Saturday, 28th.
But Votini is incorrigible. Yesterday morning, during the lesson on
religion, in the presence of the head-master, the teacher asked Derossi
if he knew by heart the two couplets in the reading-book,--
"Where'er I turn my gaze, 'tis Thee, great God, I see."
Derossi said that he did not, and Votini suddenly exclaimed, "I know
them!" with a smile, as though to pique Derossi. But he was piqued
himself, instead, for he could not recite the poetry, because Franti's
mother suddenly flew into the schoolroom, breathless, with her gray hair
dishevelled and all wet with snow, and pushing before her her son, who
had been suspended from school for a week. What a sad scene we were
doomed to witness! The poor woman flung herself almost on her knees
before the head-master, with clasped hands, and besought him:--
"Oh, Signor Director, do me the favor to put my boy back in school! He
has been at home for three days. I have kept him hidden; but God have
mercy on him, if his father finds out about this affair: he will murder
him! Have pity! I no longer know what to do! I entreat you with my whole
soul!"
The director tried to lead her out, but she resisted, still continuing
to pray and to weep.
"Oh, if you only knew the trouble that this boy has caused me, you would
have compassion! Do me this favor! I hope that he will reform. I shall
not live long, Signor Director; I bear death within me; but I should
like to see him reformed before my death, because"--and she broke into a
passion of weeping--"he is my son--I love him--I shall die in despair!
Take him back once more, Signor Director, that a misfortune may not
happen in the family! Do it out of pity for a poor woman!" And she
covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
Franti stood impassive, and hung his head. The head-master looked at
him, reflected a little, then said, "Franti, go to your place."
Then the woman removed her hands from her face, quite comforted, and
began to express thanks upon thanks, without giving the director a
chance to speak, and made her way towards the door, wiping her eyes, and
saying hastily: "I beg of you, my son.--May all have patience.--Thanks,
Signor Director; you have performed a deed of mercy.--Be a good
boy.--Good day, boys.--Thanks, Signor Teacher; good by, and forgive a
poor mother." And after bestowing another supplicating glance at her son
from the door, she went away, pulling up the shawl which was trailing
after her, pale, bent, with a head which still trembled, and we heard
her coughing all the way down the stairs. The head-master gazed intently
at Franti, amid the silence of the class, and said to him in accents of
a kind to make him tremble:--
"Franti, you are killing your mother!"
We all turned to look at Franti; and that infamous boy smiled.