six years in prison. But the latter divined it all, and lowering his voice, he said in Derossi's ear, almost trembling the while:—
“You love the son; but you do not hate, do not wholly despise the father, do you?”
“Ah, no, no! Quite the reverse!” exclaimed Derossi, with a soulful impulse. The man made an impetuous movement, as though to throw one arm round his neck; but he dared not, and instead he took one of the lad's golden curls between two of his fingers, stroked it and let it go; then he kissed his palm to him, gazing at Derossi with moist eyes, as though to say that this kiss was for him. After which he took his son by the hand, and went away at a rapid pace.
A LITTLE DEAD BOY
The little boy who lived in the vegetable-vendor's court, the one who belonged to the upper primary, and was the companion of my brother, is dead. Schoolmistress Delcati came in great affliction, on Saturday afternoon, to inform the master of it; and instantly Garrone and Coretti volunteered to carry the coffin.
He was a fine little lad. He had won the medal last week. He was fond of my brother, and had given him a broken money-box. My mother always petted him when she met him. He wore a cap with two stripes of red cloth. His father is a porter on the railway.
Yesterday (Sunday) afternoon, at half -past four
