. He who steals (Colui che ruba) a story for the young . to think of the cold that wasbecoming more severe all the time. His 60 HE WHO STEALS pulse beat strong, his temples pained him,his face was burning but he went runningup the steep ascent, slipping, falling, butnever complaining. He was not a boy whowas fleeing, he was a man who ran to an as-sault. He felt in his heart a terrible hatredagainst whom he could not say. Perhaps itwas against those who refused him work,perhaps it was against Nicolo the cart-driver, perhaps it was against Mr. Spadini,and he cursed with disconnected words, cutsh
. He who steals (Colui che ruba) a story for the young . to think of the cold that wasbecoming more severe all the time. His 60 HE WHO STEALS pulse beat strong, his temples pained him,his face was burning but he went runningup the steep ascent, slipping, falling, butnever complaining. He was not a boy whowas fleeing, he was a man who ran to an as-sault. He felt in his heart a terrible hatredagainst whom he could not say. Perhaps itwas against those who refused him work,perhaps it was against Nicolo the cart-driver, perhaps it was against Mr. Spadini,and he cursed with disconnected words, cutshort by his lack of breath. When he reached level ground he wasable to talk to himself. I wanted to work, he said, I beggedfor work, but you did not want me—youdrank, you drank too much and then youdemanded the rent and we did not havebread, and Mamma was dying. Why?Why have you so much money and we noth-ing? Why have you ten times, a hundredtimes, a thousand times more than you needand we have not a penny? Ah! Youlaugh—but I have the courage to—. It sounded like a hundred voices calling out, Thief—thief. HE WHO STEALS 63 It seemed to him that he heard from be-hind his shoulders a loud laughing voice, andhe shivered. You are running away because you area thief, it seemed to say. He turned quickly round. He heard abuzzing in his ears and it sounded like ahundred voices calling out, Thief—thief! He shook his head, raised his brow to thecold wind which hissed through the trees, hepressed his temples and cried in a stranglingvoice: Thief? Who calls me a thief? Whosaid that? I, a thief? I did that for mymother—I did it because she was dying— He tried to picture his mother well andhappy. But what came to him was a mothersad, tormented and crushed. He became afraid of that picture. Heheard again the buzzing in his ears. Hismind could hold no thought for any lengthof time. Something seemed to press hisheart, his throat nearly closed, and with agroan he fell upon his knees,
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1922
