The master, quite pale, went to his table, and said in a constrained voice:—
“Who did it?”
No one replied.
The master cried out once more, raising his voice still louder, “Who is it?”
Then Garrone, moved to pity for poor Crossi, rose abruptly and said, resolutely, “It was I.”
The master looked at him, looked at the stupefied scholars; then said in a tranquil voice, “It was not you.”
And, after a moment: “The culprit shall not be punished. Let him rise!”
Crossi rose and said, weeping, “They were striking me and insulting me, and I lost my head, and threw it.”
“Sit down,” said the master. “Let those who provoked him rise.”
Four rose, and hung their heads.