Exactly at five o'clock we set out. In front went a boy carrying a cross, then a priest, then the coffin,--a very, very small coffin, poor child!--covered with a black cloth, and round it were wound the garlands of flowers brought by the two ladies. On the black cloth, on one side, were fastened the medal and honorable mentions which the little boy had won in the course of the year. Garrone, Coretti, and two boys from the courtyard bore the coffin. Behind the coffin, first came Signora Delcati, who wept as though the little dead boy were her own; behind her the other schoolmistresses; and behind the mistresses, the boys, among whom were some very little ones, who carried bunches of violets in one hand, and who stared in amazement at the bier, while their other hand was held by their mothers, who carried candles. I heard one of them say, "And shall I not see him at school again?"

When the coffin emerged from the court, a despairing cry was heard from the window. It was the child's mother; but they made her draw back into the room immediately. On arriving in the street, we met the boys from a college, who were passing in double file, and on catching sight of the coffin with the medal and the schoolmistresses, they all pulled off their hats.

Poor little boy! he went to sleep forever with his medal. We shall never see his red cap again. He was in perfect health; in four days he was dead. On the last day he made an effort to rise and do his little task in nomenclature, and he insisted on keeping his medal on his bed for fear it would be taken from him. No one will ever take it from you again, poor boy! Farewell, farewell! We shall always remember thee at the Baretti School! Sleep in peace, dear little boy!