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Updated: June 7, 2025
"There is the doctor," said his wife. The door opened and whom did I see? Garoffi, in his long cloak, standing, with bowed head, on the threshold, and without the courage to enter. "Who is it?" asked the sick man. "It is the boy who threw the snowball," said my father. And then the old man said: "Oh, my poor boy! come here; you have come to inquire after the wounded man, have you not?
But Garoffi did not move, and seemed to have something to say which he dared not utter. "What have you to say to me? What is it that you want?" "I! Nothing." "Well, good by, until we meet again, my boy; go with your heart in peace." Garoffi went as far as the door; but there he halted, turned to the nephew, who was following him, and gazed curiously at him.
And there are two others, also, who are always awake and attentive: stubborn Stardi, who pricks his face, to prevent himself from going to sleep; and the more weary and heated he is, the more he sets his teeth, and he opens his eyes so wide that it seems as though he wanted to eat the teacher; and that barterer of a Garoffi, who is wholly absorbed in manufacturing fans out of red paper, decorated with little figures from match-boxes, which he sells at two centesimi apiece.
And he shook his golden curls, with his easy and beautiful smile, and looked at his mother, who made him a salute with her hand. Garoffi, Garrone, the Calabrian promoted. Then three or four sent back; and one of them began to cry because his father, who was at the entrance, made a menacing gesture at him. But the master said to the father:
In the meantime a crowd had formed around the old man, and a policeman and others were running to and fro, threatening and demanding: "Who was it? Who did it? Was it you? Tell me who did it!" and they looked at the boys' hands to see whether they were wet with snow. Garoffi was standing beside me. I perceived that he was trembling all over, and that his face was as white as that of a corpse.
Stardi alone remained quiet, with his elbows on the bench, and his fists to his temples, meditating, perhaps, on his famous library; and Garoffi, that boy with the hooked nose and the postage-stamps, who was wholly occupied in making a catalogue of the subscribers at two centesimi each, for a lottery for a pocket inkstand.
It was the famous album, with his collection of postage-stamps, which poor Garoffi had brought, the collection of which he was always talking, upon which he had founded so many hopes, and which had cost him so much trouble; it was his treasure, poor boy! it was the half of his very blood, which he had presented in exchange for his pardon. He was in the fourth elementary class.
A little further on I saw Garoffi, with his owl's-beak nose, who was making great efforts to collect the printed catalogues of the prize-winners; and he already had a large bundle of them which he could put to some use in his bartering we shall find out what it is to-morrow.
A little further on I espied Garoffi, who was counting the spectators, and calculated on his fingers how much money the company had taken in.
This morning two events occurred at the school: Garoffi, wild with delight, because his album had been returned to him, with the addition of three postage-stamps of the Republic of Guatemala, which he had been seeking for three months; and Stardi, who took the second medal; Stardi the next in the class after Derossi! All were amazed at it.
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