beautiful song; then the mayor spoke, and after him the
judge, who terminated his discourse by saying to the boys:--

"But do not leave this place without sending a salute to those who toil
so hard for you; who have consecrated to you all the strength of their
intelligence and of their hearts; who live and die for you. There they
are; behold them!" And he pointed to the balcony of teachers. Then, from
the balconies, from the pit, from the boxes, the boys rose, and extended
their arms towards the masters and mistresses, with a shout, and the
latter responded by waving their hands, their hats, and handkerchiefs,
as they all stood up, in their emotion. After this, the band played once
more, and the audience sent a last noisy salute to the twelve lads of
all the provinces of Italy, who presented themselves at the front of the
stage, all drawn up in line, with their hands interlaced, beneath a
shower of flowers.

STRIFE.

Monday, 26th.

However, it is not out of envy, because he got the prize and I did not,
that I quarrelled with Coretti this morning. It was not out of envy. But
I was in the wrong. The teacher had placed him beside me, and I was
writing in my copy-book for calligraphy; he jogged my elbow and made me
blot and soil the monthly story, _Blood of Romagna_, which I was to copy
for the little mason, who is ill. I got angry, and said a rude word to
him. He replied, with a smile, "I did not do it intentionally." I should
have believed him, because I know him; but it displeased me that he
should smile, and I thought:--

"Oh! now that he has had a prize, he has grown saucy!" and a little
while afterwards, to revenge myself, I gave him a jog which made him
spoil his page. Then, all crimson with wrath, "You did that on purpose,"
he said to me, and raised his hand: the teacher saw it; he drew it back.
But he added:--

"I shall wait for you outside!" I felt ill at ease; my wrath had
simmered away; I repented. No; Coretti could not have done it
intentionally. He is good, I thought. I recalled how I had seen him in
his own home; how he had worked and helped his sick mother; and then how
heartily he had been welcomed in my house; and how he had pleased my
father. What would I not have given not to have said that word to him;
not to have insulted him thus! And I thought of the advice that my
father had given to me: "Have you done wrong?"--"Yes."--"Then beg his
pardon." But this I did not dare to do; I was ashamed