IX

We had now to resume our journey; we had now to find water to drink,

for during the entire day our lips had not touched a single drop and

that with throats dried by the eating of chocolate which in truth is

not the best sort of food when one has nothing to drink. We rapidly

descended the hill and traveled for a short distance along the road

until we came to a cross-road where the suffering arms of Our Saviour

were extended upon a wide cross. At the base of the crucifix the signs

of the passion were simply represented, and I recognized the hammer,

the pincers, the sponge and the crown of thorns. We passed through the

cultivated fields which we had seen from on high; we jumped across

little ditches which separated us from the road and circling the branch

of the Livenza where it disappears in a tunnel, whence it is absorbed

by the electric factories, we arrived near the furnace. Immediately

afterward we had to begin to climb again. I realized that we had not

been foresighted in many things, and my shoes were surely not the kind

suitable for a long cross-country tramp in mountainous regions.

However, how could I have explained to the Austrians, had they captured

us while landing, an aviator wearing shoes bound with iron? My soldier

wore heavy, rough shoes, and I had great difficulty in following him in

the steep climb; he changed his for mine, and I continued the road with

less difficulty. We ascended rapidly; all the plain opened beneath our

eyes. Below in the village of Sarone many lights glittered. A cart

ascended heavily along the road leading to the little town and we

distinctly heard the tinkling of the bells and the frequent lashes of

the whip. Everything was silent.... Occasionally a distant voice

reached us carrying sounds which were Italian. We had found again the

mule-path over which we had decided to pass, and after following it for

a long time we ascended still farther along the ragged, rocky edge.

Suddenly, at a cave, the road lost itself and we had to find our way

alone. If only we could have found a little spring to quench our

thirst, but the unmerciful chain of mountains did not seem at present

to offer us any watery vein. Perhaps if we could carry ourselves a

little farther up we might find one of those holes which gather rain

water, so we climbed higher, we climbed forever.

Every sign of vegetation had ceased. The ground was rocky and so

irregular that we had to guard well our steps lest we fall in the deep

valleys which opened at our feet. We were beginning also to feel tired,

for it was many hours since we had last tasted food and our thirst was

becoming greater. A searchlight had been lit in the distance and its

light fell full on us. We hoped they had not seen us. On the field the

green lights which annoyed us so the previous night renewed their

fires. Probably the Austrian planes were preparing to depart as soon as

the moon arose. We descended a steep valley at the bottom of which

there ought to be water and the deep voice of the wind which blew

between the rocks gave us the impression of hearing the murmur of a

stream at the bottom. The descent was long and difficult and at the

last when we had reached the point where the two broad bases of the

mountain meet, we found nought but two enormous rocks which marked the

impetuous course of a torrent, but had not a single drop of water

between them. It seemed well then to follow the bottom of the valley,

for there was no longer any reason why we should struggle through the

high mountain, and perhaps we should be able to find some isolated

house where we should have to decide to knock and trust to luck that we

should encounter no gendarmes. We were continually descending. The

rocky bottom of the torrent changed into a paved street. Beneath us

glittered several lights which marked the site of some dwelling. We

hastened our walk and, having reached a little hill overlooking the

village, I stopped and suggested to Bottecchia that he descend

cautiously to the first house to see if he could discover any

indication that might suggest the presence of enemy soldiers. If he

found nothing suspicious we were to take courage in both hands and dare

knock at some isolated hamlet.

Bottecchia descended and I saw him disappear in the night. The moon had

risen and everything was stained with its pale, yellowish light. I hid

in a shadowy spot and awaited the return of my soldier. The few minutes

he stayed away seemed interminable. Finally with great joy I saw him

and when he got back to me he reported that he had found nothing to

hinder us from carrying out our project. We continued along the rocky

road and approached the village. Two small houses in front of us

clearly indicated the poverty of the inhabitants. We chose the poorer

one and knocked at the low, narrow door. No answer. We knocked again,

and then knocked at a shutter and a closed window. Finally some noise!

