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

DEPARTURE AND RETURN. 331
bardian, and very handsome fellow, Edoardo B. He was in my company at
college you have a photograph of us all taken together, hunt it up ; ;
he is
the first on the right, seated on the ground with a cigar in his mouth I remember
it perfectly. See how he died his :
regiment had stopped opposite
the enemy's cannon he was seated on
;
a drum, with lowered head, and poking
the clod between his feet with the point of his sword. Suddenly he
fell back with a cry ;
a bit of grape-shot had wounded him in the chest and
killed the horse of the adjutant who was behind him. He died after five
hours of horrible suffering. Poor friend ! Who could have foretold this
when we were studying for our last examinations at college, in the wretched
little room on the fifth floor, by the light of a taper, with those copy-books
and that can of water colored with smoke ;
when you had so many bright
hopes and were so happy
!
. . .
The answer to this letter is from the brother ;
the mother
had gone into her bed with a fever.
" From time to time," the
brother writes,
" she becomes delirious and calls yon."
The army
falls back toward the Oglio.
PIADENA, s/// July.
. . . It is very sad and painful to be continually crossing villages and
cities between two rows of immovable, mute, cold people, who gaze at us
with staring eyes, as if we were an unknown army. Who has courage
enough to raise his eyes to those people's faces ? I seem to read on every
countenance
"
: Good
"
! brave ! Was it worth while to make so much
noise to cut such a figure afterward ? The regiments file silently by with
lowered heads, like a procession of monks. It is a sight that hurts me
;
my thoughts run back to you, mother ;
I need you sorely. Pardon me
;
I could at least have the consolation of returning home without one arm, I
might say "I have won one arm less at least." But to return home unharmed,
healthful, stout, and red enough to cause a pasha's envy, : seems
really shameful and unbearable. How much bile is stirred up by
if
this little
glass which, no matter how 'hard I work, will persist in showing one chin
below the other ! I hate this insolent, new-born creature, which seems to
laugh at the misfortunes of the country ! I am joking, but it is an indigestible
joke. We are marching under the mid-day sun ;
on the right and left
of the road are gardens, flowery fields, and villas ; through the garden gates
we see in the distance, at the end of the avenues, gentlemen in their shirtsleeves
stretched out under the shade of the arbors, young ladies dressed in,