ilver gilt?" I asked him.

"No," he replied; "it is gold."

"But not entirely of gold," I said; "there must be some silver with it."

"Why, no!" he retorted; and, in order to compel the boy to look, he held
the watch before his face, and said to him, "Say, look here! isn't it
true that it is entirely of gold?"

The boy replied curtly, "I don't know."

"Oh! oh!" exclaimed Votini, full of wrath, "what pride!"

As he was saying this, his father came up, and heard him; he looked
steadily at the lad for a moment, then said sharply to his son, "Hold
your tongue!" and, bending down to his ear, he added, "he is blind!"

Votini sprang to his feet, with a shudder, and stared the boy in the
face: the latter's eyeballs were glassy, without expression, without
sight.

Votini stood humbled,--speechless,--with his eyes fixed on the ground.
At length he stammered, "I am sorry; I did not know."

But the blind boy, who had understood it all, said, with a kind and
melancholy smile, "Oh, it's no matter!"

Well, he is vain; but Votini has not at all a bad heart. He never
laughed again during the whole of the walk.

THE FIRST SNOW-STORM.

Saturday, 10th.

Farewell, walks to Rivoli! Here is the beautiful friend of the boys!
Here is the first snow! Ever since yesterday evening it has been falling
in thick flakes as large as gillyflowers. It was a pleasure this morning
at school to see it beat against the panes and pile up on the
window-sills; even the master watched it, and rubbed his hands; and all
were glad, when they thought of making snowballs, and of the ice which
will come later, and of the hearth at home. Stardi, entirely absorbed in
his lessons, and with his fists pressed to his temples, was the only one
who paid no attention to it. What beauty, what a celebration there was
when we left school! All danced down the streets, shouting and tossing
their arms, catching up handfuls of snow, and dashing about in it, like
poodles in water. The umbrellas of the parents, who were waiting for
them outside, were all white; the policeman's helmet was white; all our
satchels were white in a few moments. Every one appeared to be beside
himself with joy--even Precossi, the son of the blacksmith, that pale
boy who never laughs; and Robetti, the lad who saved the little child
from the omnibus, poor fellow! he jumped about on his crutches. The
Calabrian, who had never touched snow, made himself a little ball of it,
and began to eat