Part 7 (1/2)

”Go away, boy! go, return home.”

And my father drew me out of the crowd, and said to me as we pa.s.sed along the street, ”Enrico, would you have had the courage, under similar circ.u.mstances, to do your duty,--to go and confess your fault?”

I told him that I should. And he said, ”Give me your word, as a lad of heart and honor, that you would do it.” ”I give thee my word, father mine!”

THE MISTRESSES.

Sat.u.r.day, 17th.

Garoffi was thoroughly terrified to-day, in the expectation of a severe punishment from the teacher; but the master did not make his appearance; and as the a.s.sistant was also missing, Signora Cromi, the oldest of the schoolmistresses, came to teach the school; she has two grown-up children, and she has taught several women to read and write, who now come to accompany their sons to the Baretti schoolhouse.

She was sad to-day, because one of her sons is ill. No sooner had they caught sight of her, than they began to make an uproar. But she said, in a slow and tranquil tone, ”Respect my white hair; I am not only a school-teacher, I am also a mother”; and then no one dared to speak again, in spite of that brazen face of Franti, who contented himself with jeering at her on the sly.

Signora Delcati, my brother's teacher, was sent to take charge of Signora Cromi's cla.s.s, and to Signora Delcati's was sent the teacher who is called ”the little nun,” because she always dresses in dark colors, with a black ap.r.o.n, and has a small white face, hair that is always smooth, very bright eyes, and a delicate voice, that seems to be forever murmuring prayers. And it is incomprehensible, my mother says; she is so gentle and timid, with that thread of a voice, which is always even, which is hardly audible, and she never speaks loud nor flies into a pa.s.sion; but, nevertheless, she keeps the boys so quiet that you cannot hear them, and the most roguish bow their heads when she merely admonishes them with her finger, and her school seems like a church; and it is for this reason, also, that she is called ”the little nun.”

But there is another one who pleases me,--the young mistress of the first lower, No. 3, that young girl with the rosy face, who has two pretty dimples in her cheeks, and who wears a large red feather on her little bonnet, and a small cross of yellow gla.s.s on her neck. She is always cheerful, and keeps her cla.s.s cheerful; she is always calling out with that silvery voice of hers, which makes her seem to be singing, and tapping her little rod on the table, and clapping her hands to impose silence; then, when they come out of school, she runs after one and another like a child, to bring them back into line: she pulls up the cape of one, and b.u.t.tons the coat of another, so that they may not take cold; she follows them even into the street, in order that they may not fall to quarrelling; she beseeches the parents not to whip them at home; she brings lozenges to those who have coughs; she lends her m.u.f.f to those who are cold; and she is continually tormented by the smallest children, who caress her and demand kisses, and pull at her veil and her mantle; but she lets them do it, and kisses them all with a smile, and returns home all rumpled and with her throat all bare, panting and happy, with her beautiful dimples and her red feather. She is also the girls' drawing-teacher, and she supports her mother and a brother by her own labor.

IN THE HOUSE OF THE WOUNDED MAN.

Sunday, 18th.

The grandnephew of the old employee who was struck in the eye by Garoffi's s...o...b..ll is with the schoolmistress who has the red feather: we saw him to-day in the house of his uncle, who treats him like a son.

I had finished writing out the monthly story for the coming week,--_The Little Florentine Scribe_,--which the master had given to me to copy; and my father said to me:--

”Let us go up to the fourth floor, and see how that old gentleman's eye is.”

We entered a room which was almost dark, where the old man was sitting up in bed, with a great many pillows behind his shoulders; by the bedside sat his wife, and in one corner his nephew was amusing himself.

The old man's eye was bandaged. He was very glad to see my father; he made us sit down, and said that he was better, that his eye was not only not ruined, but that he should be quite well again in a few days.

”It was an accident,” he added. ”I regret the terror which it must have caused that poor boy.” Then he talked to us about the doctor, whom he expected every moment to attend him. Just then the door-bell rang.

”There is the doctor,” said his wife.

The door opened--and whom did I see? Garoffi, in his long cloak, standing, with bowed head, on the threshold, and without the courage to enter.

”Who is it?” asked the sick man.

”It is the boy who threw the s...o...b..ll,” said my father. And then the old man said:--

”Oh, my poor boy! come here; you have come to inquire after the wounded man, have you not? But he is better; be at ease; he is better and almost well. Come here.”

Garoffi, who did not perceive us in his confusion, approached the bed, forcing himself not to cry; and the old man caressed him, but could not speak.

”Thanks,” said the old man; ”go and tell your father and mother that all is going well, and that they are not to think any more about it.”

But Garoffi did not move, and seemed to have something to say which he dared not utter.

”What have you to say to me? What is it that you want?”