Heart/The Head of the Class
THE HEAD OF THE CLASS
Friday, 25th.
Garrone attracts the love of all; Derossi, the admiration. Derossi has taken the first medal; he will always be the first. This year also no one can compete with him; all recognize his superiority in all points. He is first in arithmetic, in grammar, in composition, in drawing; he understands everything at a glance; he has a marvelous memory; he succeeds in everything without effort. It seems as though study were play to him. The teacher said to him yesterday:—
“You have received great gifts from God. Be careful not to squander them.”
And besides, he is tall and handsome, with a great crown of golden curls; he is so nimble that he can leap over a bench by resting one hand on it; and he already understands fencing. He is twelve years old, and the son of a merchant; he is always dressed in blue, with gilt buttons; he is always lively, merry, gracious to all, and helps us as much as he can in examinations. No one has ever dared to play a trick on him or call him names.
Nobis and Franti alone look askance at him, and Votini darts envy from his eyes: but he does not even perceive it. All smile at him, and take his hand or his arm, when he goes about, in his graceful way, to collect the work. He gives away illustrated papers, drawings, everything that is given him at home. He has made a little geographical chart of Calabria for the Calabrian lad; and he gives everything with a smile, without paying any heed to it, like a grand gentleman, and without favoritism for any one. It is impossible not to envy him, not to feel smaller than he in everything.
Ah! I, too, envy him, like Votini. And I feel a bitterness, almost a certain scorn, for him, sometimes, when I am striving to do my work at home, and think that he has already finished his correctly, at this same moment, and without fatigue. But then, when I return to school, and behold him so handsome, so smiling and triumphant, and hear how frankly and confidently he replies to the master's questions, and how courteous he is, and how the others all like him, then all the bitterness, all scorn, departs from my heart, and I am ashamed of having felt that way. I should like to be always near him at such times. I should like to be able to do all my school tasks with him, for his presence, his voice, inspire me with courage, with a will to work, with cheerfulness and pleasure.
The teacher has given him the monthly story to copy, which will be read to-morrow,—The Little Vidette of Lombardy. He copied it this morning, and was so much affected by that heroic deed, that his face was all aflame, his eyes moist, and his lips trembling. I gazed at him: how handsome and noble he was! With what pleasure would I not have said frankly to his face: “Derossi, you are worth more than I in everything! You are a man in comparison with me! I respect you and admire you!”