Someone had been awakened and sleepy voices reached us in the silence

of the night. Immediately after the frightened voice of a woman asked

us in the Venetian dialect, “Who are you and what do you want?”

“We are Italians and we ask you mercifully for a drop of water.”

Someone arose and shortly after we heard the slow heavy footsteps of an

old man coming down the wooden stairs.

“Who are you Christians traveling at so late an hour?”

“We are prisoners who have escaped from a camp near Gemona. For pity’s

sake give us a draught of water to drink. Tell us, too, what village is

this? Are there any soldiers? Are there gendarmes?”

“This village is Sarone, but you can feel safe because all the soldiers

left for the front several days ago and even the gendarmes who were

here guarding the village have followed the brigade.”

At last we breathed.

“Thank heavens they have gone,” continued the old man in a tired voice,

“for if things had kept on this way, we would not have had a single

blade of grass left. They have taken everything away from us. Imagine,

they have begun to dig up even the new potatoes which are no bigger

than a pigeon’s egg. Everything, every vegetable which comes within

their reach is devoured at once. Imagine, they even cook the tendrils

of the vines in their soup.... But you do not look as if you had

suffered much, you especially,” he said turning towards me, “you must

have been a cook in some concentration camp.”

I did not answer but greedily drank the water from the cup he had

offered me, and no liquor, no beverage has ever tasted better to me

than that draught of water did.

“Tell me, my good man, why have the soldiers left for the front?”

“Why, don’t you know? You seem to be little informed of what is

happening here. For the past two months we have seen nothing but cannon

and soldiers passing and it seems that shortly the offensive will

begin. If only they would put an end to this terrible war!”

This was the first military information I succeeded in obtaining in

enemy territory.... Then the offensive was imminent! We must hasten on

toward Vittorio to gather more exact information. I did not ask

anything further of the old man for I did not wish to make him

suspicious, and after asking about what roads we should follow, we left

him on the threshold of his house. We believed we had traversed a large

tract of land, we believed we had walked in the right direction but

instead, after many hours of anxiety and errors, we had found ourselves

back in the same village. Thank heaven there were no gendarmes in the

village and that the old man told us of a short cut which led to where

we had planned to arrive before dawn. We crossed the deserted village

and reached a fountain which filled a square tank by the flow from its

two jets. Oh, how pleasant is the noise of falling water to one who is

thirsty! We drank our fill of the delicious liquid. When we had passed

the last houses we turned to the left and ascended a hill along a safe

path. The route we had to follow was in exactly the opposite direction

to the one we had decided was correct and had intended to follow; we

were somewhat reassured, our step was more elastic and we felt less

weary than before. We passed near several demolished houses about which

there were deep holes. Perhaps these were places where our soldiers had

resisted. The path broadened and almost became a mule-path. We had

emerged on a courtyard, and a dog tied to a long rope which ran along a

suspended wire came toward us barking furiously. As soon as he saw we

were dressed in civilian clothes he began to wag his tail and make a

fuss over us. A good sign, thought we! Even the dogs here recognize

friends. The house was large and indicative of a certain amount of

comfort. A notice had been posted over a door. I approached to read it

and recognized a manifest of the troops of occupation, with the enemy

eagle at its head. “This warehouse has been set apart as a deposit for

ammunition of the Imperial Royal Austro-Hungarian army. The inhabitants

of this house are guarantors of the safe preservation of the same.

Whoever, even indirectly, becomes guilty of damaging war materials will

have to answer with his person and will have to face a firing squad.”

One cannot accuse the enemy of not having expressed clearly his

intentions.

