into the world as into an immense tomb, and that they do not know what the human face is like. Picture to yourself how they must have suffered, and how they must still suffer, when they think thus confusedly of the vast difference between themselves and those who see, and ask themselves, “Why this difference, if we are not to blame?’
“I who have spent many years among them, when I recall that class, all those eyes forever sealed, all those pupils without sight and without life, and then look at the rest of you,—I cannot find it possible that you should not all be happy. Think of it! there are about twenty-six thousand blind persons in Italy I Twenty-six thousand persons who do not see the light. Do you understand? An army which would take four hours to march past our windows.”
The teacher paused. Not a breath was heard in all the school. Derossi asked if it were true that the blind have a finer sense of feeling than the rest of us.
“It is true,” the teacher answered. “All the other senses are finer in them, because, since they must replace, among them, that of sight, they are more and better exercised than they are in the case of those who see. In the morning in the dormitory, one asks another, ‘Is the sun shining?’ and the one who is the most alert in dressing runs into the yard, and waves his hands in the air, to find out whether there is any warmth of the sun perceptible. Then he comes to tell the good news, ‘The sun is shining!’ From the voice of a person they obtain an idea of his height. We judge of a man's soul by his eyes; they, by his voice.
“They remember intonations and accents for years.
