, and youthrew the stone at me. If it had made me feel savage and I'drushed in and fought, what would have happened to all of us?"The Rat's spirit of generalship gave the answer."I should have called on the Squad to charge with fixedbayonets. They'd have half killed you. You're a strong chap,and you'd have hurt a lot of them."A note of terror broke into his voice. "What a fool I shouldhave been!" he cried out. "I should never have come here! Ishould never have known him!" Even by the light of the streetlamp Marco could see him begin to look almost ghastly."The Squad could easily have half killed me," Marco added."They could have quite killed me, if they had wanted to do it.And who would have got any good out of it? It would only havebeen a street- lads' row--with the police and prison at the endof it.""But because you'd lived with him," The Rat pondered, "youwalked in as if you didn't mind, and just asked why we did it,and looked like a stronger chap than any of us--anddifferent--different. I wondered what was the matter with you,you were so cool and steady. I know now. It was because youwere like him. He'd taught you. He's like a wizard.""He knows things that wizards think they know, but he knows thembetter," Marco said. "He says they're not queer and unnatural.They're just simple laws of nature. You have to be either on oneside or the other, like an army. You choose your side. Youeither build up or tear down. You either keep in the light whereyou can see, or you stand in the dark and fight everything thatcomes near you, because you can't see and you think it's anenemy. No, you wouldn't have been jealous if you'd been I andI'd been you.""And you're not?" The Rat's sharp voice was almost hollow."You'll swear you're not?""I'm not," said Marco.The Rat's excitement even increased a shade as he poured forthhis confession."I was afraid," he said. "I've been afraid every day since Icame here. I'll tell you straight out. It seemed just naturalthat you and Lazarus wouldn't stand me, just as I wouldn't havestood you. It seemed just natural that you'd work together tothrow me out. I knew how I should have worked myself. Marco--Isaid I'd tell you straight out--I'm jealous of you. I'm jealousof Lazarus. It makes me wild when I see you both knowing allabout him, and fit and ready to do anything he wants done. I'mnot ready and I'm not fit.""You'd do anything he wanted done, whether you were fit andready or not," said Marco. "He knows that.""Does he? Do you think he does?" cried The Rat. "I wish he'dtry me. I wish he would."Marco turned over on his bed and rose up on his elbow so that hefaced The Rat on his sofa."Let us wait," he said in a whisper. "Let us wait."There was a pause, and then The Rat whispered also."For what?""For him to find out that we're fit to be tried. Don't you seewhat fools we should be if we spent our time in being jealous,either of us. We're only two boys. Suppose he saw we were onlytwo silly fools. When you are jealous of me or of Lazarus, justgo and sit down in a still place and think of him. Don't thinkabout yourself or about us. He's so quiet that to think abouthim makes you quiet yourself. When things go wrong or when I'mlonely, he's taught me to sit down and make myself think ofthings I like--pictures, books, monuments, splendid places. Itpushes the other things out and sets your mind going properly.He doesn't know I nearly always think of him. He's the bestthought himself. You try it. You're not really jealous. Youonly think you are. You'll find that out if you always stopyourself in time. Any one can be such a fool if he lets himself.And he can always stop it if he makes up his mind. I'm notjealous. You must let that thought alone. You're not jealousyourself. Kick that thought into the street."The Rat caught his breath and threw his arms up over his eyes."Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" he said; "if I'd lived near him alwaysas you have. If I just had.""We're both living near him now," said Marco. "And here'ssomething to think of," leaning more forward on his elbow."The kings who were being made ready for Samavia have waited allthese years; we can make ourselves ready and wait so that, ifjust two boys are wanted to do something--just two boys--we canstep out of the ranks when the call comes and say `Here!' Nowlet's lie down and think of it until we go to sleep."