Wednesday, 28th.
There is Stardi in my school, who would have the force to do what the
little Florentine did. This morning two events occurred at the school:
Garoffi, wild with delight, because his album had been returned to him,
with the addition of three postage-stamps of the Republic of Guatemala,
which he had been seeking for three months; and Stardi, who took the
second medal; Stardi the next in the class after Derossi! All were
amazed at it. Who could ever have foretold it, when, in October, his
father brought him to school bundled up in that big green coat, and said
to the master, in presence of every one:--
"You must have a great deal of patience with him, because he is very
hard of understanding!"
Every one credited him with a wooden head from the very beginning. But
he said, "I will burst or I will succeed," and he set to work doggedly,
to studying day and night, at home, at school, while walking, with set
teeth and clenched fists, patient as an ox, obstinate as a mule; and
thus, by dint of trampling on every one, disregarding mockery, and
dealing kicks to disturbers, this big thick-head passed in advance of
the rest. He understood not the first thing of arithmetic, he filled his
compositions with absurdities, he never succeeded in retaining a phrase
in his mind; and now he solves problems, writes correctly, and sings his
lessons like a song. And his iron will can be divined from the seeing
how he is made, so very thickset and squat, with a square head and no
neck, with short, thick hands, and coarse voice. He studies even on
scraps of newspaper, and on theatre bills, and every time that he has
ten soldi, he buys a book; he has already collected a little library,
and in a moment of good humor he allowed the promise to slip from his
mouth that he would take me home and show it to me. He speaks to no one,
he plays with no one, he is always on hand, on his bench, with his fists
pressed to his temples, firm as a rock, listening to the teacher. How he
must have toiled, poor Stardi! The master said to him this morning,
although he was impatient and in a bad humor, when he bestowed the
medals:--
"Bravo, Stardi! he who endures, conquers." But the latter did not appear
in the least puffed up with pride--he did not smile; and no sooner had
he returned to his seat, with the medal, than he planted his fists on
his temples again, and became more motionless and more attentive than
before. But the finest thing happened when he went out of school; for
his father, a blood-letter, as big and squat as himself, with a huge
face and a huge voice, was there waiting for him. He had not expected
this medal, and he was not willing to believe in it, so that it was
necessary for the master to reassure him, and then he began to laugh
heartily, and tapped his son on the back of the neck, saying
energetically, "Bravo! good! my dear pumpkin; you'll do!" and he stared
at him, astonished and smiling. And all the boys around him smiled too,
except Stardi. He was already ruminating the lesson for to-morrow
morning in that huge head of his.