Mark Twain - The Complete Short Stories of Mark Twain (Illustrated)

“To tell the truth, I was afraid you had, but it seems to look, now, like you hadn’t.” She stopped, and was evidently struggling with the difficult problem a moment, then she added in the tone of one who is convinced without being converted, “It seems so, but I can’t somehow tell why.”

Rowena thought Luigi’s retort was wonderfully quick and bright, and she remarked to herself with satisfaction that there wasn’t any young native of Dawson’s Landing that could have risen to the occasion like that. Luigi detected the applause in her face, and expressed his pleasure and his thanks with his eyes; and so eloquently withal, that the girl was proud and pleased, and hung out the delicate sign of it on her cheeks. Luigi went on, with animation:

“Both of us get a bath for one ticket, theater seat for one ticket, pew-rent is on the same basis, but at peep-shows we pay double.”

“We have much to be thankful for,” said Angelo, impressively, with a reverent light in his eye and a reminiscent tone in his voice, “we have been greatly blessed. As a rule, what one of us has lacked, the other, by the bounty of Providence, has been able to supply. My brother is hardy, I am not; he is very masculine, assertive, aggressive; I am much less so. I am subject to illness, he is never ill. I cannot abide medicines, and cannot take them, but he has no prejudice against them, and—”

“Why, goodness gracious,” interrupted the widow, “when you are sick, does he take the medicine for you?”

“Always, madam.”

“Why, I never heard such a thing in my life! I think it’s beautiful of you.”

“Oh, madam, it’s nothing, don’t mention it, it’s really nothing at all.”

“But I say it’s beautiful, and I stick to it!” cried the widow, with a speaking moisture in her eye.

“A well brother to take the medicine for his poor sick brother—I wish I had such a son,” and she glanced reproachfully at her boys. “I declare I’ll never rest till I’ve shook you by the hand,” and she scrambled out of her chair in a fever of generous enthusiasm, and made for the twins, blind with her tears, and began to shake. The boy Joe corrected her: “You’re shaking the wrong one, ma.”

This flurried her, but she made a swift change and went on shaking.

“Got the wrong one again, ma,” said the boy.

“Oh, shut up, can’t you!” said the widow, embarrassed and irritated. “Give me all your hands, I want to shake them all; for I know you are both just as good as you can be.”

It was a victorious thought, a master-stroke of diplomacy, though that never occurred to her and she cared nothing for diplomacy. She shook the four hands in turn cordially, and went back to her place in a state of high and fine exultation that made her look young and handsome.

“Indeed I owe everything to Luigi,” said Angelo, affectionately. “But for him I could not have survived our boyhood days, when we were friendless and poor—ah, so poor! We lived from hand to mouth-lived on the coarse fare of unwilling charity, and for weeks and weeks together not a morsel of food passed my lips, for its character revolted me and I could not eat it. But for Luigi I should have died. He ate for us both.”

“How noble!” sighed Rowena.

“Do you hear that?” said the widow, severely, to her boys. “Let it be an example to you—I mean you, Joe.”

Joe gave his head a barely perceptible disparaging toss and said: “Et for both. It ain’t anything I’d ‘a’ done it.”

“Hush, if you haven’t got any better manners than that. You don’t see the point at all. It wasn’t good food.”

“I don’t care—it was food, and I’d ‘a’ et it if it was rotten.”

“Shame! Such language! Can’t you understand? They were starving—actually starving—and he ate for both, and—”

“Shucks! you gimme a chance and I’ll—”

“There, now—close your head! and don’t you open it again till you’re asked.”

(Angelo goes on and tells how his parents the Count and Countess had to fly from Florence for political reasons, and died poor in Berlin bereft of their great property by confiscation; and how he and Luigi had to travel with a freak-show during two years and suffer semi-starvation.)

“That hateful black-bread; but I seldom ate anything during that time; that was poor Luigi’s affair—”

“I’ll never Mister him again!” cried the widow, with strong emotion, “he’s Luigi to me, from this out!”

“Thank you a thousand times, madam, a thousand times! though in truth I don’t deserve it.”

“Ah, Luigi is always the fortunate one when honors are showering,” said Angelo, plaintively; “now what have I done, Mrs. Cooper, that you leave me out? Come, you must strain a point in my favor.”

“Call you Angelo? Why, certainly I will; what are you thinking of! In the case of twins, why—”

“But, ma, you’re breaking up the story—do let him go on.”

“You keep still, Rowena Cooper, and he can go on all the better, I reckon. One interruption don’t hurt, it’s two that makes the trouble.”

“But you’ve added one, now, and that is three.”

“Rowena! I will not allow you to talk back at me when you have got nothing rational to say.”

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(After breakfast the whole village crowded in, and there was a grand reception in honor of the twins; and at the close of it the gifted “freak” captured everybody’s admiration by sitting down at the piano and knocking out a classic four-handed piece in great style. Then the judge took it—or them—driving in his buggy and showed off his village.)

All along the streets the people crowded the windows and stared at the amazing twins. Troops of small boys flocked after the buggy, excited and yelling. At first the dogs showed no interest. They thought they merely saw three men in a buggy—a matter of no consequence; but when they found out the facts of the case, they altered their opinion pretty radically, and joined the boys, expressing their minds as they came. Other dogs got interested; indeed, all the dogs. It was a spirited sight to see them come leaping fences, tearing around corners, swarming out of every bystreet and alley. The noise they made was something beyond belief—or praise. They did not seem to be moved by malice but only by prejudice, the common human prejudice against lack of conformity. If the twins turned their heads, they broke and fled in every direction, but stopped at a safe distance and faced about; and then formed and came on again as soon as the strangers showed them their back. Negroes and farmers’ wives took to the woods when the buggy came upon them suddenly, and altogether the drive was pleasant and animated, and a refreshment all around.

(It was a long and lively drive. Angelo was a Methodist, Luigi was a Free-thinker. The judge was very proud of his Freethinkers’ Society, which was flourishing along in a most prosperous way and already had two members—himself and the obscure and neglected Pudd’nhead Wilson. It was to meet that evening, and he invited Luigi to join; a thing which Luigi was glad to do, partly because it would please himself, and partly because it would gravel Angelo.)

They had now arrived at the widow’s gate, and the excursion was ended. The twins politely expressed their obligations for the pleasant outing which had been afforded them; to which the judge bowed his thanks, and then said he would now go and arrange for the Free-thinkers’ meeting, and would call for Count Luigi in the evening.

“For you also, dear sir,” he added hastily, turning to Angelo and bowing. “In addressing myself particularly to your brother, I was not meaning to leave you out. It was an unintentional rudeness, I assure you, and due wholly to accident—accident and preoccupation. I beg you to forgive me.”