“Good, all is going well now, let the rest come forwards; bravi, boys! Courage! I am extremely well satisfied.” And, in order to show us his contentment, and to exhilarate us, as he went out in haste, he made a motion of stumbling and of catching at the wall, to prevent a fall; he whom we had never seen laugh! The thing appeared so strange, that, instead of laughing, all remained stupefied; all smiled, no one laughed.
Well, I do not know,—that act of childish joy caused both pain and tenderness. All his reward was that moment of cheerfulness,—it was the compensation for nine months of kindness, patience, and even sorrow! For that he had toiled so long; for that he had so often gone to give lessons to a sick boy, poor teacher! That and nothing more was what he demanded of us, in exchange for so much affection and so much care!
And, now, it seems to me that I shall always see him in the performance of that act, when I recall him through many years; and when I have become a man, he will still be alive, and we shall meet, and I will tell him about that deed which touched my heart; and I will give him a kiss on his white head.
FAREWELL.
Monday, 10th.
At one o’clock we all assembled once more for the last time at the school, to hear the results of the examinations, and to take our little promotion books. The street was thronged with parents, who had even invaded the big hall, and many had made their way into the class-rooms, thrusting themselves even to the master’s desk: in our room they filled the entire space between the wall and the front benches. There were Garrone’s father, Derossi’s mother, the blacksmith Precossi, Coretti, Signora Nelli, the vegetable-vender, the father of the little mason, Stardi’s father, and many others whom I had never seen; and on all sides a whispering and a hum were audible, that seemed to proceed from the square outside.
The master entered, and a profound silence ensued. He had the list in his hand, and began to read at once.
“Abatucci, promoted, sixty seventieths. Archini, promoted, fifty-five seventieths.”—The little mason promoted; Crossi promoted. Then he read loudly:—
“Ernesto Derossi, promoted, seventy seventieths, and the first prize.”