clothing or anything else, we will make them gladly. We would even sell our presents. I would give up all my things, and serve you as your maid. We will not have anything done out of the house any more, I will work all day long with you, I will do everything you wish, I am ready for anything! for anything!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around my mother's neck, “if papa and mamma can only be saved further troubles, if I can only see you both once more at ease, and in good spirits, as in former days, between your Sylvia and your Enrico, who love you so dearly, who would give their lives for you!”
Ah! I have never seen my mother so happy as she was on hearing these words; she never before kissed us on the brow in that way, weeping and laughing, and unable to speak. Then she assured Sylvia that she had not understood rightly; that we were not in the least reduced circumstances, as she imagined. And she thanked us a hundred times, and was cheerful all the evening, until my father came in, when she told him all about it. He did not open his mouth, poor father! But this morning, as we sat at the table, I felt at once both a great pleasure and a great sadness: under my napkin I found my box of colors, and under hers, Sylvia found her fan.
THE FIRE
Thursday, 11th.
This morning I had finished copying my share of the story, From the Apennines to the Andes, and was seeking for a theme for the original composition which the
