your country, Enrico. It is a grand and
sacred thing. May I one day see you return in safety from a battle
fought for her, safe,--you who are my flesh and soul; but if I
should learn that you have preserved your life because you were
concealed from death, your father, who welcomes you with a cry of
joy when you return from school, will receive you with a sob of
anguish, and I shall never be able to love you again, and I shall
die with that dagger in my heart.

THY FATHER.

ENVY.

Wednesday, 25th.

The boy who wrote the best composition of all on our country was
Derossi, as usual. And Votini, who thought himself sure of the first
medal--I like Votini well enough, although he is rather vain and does
polish himself up a trifle too much,--but it makes me scorn him, now
that I am his neighbor on the bench, to see how envious he is of
Derossi. He would like to vie with him; he studies hard, but he cannot
do it by any possibility, for the other is ten times as strong as he is
on every point; and Votini rails at him. Carlo Nobis envies him also;
but he has so much pride in his body that, purely from pride, he does
not allow it to be perceived. Votini, on the other hand, betrays
himself: he complains of his difficulties at home, and says that the
master is unjust to him; and when Derossi replies so promptly and so
well to questions, as he always does, his face clouds over, he hangs his
head, pretends not to hear, or tries to laugh, but he laughs awkwardly.
And thus every one knows about it, so that when the master praises
Derossi they all turn to look at Votini, who chews his venom, and the
little mason makes a hare's face at him. To-day, for instance, he was
put to the torture. The head-master entered the school and announced the
result of the examination,--"Derossi ten tenths and the first medal."

Votini gave a huge sneeze. The master looked at him: it was not hard to
understand the matter. "Votini," he said, "do not let the serpent of
envy enter your body; it is a serpent which gnaws at the brain and
corrupts the heart."

[Illustration: "THEN THE TROOP DARTED OUT OF THE DOOR."--Page 97.]

Every one stared at him except Derossi. Votini tried to make some
answer, but could not; he sat there as though turned to stone, and with
a white face. Then, while the master was conducting the lesson, he began
to write in large characters on a sheet of paper, "_I am not envious of