. He who steals (Colui che ruba) a story for the young . chhis mother, and began to cut small slices ofbread. I am a boy without a heart, he said tohimself, yes, without a heart. Why didnt 12 HE WHO STEALS I work to-day? Why dont I search workso that Mamma and Ciccillo can eat whatthey want? When he carried the steaming plate tohis mother she caressed his little ruffled headand said: My poor little thing! These tender words, were they a reproofto him? Had he become rude, and bad?He thought so. But why? He left his little brother with neckstretched and mouth open to divide thelittle soup and he
. He who steals (Colui che ruba) a story for the young . chhis mother, and began to cut small slices ofbread. I am a boy without a heart, he said tohimself, yes, without a heart. Why didnt 12 HE WHO STEALS I work to-day? Why dont I search workso that Mamma and Ciccillo can eat whatthey want? When he carried the steaming plate tohis mother she caressed his little ruffled headand said: My poor little thing! These tender words, were they a reproofto him? Had he become rude, and bad?He thought so. But why? He left his little brother with neckstretched and mouth open to divide thelittle soup and he went and leaned againstthe doorway. It was now becoming dark and the lightthat came from the windows opposite seemedas if it were being swallowed up by sombreshadows. And Mingo thought: I cant play any more with Gino as Iused to. Does Gino know that my motheris wasting away day by day because thereis not nourishing food for her? DoesGino know that she never sleeps, torturedby the asthma which seems to suffocate herfrom one .moment to another? Ah! Gino. He left his little brother with neck stretched and mouth open. HE WHO STEALS 15 has never seen his mother panting in bedand he never said to himself with agony inhis soul, She is dying, she cannot live thenight through! Does Gino know that Cic-cillo does not have enough to eat, and thatNicolo, the cart driver, the man who ownsthis miserable room, asks me in a loud voicewhen he meets me for the two months rentthat is owed him*?—No, I cant, I mustntplay any more. He looked at a house on a hill and he sawlight from the two small windows. And heseemed to see as through a lens the smallkitchen of that house in which he had livedwhen his father was with them. He seemedto see his mother well and strong preparingthe evening meal, stirring the soup in a largecopper kettle while in a pan nearby meat wascooking. How everything had changed! Thehome was not like it was. The copperkettle which shone like gold had been father had no
Size: 1578px × 1583px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1922
