apel of the prison, which is a circular building, and all around
it, on the high, bare walls, are a great many little square windows,
covered with two cross-bars of iron, each one of which corresponds to a
very small cell inside. He gave his lessons as he paced about the dark,
cold chapel, and his scholars stood at the holes, with their copy-books
resting against the gratings, showing nothing in the shadow but wan,
frowning faces, gray and ragged beards, staring eyes of murderers and
thieves. Among the rest there was one, No. 78, who was more attentive
than all the others, and who studied a great deal, and gazed at his
teacher with eyes full of respect and gratitude. He was a young man,
with a black beard, more unfortunate than wicked, a cabinet-maker who,
in a fit of rage, had flung a plane at his master, who had been
persecuting him for some time, and had inflicted a mortal wound on his
head: for this he had been condemned to several years of seclusion. In
three months he had learned to read and write, and he read constantly,
and the more he learned, the better he seemed to become, and the more
remorseful for his crime. One day, at the conclusion of the lesson, he
made a sign to the teacher that he should come near to his little
window, and he announced to him that he was to leave Turin on the
following day, to go and expiate his crime in the prison at Venice; and
as he bade him farewell, he begged in a humble and much moved voice,
that he might be allowed to touch the master's hand. The master offered
him his hand, and he kissed it; then he said:--

"Thanks! thanks!" and disappeared. The master drew back his hand; it was
bathed with tears. After that he did not see the man again.

Six years passed. "I was thinking of anything except that unfortunate
man," said the teacher, "when, the other morning, I saw a stranger come
to the house, a man with a large black beard already sprinkled with
gray, and badly dressed, who said to me: 'Are you the teacher So-and-So,
sir?' 'Who are you?' I asked him. 'I am prisoner No. 78,' he replied;
'you taught me to read and write six years ago; if you recollect, you
gave me your hand at the last lesson; I have now expiated my crime, and
I have come hither--to beg you to do me the favor to accept a memento of
me, a poor little thing which I made in prison. Will you accept it in
memory of me, Signor Master?'

"I stood there speechless. He thought that I did not wish to take it,
and he lo