We continued along the path, ascended the hill and saw beneath us the

glittering lights of a large town; from the railroad station the clank

and hiss of a steam locomotive in motion reached us. The city on the

plain beneath was certainly Canova, where the Austrians had constructed

an important railroad station. Dawn was not distant and soon we should

have to hide and rest for a while. It would be better therefore to

ascend the mountain awhile to get away from the frequented region. Hill

followed hill, at times separated by a deep valley through which a

brook flowed, and it was a great relief to us to think that we should

not now lack water. Above, the heavy droning of the motors of the enemy

planes following one another with mechanical regularity, continued. We

arrived in a place where the rugged rocks left an opening barely large

enough for a tiny road to wind up towards the mountain. On one side the

ground sloped more gently and there were occasional bushes which

protected us from indiscreet glances. It seemed best for us to lie

behind one of these when we decided to rest for a few hours. A heavy

sleep overcame us as soon as we stretched out on the ground and even my

soldier permitted weariness to get the better of him.

I do not know how many hours passed; I do not know how long we forgot

ourselves and everything about us; I only remember awakening at the

sound of the rhythmic, cadenced tread of many soldiers’ feet on the

march. I tried to understand what was happening and looking through the

branches a few yards ahead of us I saw a Hungarian battalion ascending

the rocky road beneath. By good luck no one discovered us. Shortly

afterward we heard the noise of shots, indicating that the battalion

was at target practice. Soon we should have to renew our journey,

keeping far from the plain so as to meet no living soul. Beneath us,

surrounded by a vast garden, we recognized the Castle of Moncenigo with

its broad, heavy walls.

Hunger now began to make itself felt insistently. The little chocolate

we had with us would certainly not suffice to appease us. We knocked at

a small house and the old man who opened the door surveyed us

suspiciously. We asked him for a bit of bread, and added that we were

willing to pay well for it, but he looked at us with a wondering air as

if bread were an unheard-of thing.

“I have nothing for you,” he said, “and I believe you had better make

off at once because this morning the gendarme who usually comes to get

the milk for the command hasn’t shown up yet and I shouldn’t like to

have him find you here.”

The word “gendarme” was so significant that we did not make him repeat

it and hastening our steps we endeavored to place the greatest possible

distance between us and that inhospitable house. We reached a vineyard

where a man with a long, unkempt beard and a sort of apron all stained

with green, was sprinkling sulphur about the vines. A youngster of

about ten was helping him. My soldier recognizing him, saluted.

“Good morning, Andrea. I bet you don’t know who I am. I am one of the

Bottecchia from Minelle, and as you see, after numerous vain attempts I

have succeeded in escaping from the concentration camp at Gemona with

my comrade here.”

“Oh, you are the driver who used to bring me the casks before the war.

Now we don’t talk any more of casks or of wine; they have drunk it all

up and in December when they wanted to build bridges across the Piave

they took away even the vessels in which we used to keep it. This year,

even if we had any grapes, we should not know where to put them, but

the good Lord has taken care of this and so have the Germans who hitch

their horses by the vines. As you see they are nearly all ruined, and

then without any sulphur what kind of a crop can you expect? Were I to

tell you of all the subterfuges we had to resort to, to keep this bit

of sulphur I am spreading about the vines, it would take me till

to-morrow morning. Would that sulphur were the only thing we did not

have!” A painful expression spread over his face. “We don’t even have

any bread. So these poor blameless people are dying of hunger!”

This sad news so impressed my soldier that he asked anxiously after his

family. “Do you think my people are still alive?”

“Yes, I should believe they were, but one never knows for certain these

times,” he answered carelessly and indifferently.

“Do you think it would be possible for me to get as far as home?”

“I would not advise you to try. Even I stay at home as little as

possible, and furthermore, at Minelle there are always many gendarmes

about. If you want to stop at some place it would be better for you to

look up someone on the side of the mountain: for instance, your

relatives who live near Fregona. That region is less frequented and you

might find a way to settle down there and be able to see some of your

people occasionally.”

The house mentioned by the mountaineer was the very place towards which

we had been directed. We took leave of him; I caressed for a moment his

child who stared at me with his large, frightened eyes. We continued

our journey. The scenery which extended beneath us was truly beautiful.

