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

THE MOTHER. 55
hundred times more than the most beautiful kingly mantle.
The soldiers of the guard grouped respectfully on one side,
looked motionless and silently upon that holy embrace, and I
looked too, as I was on guard duty that day, and stood near
in the door of my room.
" Come, compose yourself, mother ;
be brave ;
don't cry so. My
God !
why should you weep ? " the son kept saying in a caressing
tone, as he pushed back behind her ears with both hands
the hair which had been scattered over the
forehead in the impulse
of the first embrace. The old woman continued to sob
hard, without weeping or without words ; until, in raising her
eyes to her son's face, she smiled, drew a long breath, as if
lifting a weight from her heart, and " murmuring, My son "
!
"
embraced him again. Are
" you tired ? asked the soldier
anxiously, tearing himself from her arms. "
A little," replied
the woman, smiling.
She glanced around in search of a place
where she could lay down the great bundle which she had
door of my room. " Oh, the officer !
brought with her. " Come in here," I said, throwing open the
" she said, turning toward
me, and making a courtesy ;
" thank you, sir." The
soldier was a trifle confused. " Come in."- I repeated ;
"come
in." They both entered timidly, and approached the little
table ;
the old woman laid her bundle on it,
and I moved to
one side.
" Let me see you, my son ;
turn around ;
let me look
at you," the woman began to say. The soldier, smiling,
turned to show himself on every side. And the mother drawing
back, glancing at him from head to footj
and clasping her
hands, exclaimed affectionately
:
"
dressed like this ! And the poor
" How handsome you are,
old woman felt herself re-