the coffin
slid into the hearse, and one began to shriek, as though he had only
then comprehended that his mistress was dead, and he was seized with
such a convulsive fit of sobbing, that they were obliged to carry him
away.

The procession got slowly into line and set out. First came the
daughters of the Ritiro della Concezione, dressed in green; then the
daughters of Maria, all in white, with a blue ribbon; then the priests;
and behind the hearse, the masters and mistresses, the tiny scholars of
the upper primary, and all the others; and, at the end of all, the
crowd. People came to the windows and to the doors, and on seeing all
those boys, and the wreath, they said, "It is a schoolmistress." Even
some of the ladies who accompanied the smallest children wept.

When the church was reached, the casket was removed from the hearse, and
carried to the middle of the nave, in front of the great altar: the
mistresses laid their wreaths on it, the children covered it with
flowers, and the people all about, with lighted candles in their hands,
began to chant the prayers in the vast and gloomy church. Then, all of a
sudden, when the priest had said the last _amen_, the candles were
extinguished, and all went away in haste, and the mistress was left
alone. Poor mistress, who was so kind to me, who had so much patience,
who had toiled for so many years! She has left her little books to her
scholars, and everything which she possessed,--to one an inkstand, to
another a little picture; and two days before her death, she said to the
head-master that he was not to allow the smallest of them to go to her
funeral, because she did not wish them to cry.

She has done good, she has suffered, she is dead! Poor mistress, left
alone in that dark church! Farewell! Farewell forever, my kind friend,
sad and sweet memory of my infancy!

THANKS.

Wednesday, 28th.

My poor schoolmistress wanted to finish her year of school: she departed
only three days before the end of the lessons. Day after to-morrow we go
once more to the schoolroom to hear the reading of the monthly story,
_Shipwreck_, and then--it is over. On Saturday, the first of July, the
examinations begin. And then another year, the fourth, is past! And if
my mistress had not died, it would have passed well.

I thought over all that I had known on the preceding October, and it
seems to me that I know a good deal more: I have so many new things in
my mind; I can say and wr