er, showing him the other packages; "these are
my reminiscences. Each year I laid aside one piece of work of each of my
pupils; and they are all here, dated and arranged in order. Every time
that I open them thus, and read a line here and there, a thousand things
recur to my mind, and I seem to be living once more in the days that are
past. How many of them have passed, my dear sir! I close my eyes, and I
see behind me face after face, class after class, hundreds and hundreds
of boys, and who knows how many of them are already dead! Many of them I
remember well. I recall distinctly the best and the worst: those who
gave me the greatest pleasure, and those who caused me to pass sorrowful
moments; for I have had serpents, too, among that vast number! But now,
you understand, it is as though I were already in the other world, and I
love them all equally."

He sat down again, and took one of my hands in his.

"And tell me," my father said, with a smile, "do you not recall any
roguish tricks?"

"Of yours, sir?" replied the old man, also with a smile. "No; not just
at this moment. But that does not in the least mean that you never
played any. However, you had good judgment; you were serious for your
age. I remember the great affection of your mother for you. But it is
very kind and polite of you to have come to seek me out. How could you
leave your occupations, to come and see a poor old schoolmaster?"

"Listen, Signor Crosetti," responded my father with vivacity. "I
recollect the first time that my poor mother accompanied me to school.
It was to be her first parting from me for two hours; of letting me out
of the house alone, in other hands than my father's; in the hands of a
stranger, in short. To this good creature my entrance into school was
like my entrance into the world, the first of a long series of necessary
and painful separations; it was society which was tearing her son from
her for the first time, never again to return him to her intact. She was
much affected; so was I. I bade her farewell with a trembling voice, and
then, as she went away, I saluted her once more through the glass in the
door, with my eyes full of tears. And just at that point you made a
gesture with one hand, laying the other on your breast, as though to
say, 'Trust me, signora.' Well, the gesture, the glance, from which I
perceived that you had comprehended all the sentiments, all the thoughts
of my mother; that look which seemed to say, 'C