“Oh, I thought that you would stay and that you would leave me,” he said.
I gave him a good slap, so as to teach him not to doubt me.
Mattia was quite able to look after himself now. While I was down in the mine he had earned eighteen francs. He was very proud when he handed me this large sum, for with the hundred and twenty-eight that we already had, this made a total of one hundred and forty-six francs. We only wanted four francs more to be able to buy the Prince’s cow.
“Forward! March! Children!” With baggage strapped on our back we set forth on the road, with Capi barking and rolling in the dust for joy.
Mattia suggested that we get a little more money before buying the cow; the more money we had, the better the cow, and the better the cow, the more pleased Mother Barberin would be.
While tramping from Paris to Varses I had begun to give Mattia reading lessons and elementary music lessons. I continued, these lessons now. Either I was not a good teacher, which was quite possible, or Mattia was not a good pupil, which also was quite possible; the lessons were not a success. Often I got angry and, shutting the book with a bang, told him that he was a thickhead.
“That’s true,” he said, smiling; “my head is only soft when it’s banged. Garofoli found out that!”
How could one keep angry at this reply. I laughed and we went on with the lessons. But with music, from the beginning, he made astonishing progress. In the end, he so confused me with his questions, that I was obliged to confess that I could not teach him any more. This confession mortified me exceedingly. I had been a very proud professor, and it was humiliating for me not to be able to answer my pupil’s questions. And he did not spare me, oh, no!
“I’d like to go and take one lesson from a real master,” he said, “only just one, and I’ll ask him all the questions that I want answered.”
“Why didn’t you take this lesson from a real master while I was in the mine?”