Fabiola : or, The church of the catacombs - Digital Repository Services

12 OVBLE s. ir '////
lo, whore the wonndod, without beds or banda>
Then- fl
, ml,
among others,
! that poor Gnitton, n Belgian ! Tell me, Lor-nzo,
was ho seriously wounded?"
. >rman! There were not less tlrn;
:
"A 1
y, iiiul the surgeon gave him up. Ther
1 other Belgians, too, whose names I don't remember,
except Laigniol, a young man of eighteen. He told me lie received
a liall in the arm, aiid that it was then ho dropped his
pon."
"Courageous boy!" murmured Victor, "lie had abr.niudies
and his class-rooni to fly to the defence of tho
Holy Father."'
" But -would you believe it, Fra Paolo," continued tho nar-
rator, "all those brave young men had still the coiuvgo to jest
and laugh ? A Zouave, whose body a bullet had pierced, Lad
discussion with a Piedmontese. I couldn't
i in a lively
understand what they said, but it must have been something
comical, for the Zouaves laughed heartily."
" It must have been Tresvaux de Fraval," interrupted Jo-
seph ; "he's the best fellow I know always gay, always con-
ti'tit, and, above all, always talking. I never met him a single
time that he didn't greet me with some pleasantry."
" Another of those young men," continued Lorenzo, "was
.1, I think, Paolo or Poli."
" It's Poli, no doubt, the noble Oscar Poli," replied Vic-
tor.
" Precisely ; he had been wounded in the che^t. While he
was crawling painfully along by the church, he suddenly heard
himself called. That voice, coming from an obscure corner,
u to issue from a colorless and formless heap of blood-
'
What, my poor Poli, don't you recognize
I bandages.
me ?' murmured that plaintive voice.
' '
frii nd.
I'm your comrade, de Lacarie.'
'
No, indeed, my
' What ! it's you !'
'Yes, myself.' 'Aren't you dead, then?' 'No, not that I
know. '
The poor young soldier who lay in that corner had been
hit 1 iv a bullet that pierced both his cheeks. He was a ghastly
; t that moment. Antonio and I were moved to tears,
most surprised us was to see those young men, despite
their captivity, misery and suffering, with still courage and animation
enough to laugh and jest, simply
they were in the midst of some feast.
and joyously, as if
family. They were glad to learn that the Piedmontese, after
having long explored the environs, had gone away in the direction
of Aucona. Marietta's brother, however, was not in
a position to acquaint them with the indignities to which the
(intese then subjected their unfortunate prisoners in the
hospitals of Oscina, Alessandia, Genia, and many other places,
too.
Here is what one of those valiant Belgians Verecken,
Hevraerfc, Lacraix, and Callebaut, who formed part of tho live
hundred and fifty picked men with whom Colonel O'Reilly, for
twenty-four hours, defended the citadel of Spoleto against an
army of fifteen thousand, and who were afterwards led prisoners
to Genoa, where they arrived on October 4th wrote:
"After having been miserably transferred from one p:
another, without ever having Inul n fixed rei
>w at Genoa, oompleb n>, of the destiny 1
red for us, shut up in inl'erfed m:
with n nnin, without linen, without money,
and what do I say ? without a hope of ever teeing our fair
hind."
! was not that the fate of a crowd of other heroes who
had to undergo, on the one side, the (.augers
ou the other the horrors of captivity ?
of fatigue, and,
CHAPTER XV.
PRISONERS rUGITlVKS.
Victor and his two comrades, much more fortunate th'.n
their companions languishing in merciless and shameful captivity,
and suffering every ill-treatment from their barbarous
oppressors, were peacefully sheltered under the good hermit's
roof, or at the hospitable hearth of honest Luigi.
Now, one evening, a few days after the battle of Castelfidardo,
Joseph and Martin went to the hermitage to see their
wounded companion. Suddenly there were some knocks out-
side. The hermit immediately rose.
" Who's thtre ?" he asked.
" We're poor strangers, we've lost our way. Couldn't we
rest an instant under your roof to ask you for some directions
about our way ?"
Fra Paolo opened the door.
"Zouaves! Zouaves!" he cried, joyfully, at the sight of
three young soldiers standing on the threshold three poor fug-
"
tives of the Pontifical army. Welcome !" he continued ex-
tending his hand, " welcome !"
And they followed him into his modest dwelling.
" Here are comrades friends, my son," he taid, addressing
Victor.
Our young Belgians had hardly glanced at the first of the
three fugitives, when they all exclaimed joyfully :
"
It is you,
Van Gameren ! welcome !"
And Joseph and Martin rushed forward to shake hands with
their companion in arms. But the valiant Antwerpian tore
himself from their arms to cast himself at the wounded comrade's
p How.
" 1 But aren't they]ij;ht, my friend?" interrupted Victor,
"
smiling. Their hearts are pure, their consciences tranquil,
and death is for them only a blessed invitation to the never
ending feast, the glorious triumphs of heaven."
Lorenzo continued, for some time longer, to relate to his
auditors everthing inter, sting he had seen at Castelfidardo and
'. Then, when night came, ho brought Martin and
'i to his father's home, where they were received with
the greatest heartiness, and the sincerest affection.
Luigi, Lorenzo's and Marietta's father, was a good, honest
utj apparently about fifty. Bettina, his wife, a brisk,
messing little woman, was as good, as affable, and as
sincerely obliging as her husband himself.
The two Zouaves had hardly entered this "Victor, my
hospitable roof,
when they were received as if they really belonged to tho
dear comrade, I see you're wounded, you're
suffering ? Oh ! how I thought of you, how I trembled for
you when I lost sight of you in the retreat !"
"I believe all hope is not lost, my good Leo," replied the in-
"
valid. I've been wounded in the side, but I aireail
bitter, and to-day, for the first time, I have been able to le^vu
my bed."
Meanwhile, Fra Paolo hastened to place a seat for the young
Zouaves.
" And now," said the old man, "tell us the news while I
prepare a modest supper for you."
"
Tell me, first of all, Leo," said Victor, "what occurred to
yourself. Weren't you wounded as I feared?"
"No, thank God, my good friend. I didn't receive even the
slightest scratch. Only since that time my right ear's deaf.
It is the fault of a cursed ball that carried away a very little
bit of the ear, killing a man alongside me. But tho fight the
massacre ! Ah ! what a dreadful sight ! I've seen almost all
my companions fall, one after the other. Our battalion wax
almost entirely destroyed. And the Pope t e unhappy Pontiff
has lost all his possessions, for everywhere victory favors the
Piediuontee."
" True," replied Joseph; "but Ancona still holds out, for it
our own heroic commander. LOIVUJJO (old
is ably defended by
us to-day that up to this time the Piedmontese weren't able to
make a breach as large as a foot in the wall on the inland
side.
" But that noble, that heroic resistance is now, alas ! aimless
and hopeless at least, unless prompt succor guarantees and