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

THE CAMP, 221
howl certain bacchanal songs, raising their trenchers in
both hands at the end of every verse, burying their
noses in them, and taking down the bad wine in long swallows
;
then a waving of caps in demonstration of their joy,
a reciprocal clapping of hands on the back, and a sharp and
surly shouting of " Hurrah for the blonde," with certain grins,
a monkey-like puckering up of the nose, and the attitudes of
satyrs. Around the group of more harmonious voices is a
small circle of spectators, and in the midst of the chorus there
is a director, who marks the time with his finger, and reproves
any one who goes out of tune, performing his part in the most
serious way, with a modest face, and glancing around as he
does so at the audience, which continues to increase.
Then there are the solitary and melancholy ones who take
refuge from all that racket,
and to whom the music and shouting,
even when heard at a distance, causes sadness and contempt.
They wander around the deserted portions of the
camp, or seat themselves on the edges of the ditch, with their,
feet just above the water, poking the sand and stones at the
bottom with a willow stick, or else they lie stretched out across
the opening of the tent, their faces buried in their hands, the
smoked-out pipe in their fingers, and their eyes following in a
dazed sort of way the beautiful little flame-colored clouds
caused by the setting sun. Their eyes run over the tops of
those mountains and they think what may be behind : a plain ;
then, other mountains; and behind these? another plain;
and so on over mountains, valleys, and unknown plains, in
imagination, until suddenly they discern the dear and wellknown
hills of their own home, and they contemplate with a
mingling of tenderness and grief that sunset which they have