Heart/A Medal Well Bestowed
“I give you the medal, Precossi. No one is more worthy to wear it than you. I bestow it not only on your intelligence and your good will; I bestow it on your heart, I give it to your courage, to your character of a brave and good son. Is it not true,” he added, turning to the class, “that he deserves it also on that score?”
“Yes, yes!” all answered, with one voice. Precossi made a movement of the throat as though he were swallowing something, and cast upon the benches a very sweet look, which bespoke his immense gratitude.
“Go, my dear boy,” said the superintendent; “and may God protect you!”
It was the hour for dismissing the school. Our class got out before the others. As soon as we were outside the door, whom should we espy there in the large hall just at the entrance? The father of Precossi, the blacksmith, pale as usual, with fierce face, hair hanging over his eyes, his cap awry, and unsteady on his legs. The teacher caught sight of him instantly, and whispered to the superintendent. The latter sought out Precossi in haste, and taking him by the hand, he led him to his father. The boy was trembling. He and the superintendent approached; several of the boys collected around them.
“Is it true that you are the father of this lad?” asked the superintendent of the blacksmith, with a cheerful air, as though they were friends. And, without awaiting a reply:—“I rejoice with you. Look: he has won the second medal over fifty- four of his comrades. He has deserved it by his composition, his arithmetic, everything. He is a boy of great intelligence and good will, who will accomplish great things; a noble lad, who has gained the friendship and esteem of all. You may feel proud of him, I assure you.”
The blacksmith, who had stood there with open mouth listening to him, stared at the superintendent and the principal, and then at his son, who was standing before him with downcast eyes and trembling; and as though he had remembered and comprehended then, for the first time, all that he had made the little fellow suffer, and all the goodness, the heroic constancy, with which the latter had borne it, his face took on a certain stupid wonder, then a sullen remorse, and finally a sad, fierce tenderness; and with a quick movement he caught the boy round the head and strained him to his breast.
We went out ahead of them. I invited him to come to the house on Thursday, with Garrone and Crossi; others bowed to him; one gave him a friendly pat, another touched his medal, all said something to him; and his father stared at us in amazement, as he still held his son's head pressed to his breast, while the boy sobbed.
GOOD RESOLUTIONS
The medal given to Precossi has awakened a regret in me. I have never earned one yet! For some time past I have not been studying, and I am discontented with myself; and the teacher, and my father