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

204 MILITARY LIFE.
with its
huge illuminated windows ;
look there at that sentinel's
box, that muffled man, erect and motionless like a marble
statue. He has been there for hours, without moving, without
uttering a word, with his right hand quite benumbed on the
barrel of his musket, his feet in the snow, his eyes cast down
and fixed, so that they seem to be counting the large flakes
which fall around him. From time to time his eyes half close,
his head drops slowly on his shoulder ;
but instantly an inner
voice warns him, and he raises his head quickly, opens and dilates
his eyes, glances around rapidly and vigilantly, as if to
compensate his conscience for that moment of languor and inertia.
Look at him ;
even the poorest have a bit of house, fire,
and bed ;
but he has none.
These thoughts passed through my mind one night at the
end of January, when I was on guard with about forty soldiers
on that square and in front of that palace.
And I walked,
thinking thus, at a short distance from the door, measuring
with slow step a small portion of the square that was free from
snow, and turning my eyes now and then up toward the lighted
windows, from which there came to my ears a confused harmony
of flutes and violins, and a dull, heavy sound of feet,
moving
in cadence tread over an immense floor. Then I
looked into the immense vestibule, at the lamps gleaming with
crystal, the carpets
and vases of flowers scattered over the
marble floor, and the walls covered with tapestries and laurels.
Toward the front, between me and the door, was a coming and
going of grand carriages, a shouting of coachmen, a continuous
mounting and descending of men and women, a hastening
the carriage doors, a reverential opening of these, a respectful
presentation of the hand, a long sweeping of dresses, an un-
to