The master bent his head and gazed at the ground in thought, and
muttered my father's name three or four times; the latter, meanwhile,
observed him with intent and smiling eyes.

All at once the old man raised his face, with his eyes opened widely,
and said slowly: "Alberto Bottini? the son of Bottini, the engineer? the
one who lived in the Piazza della Consolata?"

"The same," replied my father, extending his hands.

"Then," said the old man, "permit me, my dear sir, permit me"; and
advancing, he embraced my father: his white head hardly reached the
latter's shoulder. My father pressed his cheek to the other's brow.

"Have the goodness to come with me," said the teacher. And without
speaking further he turned about and took the road to his dwelling.

In a few minutes we arrived at a garden plot in front of a tiny house
with two doors, round one of which there was a fragment of whitewashed
wall.

The teacher opened the second and ushered us into a room. There were
four white walls: in one corner a cot bed with a blue and white checked
coverlet; in another, a small table with a little library; four chairs,
and one ancient geographical map nailed to the wall. A pleasant odor of
apples was perceptible.

We seated ourselves, all three. My father and his teacher remained
silent for several minutes.

"Bottini!" exclaimed the master at length, fixing his eyes on the brick
floor where the sunlight formed a checker-board. "Oh! I remember well!
Your mother was such a good woman! For a while, during your first year,
you sat on a bench to the left near the window. Let us see whether I do
not recall it. I can still see your curly head." Then he thought for a
while longer. "You were a lively lad, eh? Very. The second year you had
an attack of croup. I remember when they brought you back to school,
emaciated and wrapped up in a shawl. Forty years have elapsed since
then, have they not? You are very kind to remember your poor teacher.
And do you know, others of my old pupils have come hither in years gone
by to seek me out: there was a colonel, and there were some priests, and
several gentlemen." He asked my father what his profession was. Then he
said, "I am glad, heartily glad. I thank you. It is quite a while now
since I have seen any one. I very much fear that you will be the last,
my dear sir."

"Don't say that," exclaimed my father. "You are well and still vigorous.
You must not say that."

"Eh, no!" replied the m