"No, thanks: I don't want anything; I shall always do all that I can for
Crossi, but I cannot accept anything. I thank you all the same."
"But you are not at all offended?" asked the woman, anxiously.
Derossi said "No, no!" smiled, and went off, while she exclaimed, in
great delight:--
"Oh, what a good boy! I have never seen so fine and handsome a boy as
he!"
And that appeared to be the end of it. But in the afternoon, at four
o'clock, instead of Crossi's mother, his father approached, with that
gaunt and melancholy face of his. He stopped Derossi, and from the way
in which he looked at the latter I instantly understood that he
suspected Derossi of knowing his secret. He looked at him intently, and
said in his sorrowful, affectionate voice:--
"You are fond of my son. Why do you like him so much?"
Derossi's face turned the color of fire. He would have liked to say: "I
am fond of him because he has been unfortunate; because you, his father,
have been more unfortunate than guilty, and have nobly expiated your
crime, and are a man of heart." But he had not the courage to say it,
for at bottom he still felt fear and almost loathing in the presence of
this man who had shed another's blood, and had been six years in prison.
But the latter divined it all, and lowering his voice, he said in
Derossi's ear, almost trembling the while:--
"You love the son; but you do not hate, do not wholly despise the
father, do you?"
"Ah, no, no! Quite the reverse!" exclaimed Derossi, with a soulful
impulse. And then the man made an impetuous movement, as though to throw
one arm round his neck; but he dared not, and instead he took one of the
lad's golden curls between two of his fingers, smoothed it out, and
released it; then he placed his hand on his mouth and kissed his palm,
gazing at Derossi with moist eyes, as though to say that this kiss was
for him. Then he took his son by the hand, and went away at a rapid
pace.