with the repulsive face, sprang upon a
bench, and pretending that he was carrying a basket on each arm, he aped
the mother of Crossi, when she used to come to wait for her son at the
door; for she is ill now. Many began to laugh loudly. Then Crossi lost
his head, and seizing an inkstand, he hurled it at the other's head with
all his strength; but Franti dodged, and the inkstand struck the master,
who entered at the moment, full in the breast.

All flew to their places, and became silent with terror.

The master, quite pale, went to his table, and said in a constrained
voice:--

"Who did it?"

No one replied.

The master cried out once more, raising his voice still louder, "Who is
it?"

Then Garrone, moved to pity for poor Crossi, rose abruptly and said,
resolutely, "It was I."

The master looked at him, looked at the stupefied scholars; then said in
a tranquil voice, "It was not you."

And, after a moment: "The culprit shall not be punished. Let him rise!"

Crossi rose and said, weeping, "They were striking me and insulting me,
and I lost my head, and threw it."

"Sit down," said the master. "Let those who provoked him rise."

Four rose, and hung their heads.

"You," said the master, "have insulted a companion who had given you no
provocation; you have scoffed at an unfortunate lad, you have struck a
weak person who could not defend himself. You have committed one of the
basest, the most shameful acts with which a human creature can stain
himself. Cowards!"

Having said this, he came down among the benches, put his hand under
Garrone's chin, as the latter stood with drooping head, and having made
him raise it, he looked him straight in the eye, and said to him, "You
are a noble soul."

Garrone profited by the occasion to murmur some words, I know not what,
in the ear of the master; and he, turning towards the four culprits,
said, abruptly, "I forgive you."

MY SCHOOLMISTRESS OF THE UPPER FIRST.

Thursday, 27th.

My schoolmistress has kept her promise which she made, and came to-day
just as I was on the point of going out with my mother to carry some
linen to a poor woman recommended by the _Gazette_. It was a year since
I had seen her in our house. We all made a great deal of her. She is
just the same as ever, a little thing, with a green veil wound about her
bonnet, carelessly dressed, and with untidy hair, because she has not
time to keep herself nice; but with a little less color than las