Life — June 19, 1884 — page 7: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

- LIFE: HE RUSHED TO THE NEAREST LAMP, The same night, also, Mimo scraped acquaintance with a Jew named Baron Bernardino. Bernardino was too eccentric a char- acter to be natural, and too malicious to be interesting, so his only claim on one’s attention was a certain air of mystery about him. This he effected by hinting that he was the ‘* Wandering Jew,” but he is a brute—is Bernardino, and, Pio Bancho! we will skip him. When Mimo discovered that the count had carried off Red- wig, he resolved to seek her and rescue her. To this end he started out to search all the capitals of Europe—never to rest un- til he found her. So he became a roaming singer, and left Mari- anna and I; but there was a bright side to his going, too—it saved me some expense. Vv. M IMO had been gone for some time, and he had searched Paris and even London, but had found no trace of his Redwig. He was beginning to despair. It was in this emer- gency that I determined to find her for him, myself ; and after several days of travel and numerous adventures, I had accom- plished my object. Her father had locked her up in the old cas- tle at Sorrentino, and now Mimo had joined me, and he was go- ing to carry her off. The Count was unsuspicious and felt se- cure. He never dreamt of a runaway match. That very morn- ing he had said to Bernardino: ‘My daughter is carefully guarded and watched. She is like a musk-melon.” “* How so?” asked Bernardino. “She cantalope,” replied Count von Fira. Upon hearing this classic pun, the Jew said nothing, but gave a long, low whistle.* Near midnight all was prepared. Redwig was waiting in her room for the signal. She had a few jewels, some old tin-types, anda volume of the “ No Name Series ” done up in a neat bun- dle. In the dining hall an old man sat at the table, eating. In the shadow of the donjon door stood the young singer, holding a * From the character of Bernardino we should judge that the whistle was about nine and a quarter inches long, and as low as they make them.—Ep. Lire. 343 long knife. Twelve o’clock sounded—above, the Count still eat on—beneath, the lover, stilletto. On a sudden the door was unlocked, and Redwig came forth. Mimo sheathed his knife and caught her in his arms. “‘Campanini !” he cried, ‘‘ you are mine at last.” “*Mimo mio!” murmured she, yielding to his embrace. For either of those two, there was no one else in the universe but the other. She was without a fear. No care disturbed the tranquil- lity of her joy ; she knew that her hat was on straight, and gave her whole soul up to her affection. Meanwhile, I was sitting on my jackass, waiting up the moun- tain for them, and it was very dark. Madonna mia, how fright- ened I was! Ina little while I discerned them approaching with a guide. “ L see a man,” ejaculated Redwig, as she caught sight of me, “T see a donkey,” said the guide. “Tt is Signor Brandi,” explained Mimo. ‘Well, then, who is the man?” asked Redwig. She has a faculty of being flippant under the most trying cir- MIMO SHEATHED HIS KNIFE AND CAUGHT HER IN HIS ARMS. How Mimo could ever fall in love with such an Allegretti! She could n't cumstances. ice-cream image I can not imagine. have me, At all events Mimo dd marry her, at last, and they went off together a few days afterwards, The day before they departed we had two unpleasant visitors. Bernardino dropped in to tell us he was an escaped lunatic, and the Count called in order to break up the furniture with me. I was too much forhim, though. As he would not leave, I lit one of my cigars. The Count is a brave man and can stand cannon smoke, but—Lonejacchoto Bacco !—one of my cigars—never ! This is all there is to Mimo’s story ; and I have told it to you not because it was true, but because I am so loquacious. I will not offer you a cigar, for I need all my own for myself ; but if you wish to know what has become of those two loving hearts and where they have gone, I will simply tell you what an old Italian proverb says: ‘* 7 ella quarto ne tutti frutti”—now you know. CARLSBAD. THE END. comicbooks.com