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

A BUNCH OF FLOWERS. 133
They do not allow him to go
home when one of his family is
ill,
do they, major
?
" '
" '
It is rather rare !
Look !
'
'
'
replied the latter.
exclaimed my mother. '
I am willing to wager
that that is what makes him sad. And meanwhile he is comdemned
to stand there in the midst of all those people who are
amusing themselves by singing and shouting ... I cannot
get him out of my mind.'
" The major smiled.
" '
How
can I help it '
? replied my mother ;
'
I was born so.'
" When the circuit was ended, the carriage was about to pass by
the soldier again. My mother, seizing
the moment when the
major and my father were not looking, handed me a bunch of
flowers, pointed quickly to the soldier, and whispered in my
ear :
'
Throw it to him.' I rose to my feet, and, held as usual
by my sash, prepared to '
fling the flowers.
You said that one
there, did you not ? '
I asked once more. Yes, yes, quick !
'
'
We were seven or eight steps away ;
the carriage stopped,
went on, here we are.
is !
'
I replied proudly.
'
'
Courage said my mother. ' There he
!
The bouquet had described a beautiful
curve in the air, and fallen right on the breast of the soldier, between
the buckle of his belt and the hand which held the reins.
He started as if in a dream, seized the bouquet almost involuntarily,
raised his eyes with surprise, saw me ;
with both hands ;
I made him a sign
he smiled and looked fixedly at me until the
carriage disappeared. My little heart beat furiously ; my
mother had become calm ;
the major and my father had not
seen any thing. Before making another circuit we left the corso
and went home.
" I saw the soldier again, ten or twelve days later, in the pub-