Frequent villages were scattered about it. We followed a small path

among the high trunks of a wood of chestnut trees; this road seemed

safe to us because it was improbable that anyone who did not know the

ground inch by inch would venture here. We needed to be especially

cautious when compelled to cross the road. Then we had to take a

thousand precautions, we had to resort to a multitude of wiles lest we

be surprised by some gendarme. For instance we had to go along the road

for a short distance if we wished to reach a certain other wood on the

opposite hill. It was with great precaution we left the shrubbery for

that purpose. The road appeared deserted and we began to cross, but

just as we had reached the center, we saw two men in uniform, with

rifles slung over their shoulders turn the nearby corner. Only a second

passed, but in that second I clearly perceived upon their sleeves the

black and yellow band. Not a moment to be lost. Those two figures were

two gendarmes and we needed to take to our heels at once in the hope

that they had not seen us. Fortunately, immediately on the other side

of the road the wood began again and we ran madly, changing our

direction often to hide our tracks. We reached the thickest wood, and

were compelled to stop, being out of breath. From above a cluster of

rocks, thorny bushes curved their branches; we crouched under them and

for a seemingly interminable length of time waited in the expectation

of seeing one of those figures on our trail. But it appeared no one had

followed us. Again we thanked heaven and our clothes which enabled us

to get off so easily! After such an episode we had to make up for time

lost. It was noon and if we wished to arrive at the house of my

soldier’s aunts before nightfall we had to hasten.

The weather was still fair, in fact, it was almost too warm for us, who

had to do so much walking. Heavy clouds veiled at times the disk of the

sun and threw huge shadows on the mountain sides. To our left rose the

hills of San Martino and upon them the village of Minelle where the

relatives of Bottecchia lived. My soldier stopped for a moment to

recognize his dwelling. Suddenly, having climbed over the ridge of a

hill which obstructed the view, there appeared before us the chain of

mountains surrounding Vittorio Veneto and pricked up between the sides

of two hills there rose the lofty spire of the belfry of Fregona. The

steeple seemed very near to us, though distances among the mountains

are very deceiving. At last the road became familiar to us. Bottecchia

knew it in every detail. We passed near a little wooden house with a

sloping roof all covered with reeds closely bound together. An old

woman and a girl were standing before the door. The girl was eating.

This did not make us linger, but these two followed us with so goodly a

smile and gave us so pleasant a “Good day,” that for a moment we forgot

all danger and stopped to speak with them. They wanted to know whence

we came. Hearing we had traveled afar they inquired whether we were

hungry and offered us a cup of milk. We drank it with avidity

especially as it was offered with such homely grace and by the gentle

hands of the pretty brunette who looked at us with interest.

“It is so seldom,” she said, “that one meets able-bodied men now. The

few remaining were recently taken away by the gendarmes who have now

increased their guard, and no one whose papers are not exactly in

accord with all the regulations can risk staying in any house or

traveling on the roads. And you too, if you are not strictly within the

orders and if you have not, in addition to your legitimization papers,

your classification papers, also refrain from showing yourselves or

they will take you to headquarters. We have the good fortune to be

living in an isolated spot and are so poor that they do not bother us.

Our great fortune is a little cow which we succeeded in hiding from the

very beginning, and which we keep always in the deep woods so that no

one can lay hands on her. When do you think the Italians will come to

liberate us? And to think there were some who, at the retreat, said we

were all comrades and that the Germans would treat us as the Italians

had. In the first place they are Germans, and if I had no other reason

for hating them I should always remember that I have two brothers

fighting on the other side. One is a corporal in a regiment of Alpini,

and let us hope he was not taken prisoner, for I’d rather know he was

dead than see him subjected to the privations and indescribable

sufferings endured by those unfortunates who have fallen into their

hands. Tell me, do you think our soldiers will be able to resist the

tremendous offensive they are preparing? We are terribly afraid for we

have seen such huge preparations. The other day I was passing near

Vittorio and I saw them unloading a quantity of cases with red bands. A

soldier from Trieste told me those cases were filled with projectiles

containing a new asphyxiating gas from which the Austrians expect

extraordinary results. Damn them!... If I could find one of them alone

and I had your strong fists I swear I should not be afraid to kill him

as one does a mad dog.”

