cline by leaps, rolls, and slides. Precossi tumbled into a thorn-bush, and tore a hole in his blouse, and stood there shamefacedly, with the strip dangling; but Garoffi, who always has pins in his jacket, fixed it so that it was not to be seen, while the other kept saying, “Excuse me, excuse me,” and then he set out to run once more.
Garoffi did not waste his time on the way; he picked salad herbs and snails, and put every stone that glistened the least bit into his packet, supposing that there was gold and silver in it. And on we went, running, rolling, and climbing through the shade and in the sun, up and down, through all the lanes and cross-roads, until we arrived tumbled and breathless at the crest of a hill, where we seated ourselves to take our lunch on the grass.
We could see an immense plain, and all the blue Alps with their white summits. We were almost dying of hunger; the bread seemed to be melting. The elder Coretti handed us our portions of sausage on gourd leaves. And then we all began to talk at once about the teachers, the comrades who had not been able to come, and the examinations. Precossi was rather ashamed to eat, and Garrone thrust the best bits of his share into his mouth by force. Coretti was seated next his father, with his legs crossed; they seemed more like two brothers than father and son, when seen thus together, both rosy and smiling, with those white teeth of theirs. The father drank with zest, emptying the bottles and the cups which we left half finished, and said:—
“Wine hurts you boys, who are studying; it is the
