"I knew nothing about it!" replied the gardener, lost in amazement. "I have been abroad for the last three years. Oh, they wrote to me, and I did not understand. I am a blockhead. Oh, my daughter, you understand me, then? Do you hear my voice? Answer me: do you hear me? Do you hear what I say?"
"Why, no, my good man," said the teacher; "she does not hear your voice, because she is deaf. She understands from the movements of your lips what the words are that you utter; this is the way the thing is managed; but she does not hear your voice any more than she does the words which she speaks to you; she pronounces them, because we have taught her, letter by letter, how she must place her lips and move her tongue, and what effort she must make with her chest and throat, in order to emit a sound."
The gardener did not understand, and stood with his mouth wide open. He did not yet believe it.
"Tell me, Gigia," he asked his daughter, whispering in her ear, "are you glad that your father has come back?" and he raised his face again, and stood awaiting her reply.
The girl looked at him thoughtfully, and said nothing.
The teacher laughed. Then she said: "My good man, she does not answer you, because she did not see the movements of your lips: you spoke in her ear! Repeat your question, keeping your face well before hers."
The father, gazing straight in her face, repeated, "Are you glad that your father has come back? that he is not going away again?"
The girl, who had observed his lips attentively, seeking even to see inside his mouth, replied frankly:--
"Yes, I am de-light-ed that you have re-turned, that you are not go-ing a-way a-gain--nev-er a-gain."
Her father embraced her impetuously, and then in great haste, in order to make quite sure, he overwhelmed her with questions.
"What is the name of your little sister?"
While we thought that he was laughing for joy, he suddenly burst out crying. But this was the result of joy also.
"Take courage," said the teacher to him; "you have reason to rejoice, not to weep. You see that you are making your daughter cry also. You are pleased, then?"
The gardener grasped the teacher's hand and kissed it two or three times, saying: "Thanks, thanks, thanks! a hundred thanks, a thousand thanks, dear Signora Teacher! and forgive me for not knowing how to say anything else!"