hardly spoke a word. Now and again he pressed my hand.
When we returned to the house my mother had not left her room. Through the open door I could see that she was leaning her head on the table. Thinking that she was sick I ran to her to kiss her, as I was unable to speak to her. She lifted up her head, which swayed. She looked at me but did not see me. I smelled the odor of gin on her hot breath. I drew back. Her head fell again on her arms resting on the table.
"Gin," said my grandfather, grinning.
I remained motionless. I felt turned to stone. I don't know how long I stood so. Suddenly I turned to Mattia. He was looking at me with eyes full of tears. I signed to him and again we left the house. For a long time we walked about, side by side, holding each other's hands, saying nothing, going straight before us without knowing where we were going.
"Where do you want to go, Remi?" he asked at last, anxiously.
"I don't know. Somewhere so we can talk. I want to speak to you, Mattia. We can't talk in this crowd."
We had by this time come to a much wider street at the end of which was a public garden. We hurried to this spot and sat down on a bench.
"You know how much I love you, Mattia boy," I began, "and you know that it was through friendship for you that I asked you to come with me to
