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Updated: June 10, 2025
"Who was it? Who did it?" the crowd continued to cry. Then I overheard Garrone say in a low voice to Garoffi, "Come, go and present yourself; it would be cowardly to allow any one else to be arrested." "But I did not do it on purpose," replied Garoffi, trembling like a leaf. "No matter; do your duty," repeated Garrone. "But I have not the courage." "Take courage, then; I will accompany you."
When a father comes to the school to reprove his son, he enjoys it; when any one cries, he laughs. He trembles before Garrone, and he strikes the little mason because he is small; he torments Crossi because he has a helpless arm; he ridicules Precossi, whom every one respects; he even jeers at Robetti, that boy in the second grade who walks on crutches, through having saved a child.
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!"
"Silence!" cried the mason; "silence, for the love of God, or I shall lose my reason!" Then he said to us, with anxiety: "Go, go, boys, thanks; go! what do you want to do here? Thanks; go home!" The boy had closed his eyes again, and appeared to be dead. "Do you need any assistance?" asked Garrone. "No, my good boy, thanks," the mason answered.
Never mind; I shall recognize him. Forty-four years have elapsed, forty-four years, Enrico! and we will go to see him to-morrow." And yesterday morning, at nine o'clock, we were at the Susa railway station. I should have liked to have Garrone come too; but he could not, because his mother is ill. It was a beautiful spring day.
And so saying, he pushed us out on the landing, and shut the door. But we were not half-way down the stairs, when we heard him calling, "Garrone! Garrone!" We all three mounted the stairs once more in haste. "Garrone!" shouted the mason, with a changed countenance, "he has called you by name; it is two days since he spoke; he has called you twice; he wants you; come quickly!
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:
My mother put a little bunch of flowers into Garrone's buttonhole, for him to carry to his mother in her name. Garrone said, "Thanks," in his big voice, without raising his chin from his breast. But all his kind and noble soul shone in his eyes. Saturday, 11th. The idea of Carlo Nobis rubbing off his sleeve affectedly, when Precossi touches him in passing!
"That's all my eye," says he, seizing the garrone, while I mounted Naboclish, and rode him off deliberately to 'Ha! ha! ha! That was neat, I grant you, Terry, said Lord Clonbrony. 'But what a dolt of a born ignoramus must that sheriffs fellow have been, not to know Naboclish when he saw him! 'But stay, my lord stay, Miss Nugent I have more for you, following her wherever she moved.
Ah, holy God, if this is only a good sign!" "Farewell for the present," said Garrone to us; "I shall remain," and he ran in with the father. Derossi's eyes were full of tears. I said to him: "Are you crying for the little mason? He has spoken; he will recover." "I believe it," replied Derossi; "but I was not thinking of him. I was thinking how good Garrone is, and what a beautiful soul he has."
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