Many things had happened of late that he
had not been able to understand. His mother, hitherto most attentive to his
sister and himself, had suddenly ceased feeding them with the nice soft
food they loved so well, at the same time refusing to cuddle them under her
warm breast.
He remembered vaguely hearing her impatiently coo to his father, that _he_
would have to look out for the fledglings, her duty was to the eggs. At the
time he hadn't understood what she meant by eggs, although once or twice he
had caught a glimpse of two white oval things under her breast which she
seemed to be dreadfully proud of.
It wouldn't have been so bad if his father had been as affectionate as
usual, but, on the contrary, he had treated his sister and himself as if
they were in the way, and it was easy to see Father Pigeon would have
greatly preferred crowding on the nest with his mate to getting food for
two greedy fledglings.
In fact, that was how the accident had happened. Chico had been so
unfortunate as to get in the way, with the result that he had been pushed
out and had fallen to the ground.
Poor little naked fledgling, he had shivered and huddled close to the
friendly column, for, even in summer, the breeze from the Adriatic often
blows fresh and cool.
He had just begun to wonder how he should get anything to eat, when
suddenly a shadow had come over him, causing him to crouch low in even,
greater terror, while his heart thumped horribly, but before he could utter
a sound he had been seized by a big warm hand, and a voice that was not
unkindly had exclaimed:
"Did the little pigeon fall from the nest?"
In the warm comfort of Paolo's hand the bird had forgotten his fear, and
his little heart had ceased to thump as he reflected this must be a human,
and his mother had always taught him that "humans" were kind to birds in
St.
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