this terrified him almost. He
bent his ear, with suspended breath. He heard no sound. He laid his ear
to the lock of the door behind him--nothing. The whole house was asleep.
His father had not heard. He recovered his composure, and he set himself
again to his writing, and wrapper was piled on wrapper. He heard the
regular tread of the policeman below in the deserted street; then the
rumble of a carriage which gradually died away; then, after an interval,
the rattle of a file of carts, which passed slowly by; then a profound
silence, broken from time to time by the distant barking of a dog. And
he wrote on and on: and meanwhile his father was behind him. He had
risen on hearing the fall of the book, and had remained waiting for a
long time: the rattle of the carts had drowned the noise of his
footsteps and the creaking of the door-casing; and he was there, with
his white head bent over Giulio's little black head, and he had seen the
pen flying over the wrappers, and in an instant he had divined all,
remembered all, understood all, and a despairing penitence, but at the
same time an immense tenderness, had taken possession of his mind and
had held him nailed to the spot suffocating behind his child. Suddenly
Giulio uttered a piercing shriek: two arms had pressed his head
convulsively.

"Oh, papa, papa! forgive me, forgive me!" he cried, recognizing his
parent by his weeping.

"Do you forgive me!" replied his father, sobbing, and covering his brow
with kisses. "I have understood all, I know all; it is I, it is I who
ask your pardon, my blessed little creature; come, come with me!" and he
pushed or rather carried him to the bedside of his mother, who was
awake, and throwing him into her arms, he said:--

"Kiss this little angel of a son, who has not slept for three months,
but has been toiling for me, while I was saddening his heart, and he was
earning our bread!" The mother pressed him to her breast and held him
there, without the power to speak; at last she said: "Go to sleep at
once, my baby, go to sleep and rest.--Carry him to bed."

The father took him from her arms, carried him to his room, and laid him
in his bed, still breathing hard and caressing him, and arranged his
pillows and coverlets for him.

"Thanks, papa," the child kept repeating; "thanks; but go to bed
yourself now; I am content; go to bed, papa."

But his father wanted to see him fall asleep; so he sat down beside the
bed, took his hand, and sai