Such deep faith moved me and I knew not how to hide from her the force

of my thoughts and sentiments.

“Rest assured; wait yet awhile; wait until the grain is ripe and the

grapes on the vines begin to redden; for I tell you truly that the time

of your liberation cannot be far distant.”

She looked at me, and reaching forth for my hand asked, “But who are

you who know the secrets of the future?”

“I cannot disclose my name, but I come from afar, and you must ask no

more. All you have suffered recently will be repaid to you; for all the

tears you have shed you will live again in the great joyous days of

triumph, for you have believed, and your faith cannot be deceived. I

see you are poor and I want to leave you a slight token; some day, not

far distant, you may learn my name and rank.” I took a bill from the

roll of crowns I held in my hand, and we hastened away before the young

woman had time to thank us or question us further.

X

Throughout the entire day we heard continued puffings of steam

locomotives; we noticed an uninterrupted movement of trains carrying

equipment to the station of Costa. There also passed a long train full

of cannon, and wagons whose canvasses flapped in the breeze. The engine

proceeded slowly and from the smokestack an acrid, nauseating odor

escaped. I wondered what the Austrians were burning in their furnaces

since I did not believe they could have much coal.

We passed the juncture of the Friga and the Meschio beyond the village

of Capella and now only a short stretch of road separated us from the

house we wished to reach. We followed the foamy course of the torrent

and, arriving at an intersecting point we saw approaching us a truck

full of hay, drawn by the arms of a young mountaineer. We saluted him

in our dialect and he answered with a pronounced Tuscan accent. That

boy certainly was not a native of our regions; he must have escaped

from prison and through some good fortune succeeded in establishing

himself with a peasant family. It was strange that the Austrian

gendarmes, among whom there are many Dalmatians and Istrians, had not

noticed his manner of speaking which was not at all like that of our

mountaineers.

We resumed our journey, eager to reach the coveted goal. By following a

country road we suddenly found ourselves in front of a group of houses.

Near the small church a peasant, seated on the ground, was swinging his

scythe and at the noise of our footsteps turned his emaciated face

towards us, eying us suspiciously. We crossed a courtyard where the

chickens, frightened at our footsteps, scurried quickly away and we

found ourselves on a little bridge which crossed the Friga. The road

continued towards the mill. We knew the village and further recognized

it from the photographs made from our aeroplanes. Bottecchia started

running and I ran after him. At last we arrived at a wide courtyard

where there were gathered many men whom I did not know. They were

seated on a narrow bench and from a large ornate bowl of majolica they

helped themselves to hot, smoking soup and in their hands they held

broad yellow slices of _polenta_ (pudding made of Indian meal). The

door of the house was ajar. Within the large kitchen a brilliant,

playful fire was flickering. From the massive gridirons hung a large

round caldron. A woman bending over it mixed and turned the yellow

flour at intervals. The woman had her shoulders turned towards us and

Bottecchia sought in vain among those present for someone he knew. We

approached her, and lo, from a side door there appeared a little

nervous woman with an emaciated face and bony hands seamed with heavy

blue veins.

“Cietta, Cietta,” cried my soldier, “stare at my face and do not

tremble. It is I, really I, your Giovannino!” The old woman stared at

him with her eyes opened wide. Her hands fell heavily upon her apron;

she leaned against the table as not to fall. Suddenly, as she wavered,

Giovannino took her in his arms, and embraced and caressed her a long

time. Finally she regained her self-possession and passed her lean hand

over his forehead.

“Let me look at you, let me touch you, let me feel the life of my life.

But how you have changed; how big you have become, how handsome!” She

smiled through her tears. “Do you remember the happy days when we were

all together and I used to take you on my knees and sing sweet

lullabies to you, before nightfall? Then no one could harm you, but

now, instead!... Tell me, are you in danger? Tell me is anyone

following you, for I am afraid, terribly afraid.” She eyed him steadily

as though to divine his secret; she threw her arms around him as though

to protect him. “Tell me they will not come to take you away. Are you

tired? Are you hungry? Ah, we have nothing to give you!”

