There had been but two days of vacation,yet it seemed to me as though I had been a long time without seeing Garrone.The more I know him,the better I like him;and so it is with all the rest,except with the overbearing,who have nothing to say to him,because he does not permit them to exhibit their oppression.Every time that a big boy raises his hand against a little one,the little one shouts,“Garrone!”and the big one stops striking him.His father is an engine-driver on the railway;he has begun school late,because he was ill for two years.He is the tallest and the strongest of the class;he lifts a bench with one hand;he is always eating;and he is good.Whatever he is asked for,—a pencil,rubber,paper,or penknife,—he lends or gives it;and he neither talks nor laughs in school:he always sits perfectly motionless on a bench that is too narrow for him,with his spine curved forward,and his big head between his shoulders;and when I look at him,he smiles at me with his eyes half closed,as much as to say,“Well,Enrico,are we friends?”He makes me laugh,because,tall and broad as he is,he has a jacket,trousers,and sleeves which are too small for him,and too short;a cap which will not stay on his head;a threadbare cloak;coarse shoes;and a necktie which is always twisted into a cord.Dear Garrone!it needs but one glance in thy face to inspire love for thee.All the little boys would like to be near his bench.He knows arithmetic well.He carries his books bound together with a strap of red leather.He has a knife,with a mother-of-pearl handle,which he found in the field for military manœuvres,last year,and one day he cut his finger to the bone;but no one in school envies him it,and no one breathes a word about it at home,for fear of alarming his parents.He lets us say anything to him in jest,and he never takes it ill;but woe to any one who says to him,“That is not true,”when he affirms a thing:then fire flashes from his eyes,and he hammers down blows enough to split the bench.Saturday morning he gave a soldo to one of the upper first class,who was crying in the middle of the street,because his own had been taken from him,and he could not buy his copy-book.For the last three days he has been working over a letter of eight pages,with pen ornaments on the margins,for the saint's day of his mother,who often comes to get him,and who,like himself,is tall and large and sympathetic.The master is always glancing at him,and every time that he passes near him he taps him on the neck with his hand,as though he were a good,peaceable young bull.I am very fond of him.I am happy when I press his big hand,which seems to be the hand of a man,in mine.I am almost certain that he would risk his life to save that of a comrade;that he would allow himself to be killed in his defence,so clearly can I read his eyes;and although he always seems to be grumbling with that big voice of his,one feels that it is a voice that comes from a gentle heart.
第二卷 十一月
好友卡隆 四日
虽然只有两天的休假，我好像已有许多日子不见卡隆了。我愈和卡隆熟悉，愈觉得他可爱。不但我如此，大家都是这样，只有几个傲慢的人，嫌恶卡隆，不和他讲话。这是因为卡隆一贯不受他们压制的缘故。那大的孩子举起手来正要去打幼小的孩子的时候，幼的只要叫一声“卡隆”，那大的就会缩回手去的。卡隆的父亲是铁道的司机。卡隆小时候曾得过病，所以入学已迟，在我们一级里身材最高，气力也最大。他能用一手举起椅子来；常常吃着东西；为人很好，有人请求他，不论铅笔、橡皮、纸、小刀，都肯借给或赠予。上课时，不言、不笑、不动，石头般地安坐在狭小的课椅上，两肩上装着大大的头，把背脊向前弯曲着。我去看他的时候，他总半闭了眼给我笑脸看。好像在那里说：“喂，安利柯，我们大家做好朋友啊！”我一见卡隆，总是要笑起来。他身子又长，肩膀又阔，上衣、裤子、袖子都太小太短，至于帽子，小得差不多要从头上落下来；外套露出绽缝，皮靴是破了的，领带时常搓扭得成一条线。他的相貌，一见都使人喜欢，全级中谁都欢喜和他并坐。他算术很好，常用红皮带束了书本拿着。他有一把螺钿镶柄的大裁纸刀，这是去年陆军大操的时候，他在野外拾得的。他有一次因这刀伤了手，几乎把指骨都切断了。不论人家怎样嘲笑他，他都不发怒，但是当他说着什么的时候，如果有人说他“这是谎话”，那就不得了了：他立刻火冒起来，眼睛发红，一拳打下来，可以把椅子击破。有一个星期六的早晨，他看见二年级里有一个小孩因失掉了钱，不能买笔记簿，立在街上哭，他就把钱给那个小孩。他在母亲的生日，费了三天工夫，写了一封有八页长的信，纸的四周还用笔画了许多装饰的花样呢。先生常注视着他，从他旁边走过的时候，时常用手轻轻地去拍他的后颈，好像爱抚柔和的小牛的样子。我真喜欢卡隆。当我握着他那大手的时候，那种欢喜真是非常！他的手和我的相比，就像大人的手了。我的确相信：卡隆真是能牺牲自己的生命而救助朋友的人。这种精神，在他的眼光里很显明地可以看出；从他那粗大的喉音中，谁都可以听辨出他所含有的优美的真情。