Military life in Italy : sketches - Societa italiana di storia militare

" CURED, yes, entirely cured, and there is not even a scar ;
A BUNCH OF FLOWERS.
look and see if
you can find one." Thus said a very young
officer (whom I had not seen for fifteen days when we met last
year, at the end of February, in the house of a lady friend), as
he put out his hand for me to look at. I glanced at it : and
there was not a trace of a scar. "And the other man " ? I asked.
"Oh, he is better," was the reply. "Who? Who is better?
"
Who has been ill ? broke in the lady of the house, coming up
to us. My friend and I exchanged smiles. " "
Shall I tell her ?
asked he. "Yes, I would do so, if I were you."
"
Well, listen then," began my friend, turning to the lady.
" Three days before the end of carnival, one evening about
five o'clock, I was standing in front of a caf6 watching the
corso. I was alone, in no very good humor, squeezed into the
crowd, quite white with flour, cursing the moment when I had
been seized with the idea of leaving the house and dashing into
the midst of all this confusion. From time to time a cavalry
soldier passed with unsheathed sword, made a motion to the
people to keep back in order not break up the corso, and accompanied
his gesture with some respectful and courteous
words. In front of me were four or five gamins, who, as soon
as the soldiers passed, dashed into the middle of the street,
between the carriages, and fought with their fists for the com-
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