h he did not feel the courage to exert. And thus he
went on.

But one evening at dinner his father spoke a word which was decisive so
far as he was concerned. His mother looked at him, and as it seemed to
her that he was more ill and weak than usual, she said to him, "Giulio,
you are ill." And then, turning to his father with anxiety: "Giulio is
ill. See how pale he is Giulio, my dear, how do you feel?"

His father gave a hasty glance, and said: "It is his bad conscience that
produces his bad health. He was not thus when he was a studious scholar
and a loving son."

"But he is ill!" exclaimed the mother.

"I don't care anything about him any longer!" replied the father.

This remark was like a stab in the heart to the poor boy. Ah! he cared
nothing any more. His father, who once trembled at the mere sound of a
cough from him! He no longer loved him; there was no longer any doubt;
he was dead in his father's heart. "Ah, no! my father," said the boy to
himself, his heart oppressed with anguish, "now all is over indeed; I
cannot live without your affection; I must have it all back. I will tell
you all; I will deceive you no longer. I will study as of old, come what
will, if you will only love me once more, my poor father! Oh, this time
I am quite sure of my resolution!"

Nevertheless he rose that night again, by force of habit more than
anything else; and when he was once up, he wanted to go and salute and
see once more, for the last time, in the quiet of the night, that little
chamber where he toiled so much in secret with his heart full of
satisfaction and tenderness. And when he beheld again that little table
with the lamp lighted and those white wrappers on which he was never
more to write those names of towns and persons, which he had come to
know by heart, he was seized with a great sadness, and with an impetuous
movement he grasped the pen to recommence his accustomed toil. But in
reaching out his hand he struck a book, and the book fell. The blood
rushed to his heart. What if his father had waked! Certainly he would
not have discovered him in the commission of a bad deed: he had himself
decided to tell him all, and yet--the sound of that step approaching in
the darkness,--the discovery at that hour, in that silence,--his mother,
who would be awakened and alarmed,--and the thought, which had occurred
to him for the first time, that his father might feel humiliated in his
presence on thus discovering all;--all