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Updated: May 11, 2025
How she would have suffered, poor mother! And as I thought of that I felt so tenderly towards Nelli that I could have given, I know not what, to be able, for the sake of having him climb those bars, to give him a push from below without being seen. Meanwhile Garrone, Derossi, and Coretti were saying: "Up with you, Nelli, up with you!" "Try one effort more courage!"
She insisted that I should take a lump of sugar; and then Coretti showed me a little picture, the photograph portrait of his father dressed as a soldier, with the medal for bravery which he had won in 1866, in the troop of Prince Umberto: he had the same face as his son, with the same vivacious eyes and his merry smile. We went back to the kitchen.
But this morning he could not resist, and he fell into a leaden sleep. The master called him loudly; "Coretti!" He did not hear. The master, irritated, repeated, "Coretti!" Then the son of the charcoal-man, who lives next to him at home, rose and said: "He worked from five until seven carrying faggots." The teacher allowed him to sleep on, and continued with the lesson for half an hour.
A man who was standing in the cart was handing him an armful of wood at a time, which he took and carried into his father's shop, where he piled it up in the greatest haste. "What are you doing, Coretti?" I asked him. "Don't you see?" he answered, reaching out his arms to receive the load; "I am reviewing my lesson."
Derossi and Coretti were still laughing at their encounter with Crossi, the son of the vegetable-seller, in the street, the boy with the useless arm and the red hair, who was carrying a huge cabbage for sale, and with the soldo which he was to receive for the cabbage he was to go and buy a pen. He was perfectly happy because his father had written from America that they might expect him any day.
At ten o'clock precisely my father saw from the window Coretti, the wood-seller, and his son waiting for me in the square, and said to me: "There they are, Enrico; go and see your king." I went like a flash. Both father and son were even more alert than usual, and they never seemed to me to resemble each other so strongly as this morning.
Coretti was pleased this morning, because his master of the second class, Coatti, a big man, with a huge head of curly hair, a great black beard, big dark eyes, and a voice like a cannon, had come to assist in the work of the monthly examination.
The younger Coretti did the same, as he went along. That little fellow knows how to make everything with his jack-knife a finger's length long, mill-wheels, forks, squirts; and he insisted on carrying the other boys' things, and he was loaded down until he was dripping with perspiration, but he was still as nimble as a goat.
He fell ill at Versailles. Given over by Fagon, the King's physician, Coretti, an Italian, who had secrets of his own, undertook his cure, and relieved him, but only for a short time. His door during this illness was besieged by all the Court. The King sent to inquire after him, but it was more for appearance' sake than from sympathy, for I have already remarked that the King did not like him.
Surely, neither your comrade Coretti nor Garrone would ever have answered their fathers as you answered yours this afternoon. Enrico! How is it possible? You must promise me solemnly that this shall never happen again so long as I live.
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