THE BLACK ANGEL

 

Little Dick's mother had died. As for his father, he must have wandered in some antipodal sea; He had not been heard of for years. The family cared very little about this blond boy who was barely seven years old.

"To the orphanage!" Uncle Patridge decided.

Bridge, the nurse who had nursed Dick from the cradle, mourned the decision with almost every tear in her body.

"Tell me, Bridge," asked Dick, on the eve of the painful separation. Is everything you have told me about the Black Angel true?

Bridge bowed his head gravely. It was a very old Irish legend, in which everyone believed, in their country. And, being so, why didn't it have to be true?

"Then," said Dick, "when children are persecuted by giants, witches, and evil spirits, and call upon the Black Angel, does he really answer their call?"

"Certainly," replied Bridge. Always come to the aid of children who are in danger.

"Oh! Dick exclaimed. How happy I am! Now I'm no longer afraid to go to the orphanage.

The old nurse lifted her apron so that the child would not see her eyes.

* * *

M. Bry's orphanage seemed more like a prison for young delinquents than a charitable institution, where the little ones abandoned by their loved ones had to be made to forget their sadness.

The food was bad and scarce, the work was hard and the punishments extremely harsh.

M. Bry was a large man with bulging black eyes. His greed was surpassed only by his cruelty. The children who were entrusted to their "parental care" had to undo old ropes, glue paper, make the soles of slippers, just as if they were condemned to forced labor.

This meant to M. Bry a good deal of money, which he kept in a heavy iron casket in his room, and which he counted and recounted with morbid pleasure.

One day he entered surreptitiously, like a thief, into the workshop where the poor orphans were toiling; and his gloomy eyes fell upon young Dick, who, alas, was taking a little rest.

"Number 51, you don't do anything!" he shouted, furious.

"No, sir," replied the boy naively. He was looking at a mouse.

"A mouse, huh?" M. Bry howled. And that disgusting bug prevents you from working?

"It's a lovely little animal," said Dick, "and I like it very much.

"Well, not me!" roared the director. And I like pigeon peas even less!

He grabbed the child by the hair and pulled violently. "Ten lashes and six days in the cellar, on bread and water!" That was the sentence.

* * *

The cellars were teeming with mice, to which Dick threw breadcrumbs, which made them docile little animals.

Too bad the wounds on his back began to infest and make him suffer horrors.

The second night he spent in that horrible cellar, the fever caused all kinds of visions in his brain. He saw his mother returning from the corner store with lots of goodies. He saw Bridge...

Bridge! Ah, what a fool he had been not to call the Black Angel to his aid! But now he was going to do it. Yes, immediately!

"Dear Black Angel, my back hurts very much, and I feel very unhappy...

He didn't have to say anything else. He heard a door creak. An arrow of white light pierced through the darkness. The Black Angel stood in front of him.

* * *

It was certainly an impressive apparition. The supernatural being wore a very tight suit and a black velvet mask, whose holes filtered a terrible tiger gaze.

However, the boy did not experience the slightest fear.

He immediately began to tell her everything. He told her of his late mother, of his beloved Bridge, of the ill-treatment inflicted on him by M. Bry, and, finally, of his hope of seeing the Black Angel intervene.

"Very well, little one, I'm here to help you. Lead me to Bry's room!

The voice seemed too dry for an angel's, but Dick did not hesitate for a moment, and held out his little hand to the gloved hand of the mysterious personage.

* * *

That night, M. Bry had treated himself to a huge steak and a lobster salad, generously sprinkled with a wine of many proofs. That is why he thought he was the victim of a nightmare when a rough hand shook him to wake him up and a terrible voice ordered him to open his heavy chest.

"Hurry, you scoundrel!" roared the stranger.

M. Bry then understood that it was not a dream.

He obeyed and, choking a sob, saw his beloved treasure disappear in a large handbag.

The Black Angel was about to leave when his gaze fell on little Dick, who had observed the scene with an astonished but at the same time satisfied air.

The strange fellow leaned over Bry and growled:

"This is for the lashes, you rascal!"

M. Bry received a single punch to the head, but the blow was enough to unravel his brains.

"My son," said the mysterious being, "you have absolutely nothing to say about what you have seen, do you understand?"

"Of course, I won't say anything," Dick promised. But, dear Black Angel, will you kiss my mother with all your heart when she returns to heaven?

There was a long silence. Then, suddenly, Dick felt himself lifted by a powerful arm. He received a kiss on each cheek and felt something warm fall on his forehead.

"Why are you crying, dear Black Angel?" he asked.

But the Black Angel was gone, and the little boy found himself again in the cellar, where several mice were playing in the moonlight, which amused him greatly.

* * *

A new headmaster arrived, who was very affectionate with the children, but stern-looking men also appeared, who asked the orphans all sorts of questions about the late M. Bry.

But little Dick kept his promise and did not betray his beloved Black Angel.

 

END

 

Traducido por Paya Frank