The poor woman, terribly agitated, ran from one end of the kitchen to

the other not knowing where to begin. She wanted to do everything at

once, she wanted to feed us, she wanted to call her daughter, to

confide in her sister, to tell the old men outside to watch out for us

and warn us.

“And who is this man? Is he your comrade? When did you succeed in

escaping? Do you come from afar?”

We tried to calm her, to tell her that no danger threatened us, and she

poured some milk into two deep cups and cut for us two enormous slices

of _polenta_, not too large however for our appetites.

“Cietta, Cietta,” Giovanni began, “rest assured, do not be afraid.

Don’t you see how well we look, and how happy? This is an Italian

officer,” and Bottecchia made a mysterious sign of silence by placing

his finger before his mouth.

“What? An Italian officer?” Everyone gathered round me.

“It is safe to talk here, isn’t it? All those here are good Italians?”

“Yes, you may talk, but be very careful because now one is not safe

even in his own house, and at any moment, when one least expects it, he

is likely to be dispatched to the other world before he even has time

to recommend his soul to the sacred Madonna.”

The sister of Cietta, who expressed in her thin face a suppressed

grief, making it all the more pitiful, took me by the hands and said

with sobs, “I too, had a son, big and strong like you and they have

killed him. One day as he was walking here in front of the house a

platoon of Germans arrived for the requisitions, and he, frightened,

began to run down the slope. One of the gendarmes called after him to

halt, but my poor dear one, believing himself far enough to be out of

danger, continued running without obeying. The gendarme at once aimed

his rifle and fired. He fell in a pool of blood with a leg and an arm

shattered. We lifted him up. He was pale and did not utter a word. For

a long time we nursed him here because I preferred to keep him under my

care, because he wanted to die near his mother, but at length they took

him away from me to the hospital, where his condition grew worse every

day, every hour. The wounds would not heal and after two months of

indescribable suffering he died on the night when the swallows

returned. I always see him before me as he was, strong as you; but

taller, yes, taller than you.” As she spoke she clutched my arms as

though in pressing my flesh she pressed the flesh of the son she had

lost. “Who will bring my boy back to me, who will bring him back? Oh,

unjust war, oh, ruthless war, and you German assassins, may you be

damned forever! May the stain of the blood of that innocent lad fall

upon you and your children so that throughout all eternity you never

shall have peace!”

Softly I pressed her hand and whispered, “Courage, courage, life is

made up of terrible sorrows and we must face them bravely and with

resignation, but God is just and your appeal to Him in malediction is

worth maybe more than the fire of a thousand guns. The day shall come

when they will have to pay, and pay in blood the measure of your sighs

and all these your tears.”

I asked the mistress of the house who the people were about us and she

answered that they were refugees from villages along the Piave,

especially San Stefano and Valdobiadine, now under the fire of our

guns. They had had to abandon everything. The enemy did not even allow

them to take with them their mattresses and the most necessary things,

so that they were now compelled to sleep on the ground. Among the

refugees there was a man, about fifty years old, whose heavy skeleton

expressed the strength of his days now past. He approached me, looked

at me cautiously and asked, “Is it really true that you are an Italian

officer? If you are an officer you ought to try to get to the other

side, to cross the lines so as to tell them on the other side what the

Austrians are preparing because for the past two months, both night and

day, we have seen nothing but thousands of cannon and interminable

lines of soldiers and wagons passing along the roads.”

“Yes, it is true, I am an Italian officer and I have been sent here to

do exactly what you have said, to try to find out something. I am an

aviator and I landed here with an aeroplane to try to learn and

communicate to our forces the day of the offensive and everything else

I can gather about the enemy’s plans. And you who are good Italians, if

you really believe in our cause, if you really hope on some not distant

day to see our troops return and if all of you do not wish to die here

of hunger, everyone of you must, in all seriousness, help me, for all

has been organized, all has been prepared. We Italians have the habit

of being enthusiastic at the beginning but do not always have enough

seriousness and constancy to carry a project through to the end. Now, I

want you to act as soldiers for me, I want each one of you to choose a

sector in which to act, but the method of obtaining information must be

the one I suggest, must be so organized that the reports are safe, that

I may communicate them without doubts to our headquarters.”

