"See! it shines in the dusk. It strikes me it's the only gold I shall
get in this town."
"Still it's nice, don't you think?" the girl whispered in his ear.
She had her arms round his neck.
"I love it," the boy said joyfully; "and you like my songs, don't
you?"
"Oh, yes, I like them very much, but I like you better."
The boy put her off roughly.
"You're as bad as the rest of them," he said indignantly. "I tell you
my songs are everything, I am nothing."
"But it was you who ate my supper, boy," said the girl.
The boy kissed her remorsefully. "But I wish you had liked me for my
songs," he sighed. "You are better than any silly old songs!"
"As bad as the rest of them," the boy said lazily, "but somehow
pleasant."
The shadows flocked to their evening meeting in the square, and
overhead the stars shone out in a sky that was certainly exceedingly
blue.
IV
Next morning they arrested the boy as a rogue and a vagabond, and in
the afternoon they brought him before the magistrate.
"And what have you to say for yourself!" said the magistrate to the
boy, after the second policeman, like a faithful echo, had finished
reading his notes.
"Well," said the boy, "I may be a rogue and a vagabond. Indeed, I
think that I probably am; but I would claim the license that has
always been allowed to singers."
"Oh!" said the magistrate. "So you are one of those, are you! And
what is your message!"
"I think if I could sing you a song or two I could explain myself
better," said the boy.
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