two sword-thrusts in the
body, he may be allowed to say, but not till then, 'Really, I almost
think I am not quite well.'"

The moral authority he had acquired over me was so great that in no case
would I have disobeyed him, even had he ordered me to jump out
of window.

I recollect that when my first tooth was drawn, I was in an agony of
fright as we went to the dentist; but outwardly I was brave enough, and
tried to seem as indifferent as possible. On another occasion my
childish courage and also my father's firmness were put to a more
serious test. He had hired a house called the Villa Billi, which stands
about half a mile from San Domenico di Fiesole, on the right winding up
toward the hill. Only two years ago I visited the place, and found the
same family of peasants still there, and my two old playmates, Nando and
Sandro,--who had both become even greater fogies than myself,--and we
had a hearty chat together about bygone times.

Whilst living at this villa, our father was accustomed to take us out
for long walks, which were the subject of special regulations. We were
strictly forbidden to ask, "Have we far to go?"--"What time is it?" or
to say, "I am thirsty; I am hungry; I am tired:" but in everything else
we had full liberty of speech and action. Returning from one of these
excursions, we one day found ourselves below Castel di Poggio, a rugged
stony path leading towards Vincigliata. In one hand I had a nosegay of
wild flowers, gathered by the way, and in the other a stick, when I
happened to stumble, and fell awkwardly. My father sprang forward to
pick me up, and seeing that one arm pained me, he examined it and found
that in fact the bone was broken below the elbow. All this time my eyes
were fixed upon him, and I could see his countenance change, and assume
such an expression of tenderness and anxiety that he no longer appeared
to be the same man. He bound up my arm as well as he could, and we then
continued our way homewards. After a few moments, during which my father
had resumed his usual calmness, he said to me:--

"Listen, Mammolino: your mother is not well. If she knows you are hurt
it will make her worse. You must be brave, my boy: to-morrow morning we
will go to Florence, where all that is needful can be done for you; but
this evening you must not show you are in pain. Do you understand?"

All this was said with his usual firmness and authority, but also with
the greatest affection. I was only t