Giovanni was talking with his aunt who was telling him of all the many

trials and tribulations she had had to endure since our retreat. She

anxiously asked him of news of her sons on the other side.

“Tell me, then you are not jesting? You have really seen Pietro? And is

Antonio still in the artillery? And Uncle Baldassarre who went with his

family to Italy, has he anything to eat? Has he found work?”

“Cietta, Cietta, why didn’t you heed me, why didn’t you follow the

advice of Antonio who wanted you at all costs to follow him to the

other side? Had you listened to him you would not now be in so perilous

a position for it seems to me that unless our soldiers hurry over we

shall all soon run the risk of dying of hunger.”

“You have spoken the truth; the corn meal for that _polenta_ which you

ate came from a hiding place under the stairs; but we always fear lest

the gendarmes will take it away, because they go from house to house

and sound the walls to see if they are solid. If they are hollow, then

they at once begin to dig for hidden treasure, and if they succeed in

finding anything they not only take it away but they begin to maltreat

the people in the house. Our neighbor, the woman at the mill, has been

dangerously ill. A platoon of Croatians in trying to tear a necklace

from her throat treated her so roughly that she fainted and she had to

stay in the hospital for more than a month.”

“Cietta, we have some money, if that can help you.”

“But what can one do with money since gold is the only thing worth

anything here. We have returned to the old custom of barter. Nothing

can be had without merchandise and one is fortunate if he can find a

bit of flour in exchange for linen, but no one will ever give

merchandise for money. The only money which still has a little value is

the Italian.”

With anxiety I bethought me of what we should do with the precious roll

to which we had attached so much importance and which apparently was

not to be of great assistance.

“Cietta, if we were to remain here for a while to fulfill our mission,

could you house us?” asked Giovanni who at last felt the need of

expressing himself and of making known our plan.

As an answer the old woman ran to the door and approaching her daughter

asked her anxiously whether she had stationed the children around the

house and if someone was watching from the windows to avoid any

surprise. The refugee tried to reassure her by telling her that the

hour in which the gendarmes usually made their rounds was still far

distant, but the poor old woman would not listen to reason and with a

worried expression turned to Bottecchia.

“No, no, it is not possible for you to remain here. Almost every night,

when we least expect it, we see platoons of soldiers arriving who, with

the pretext of seeing whether there are prisoners or deserters in the

house, begin to search from cellar to attic in all our rooms always

hoping to find something which they can take away. There is no spot so

hidden that it escapes their notice and even were you to hide in the

hay-loft, they often climb up even to that to see if there is someone

hidden in the forage. If you want to stay nearby you can sleep in a

little isolated stable hidden in the wood which descends towards the

Friga. Ever since the Germans have been here, no one has ever gone in

that direction, and I am certain they do not know that under the thick

foliage of the trees there is that little stable.”

“Then we have no time to lose,” I said turning toward the refugee who

had lighted his pipe.

“Do you see this tobacco?” he said as he puffed a mouthful of smoke

into the air. “You would believe this tobacco was real, instead of

which it is mostly crushed plantain leaves which the Austrians sell in

small packages at three crowns apiece. I only wish we could still buy

it. This I got from certain Russians who guard the live stock and I had

to give them in exchange a goodly amount of flour.”

“Now mark my words well, and forget about the tobacco, the Russians and

the live stock. You ought to go to your own village, near the regions

of San Stefano where someone surely has succeeded in remaining on his

own land; in the house of this someone there must be some Austrian

soldiers. Well, you should do your utmost to get me some postcards or

newspapers which the soldiers leave in the houses. These postcards can

be far more useful than you suspect. Along the road try to enter as

many houses as possible and in every one, without arousing suspicion,

try to steal some mail. Newspapers alone will suffice, but be sure the

address is not missing because I should not know what to do with

unaddressed postcards and newspapers.”

