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

I:
THE MOTHER. 51
" " " "
mother ! and Poor mother ! he did say in fact. So you
are coming from such a distance to see me, quite alone too and
on foot ; you have to walk so many miles in the sun ; you will
arrive in this great city, among all these people, without knowing
where I am ;
and you will have to ask where my barracks
are ;
then be on your feet for so long a time, alone, old, ill,
and exhausted ;
and perhaps you will lose your way and wander
about, worrying that you cannot find me. Ah, poor old
. . .
"
woman ! He kept his hands clasped and his eyes fixed upon
the wall, biting one lip and then the other, and closing his eyelids
to keep back the tears which were ready to fall. Then
"
repeated from time to time : " Poor old woman !
After which he passed both hands over his face, shook his
head, gave a sigh, sprang to his feet, and paced the room with
the hurried steps of a traveller. After a little he suddenly
" "
stopped. It must be time for her now ! He ran to the
window on the street, leaned out, looked to the right and left,
once, twice, thrice, but no one was to be seen. The blood
"
rushed to his head. Let me think of something else " he
!
said to himself ;
and so tried to drive the image of his mother
from his mind in order to pass this season of anxious expectation.
Drive away that !
image Poor fellow ! It was out of
the question, so he abandoned the idea.
"
Look, mother," he said aloud, shaking his two open hands
before his face,
" I love you so well, so well ! "
. . . He looked
around ;
there was no one ;
he continued " : More than any
thing else in the world "
And ! letting his clasped hands fall
upon the bed, he continued to shake his head gently as if to
signify more clearly by act the meaning of his last words.
"More than any thing in the world." Then suddenly he