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It was a beautiful spring day. The train ran through green fields and hedgerows in blossom, and the air we breathed was perfumed. My father was delighted, and every little while he would put his arm round my neck and talk to me like a friend, as he gazed out over the country.
天氣很好，原野一片綠色，雜花滿樹，火車經過，空氣也噴噴地發香。父親很愉快地望著窗外，一面用手勾住我的頭頸，像和朋友談話似的和我說：
"Poor Crosetti!" he said; "he was the first man, after my father, to love me and do me good. I have never forgotten certain of his good counsels, and also certain sharp reprimands which caused me to return home with a lump in my throat. His hands were large and stubby. I can see him now, as he used to enter the schoolroom, place his cane in a corner and hang his coat on the peg, always with the same gesture. And every day he was in the same humor,--always conscientious, full of good will, and attentive, as though each day he were teaching school for the first time. I remember him as well as though I heard him now when he called to me: 'Bottini! eh, Bottini! The fore and middle fingers on that pen!' He must have changed greatly in these four and forty years."
“啊！克洛賽諦先生！除了我父親以外，先生是最初愛我和為**心的人了。先生對于我的種種教訓，我現在還記著。因了不好的行為受了先生的叱罵，悲哀地回家的光景，我現在還記得。先生的手很粗大，那時先生的神情都像在我眼前哩：他總是靜靜地進了教室，把手杖放在屋角，把外套掛在衣鉤上；無論哪天，態度都是一樣，總是很真誠很熱心，什么事情都用了全副精神；從開學那天起，一直這樣。我現在的耳朵里，還像有先生的話聲：‘勃諦尼啊！動諦尼附！要把食指和中指這樣地握住筆桿的啊！’已經四十四年了，先生恐怕也和前不同了吧。”
As soon as we reached Condove, we went in search of our old gardener's wife of Chieri, who keeps a stall in an alley. We found her with her boys: she made much of us and gave us news of her husband, who is soon to return from Greece, where he has been working these three years; and of her eldest daughter, who is in the Deaf-mute Institute in Turin. Then she pointed out to us the street which led to the teacher's house,--for every one knows him.
到了孔特甫，我們去探聽先生的住所，立刻就探聽到了。原來在那里誰都認識先生。
We left the town, and turned into a steep lane flanked by blossoming hedges.
我們出了街市，折向那籬間有花的小路。
My father no longer talked, but appeared entirely absorbed in his reminiscences; and every now and then he smiled, and then shook his head.
父親默然地似乎在沉思往事，時時微笑著搖著頭。
Suddenly he halted and said: "Here he is. I will wager that this is he." Down the lane towards us a little old man with a white beard and a large hat was descending, leaning on a cane. He dragged his feet along, and his hands trembled.
突然，父親站住了說：“這就是他！一定是他！”我一看，小路的那邊來了一個帶大麥稈帽的白發老人，正拄了手杖走下坡來，腳似乎有點蹺，手在顫抖。
"It is he!" repeated my father, hastening his steps.When we were close to him, we stopped. The old man stopped also and looked at my father. His face was still fresh colored, and his eyes were clear and vivacious.
“果然是他！”父親反復說，急步走上前去。到了老人面前，老人也站住了向父親注視。老人面上還有紅彩，眼中露著光輝。
"Are you," asked my father, raising his hat, "Vincenzo Crosetti, the schoolmaster?"
父親脫了帽子：“你就是平善左·克洛賽諦先生嗎？”
The old man raised his hat also, and replied: "I am," in a voice that was somewhat tremulous, but full.
老人也把帽子去了，用顫動而粗大的聲音回答說；“是的。”
"Well, then," said my father, taking one of his hands, "permit one of your old scholars to shake your hand and to inquire how you are. I have come from Turin to see you."
“啊！那么„„”父親握了先生的手。“對不起，我是從前受教于先生的學生。先生好嗎？今天專從丘林來拜望您的。”