The old man looked as if he had understood me; he seemed to have

entered into the spirit of my reasoning and answered, “I have a cousin

whose house near Miane the Austrians have taken as their headquarters,

and I am sure he will be able to give me some interesting news. Then I

know a refugee from Segusin who is a clerk at the headquarters of Tappa

di Vittorio. He is always frequenting the Austrians and ought to be

able to give you some important information.”

“Very well, very well. By the way, to-morrow you will have to pass

through Vittorio to reach the valley. When you have arrived on the

further side of the clock tower, in front of the wheat market you will

see a large mansion. Enter and ask for a man called De Luca. He is one

of my agents and I should like to see him as soon as possible.”

“I understand,” answered the old man in a thoughtful way, “but how

shall I get to your agent, for I know that in the house you speak of

the Germans have established their headquarters.”

“That does not matter, that does not matter,” I answered trying to

conceal the emotions aroused by the news that there were in truth enemy

officers in my house. “I am certain that in so large a house they have

left a room vacant for my agent. In case the Germans are no longer

there find out where they have gone. Then, above all, I beg you to tell

this secretary to show himself as soon as possible because I absolutely

must talk to him. He is a staunch Italian isn’t he?”

“Yes, I can vouch for this. I believe that now they are all loyal

Italians. Would that my children had succeeded in escaping to the other

side! Would they were not here with me! I’d rather have them in the

trenches with our soldiers than here with me, subject to the violence

of the gendarmes and the drunken soldiers. For every day it seems as if

they will take them away and put them at work in the interior of

Austria where they will certainly die of hunger.”

A young lean boy with large blue eyes expressive of calm and goodness

entered the kitchen at this point. His emaciated, thin face showed his

past sufferings and the hunger endured.

“Here is Rino, the oldest of my boys. He too, will try to help you to

the best of his ability.”

Giovannino’s intentions were far from wrong; he was searching for a way

in which to get something to eat.

“Listen, Cietta, if you can’t find a way in which to get flour, send

for my sister at San Martino. You told me she was still grinding the

flour for the Austrian command, and who knows but she may be able to

take a little away. Anyway we must tell her I am here because I must

see her, for she can be of great use to us in our undertaking.”

“We’ll do anything you want, but for mercy’s sake, for mercy’s sake,

don’t let yourselves be caught. You do not know these savages yet, you

do not know what they are capable of doing. After having taken you away

they would come back here to our house and would set fire to it, the

way they did at Mezza Villa in an isolated house where they found some

prisoners. And now it is late and you are tired.”

Cietta had entrusted several blankets to Rino who was to guide us to

the little hut where we were to spend the night. I still wished to ask

many questions and to continue talking with them and express all my

appreciation for what they were doing for us, but perhaps they would

not have understood me, for I realized that my way of speaking was not

always the best way in which to make my thoughts understood to

peasants. I feared that they might perhaps consider as haughtiness that

which was merely reserve, and I experienced a vague feeling of being an

outsider, of not being one of them.

We stumbled on the little hut almost before seeing it, for it was so

well hidden and covered by the thick vegetation. We entered the lower

part which in the past must have been used as a stable; the upper part

had evidently served as a hay-loft. The beams yet stood which formerly

supported the hay and a bit of forage must have been left in the place

because in one part the beams were still covered. Rino climbed up a

little straight wooden ladder and where we thought there lay but hay

there were instead several boards laid across the beams so as to form a

little platform. We threw some hay on it and made ready to lie down.

Rino, before leaving us, advised us to pull up the ladder and throw it

across the beams, so that if someone were to enter beneath, he would

never suspect we could have climbed to the little platform and

therefore would not molest us. Our little lair was not far from a

window and in case of alarm we could always escape by it and take to

the open country. Soon fatigue overcame us and the bed, though in truth

it was not very soft, seemed to us like a comfortable couch of feathers.