face bent, and smiling, and the gardener continued to gaze at her, as at a madonna.
“You can take your daughter with you for the day,” said the mistress.
“Won't I take her, though!” rejoined the gardener. “I'll take her to Condove, and fetch her back tomorrow morning. Think for a bit whether I won't take her!”
The girl ran off to dress.
“It is three years since I have seen her!” repeated the gardener. “Now she speaks! I will take her to Condove with me this minute. But first I shall take a walk about Turin, with my deaf-mute on my arm, so that all may see her, and I shall take her to see some of my friends! Ah, what a beautiful day! This is consolation indeed!—Here's your father's arm, my Gigia.”
The girl, who had returned with a little mantle and cap on, took his arm.
“And thanks to all!” said the father, as he reached the threshold. “Thanks to all, with my whole soul! I shall come back another time to thank you all again.”
He stood for a moment in thought, then turned abruptly from the girl, came back, fumbling in his waistcoat with his hand, and shouted like a man in a fury:—
“Come now, I am not a poor devil! So here, I leave twenty lire for the institution,—a fine new gold piece.”
And with a tremendous bang, he left his gold piece on the table.
“No, no, my good man,” said the mistress, with
