波波小说

第17部分（第2页）

〃We　dont　see　many。〃

〃No。　But　those　Meyers　and　the　man　from　the　bank　with　his　wife　and　daughters……〃

〃He　cashes　my　sight　drafts；〃　I　said。

〃Yes　but　some　one　else　would　if　he　didnt。　Those　last　four　boys　were　awful。〃

〃We　can　stay　out　here　and　watch　the　race　from　the　fence。〃

〃That　will　be　lovely。　And；　darling；　lets　back　a　horse　weve　never　heard　of　and　that　Mr。　Meyers　wont　be　backing。〃

〃All　right。〃

We　backed　a　horse　named　Light　For　Me　that　finished　fourth　in　a　field　of　five。　We　leaned　on　the　fence　and　watched　the　horses　go　by；　their　hoofs　thudding　as　they　went　past；　and　saw　the　mountains　off　in　the　distance　and　Milan　beyond　the　trees　and　the　fields。

〃I　feel　so　much　cleaner；〃　Catherine　said。　The　horses　were　ing　back；　through　the　gate；　wet　and　sweating；　the　jockeys　quieting　them　and　riding　up　to　dismount　under　the　trees。

〃Wouldnt　you　like　a　drink？　We　could　have　one　out　here　and　see　the　horses。〃

〃Ill　get　them；〃　I　said。

〃The　boy　will　bring　them；〃　Catherine　said。　She　put　her　hand　up　and　the　boy　came　out　from　the　Pagoda　bar　beside　the　stables。　We　sat　down　at　a　round　iron　table。

〃Dont　you　like　it　better　when　were　alone？〃

〃Yes；〃　I　said。

〃I　felt　very　lonely　when　they　were　all　there。〃

〃Its　grand　here；〃　I　said。

〃Yes。　Its　really　a　pretty　course。〃

〃Its　nice。〃

〃Dont　let　me　spoil　your　fun；　darling。　Ill　go　back　whenever　you　want。〃

〃No；〃　I　said。　〃Well　stay　here　and　have　our　drink。　Then　well　go　down　and　stand　at　the　water　jump　for　the　steeplechase。〃

〃Youre　awfully　good　to　me；〃　she　said。

After　we　had　been　alone　awhile　we　were　glad　to　see　the　others　again。　We　had　a　good　time。

21

In　September　the　first　cool　nights　came；　then　the　days　were　cool　and　the　leaves　on　the　trees　in　the　park　began　to　turn　color　and　we　knew　the　summer　was　gone。　The　fighting　at　the　front　went　very　badly　and　they　could　not　take　San　Gabriele。　The　fighting　on　the　Bainsizza　plateau　was　over　and　by　the　middle　of　the　month　the　fighting　for　San　Gabriele　was　about　over　too。　They　could　not　take　it。　Ettore　was　gone　back　to　the　front。　The　horses　were　gone　to　Rome　and　there　was　no　more　racing。　Crowell　had　gone　to　Rome　too；　to　be　sent　back　to　America。　There　were　riots　twice　in　the　town　against　the　war　and　bad　rioting　in　Turin。　A　British　major　at　the　club　told　me　the　Italians　had　lost　one　hundred　and　fifty　thousand　men　on　the　Bainsizza　plateau　and　on　San　Gabriele。　He　said　they　had　lost　forty　thousand　on　the　Carso　besides。　We　had　a　drink　and　he　talked。　He　said　the　fighting　was　over　for　the　year　down　here　and　that　the　Italians　had　bitten　off　more　than　they　could　chew。　He　said　the　offensive　in　Flanders　was　going　to　the　bad。　If　they　killed　men　as　they　did　this　fall　the　Allies　would　be　cooked　in　another　year。　He　said　we　were　all　cooked　but　we　were　all　right　as　long　as　we　did　not　know　it。　We　were　all　cooked。　The　thing　was　not　to　recognize　it。　The　last　country　to　realize　they　were　cooked　would　win　the　war。　We　had　another　drink。　Was　I　on　somebodys　staff？　No。　He　was。　It　was　all　balls。　We　were　alone　in　the　club　sitting　back　in　one　of　the　big　leather　sofas。　His　boots　were　smoothly　polished　dull　leather。　They　were　beautiful　boots。　He　said　it　was　all　balls。　They　thought　only　in　divisions　and　man…power。　They　all　squabbled　about　divisions　and　only　killed　them　when　they　got　them。　They　were　all　cooked。　The　Germans　won　the　victories。　By　God　they　were　soldiers。　The　old　Hun　was　a　soldier。　But　they　were　cooked　too。　We　were　all　cooked。　I　asked　about　Russia。　He　said　they　were　cooked　already。　Id　soon　see　they　were　cooked。　Then　the　Austrians　were　cooked　too。　If　they　got　some　Hun　divisions　they　could　do　it。　Did　he　think　they　would　attack　this　fall？　Of　course　they　would。　The　Italians　were　cooked。　Everybody　knew　they　were　cooked。　The　old　Hun　would　e　down　through　the　Trentino　and　cut　the　railway　at　Vicenza　and　then　where　would　the　Italians　be？　They　tried　that　in　sixteen；　I　said。　Not　with　Germans。　Yes；　I　said。　But　they　probably　wouldnt　do　that；　he　said。　It　was　too　simple。　Theyd　try　something　plicated　and　get　royally　cooked。　I　had　to　go；　I　said。　I　had　to　get　back　to　the　hospital。　〃Good…by；〃　he　said。　Then　cheerily；　〃Every　sort　of　luck！〃　There　was　a　great　contrast　between　his　world　pessimism　and　personal　cheeriness。

I　stopped　at　a　barber　shop　and　was　shaved　and　went　home　to　the　hospital。　My　leg　was　as　well　as　it　would　get　for　a　long　time。　I　had　been　up　for　examination　three　days　before。　There　were　still　some　treatments　to　take　before　my　course　at　the　Ospedale。

Maggiore　was　finished　and　I　walked　along　the　side　street　practising　not　limping。　An　old　man　was　cutting　silhouettes　under　an　arcade。　I　stopped　to　watch　him。　Two　girls　were　posing　and　he　cut　their　silhouettes　together；　snipping　very　fast　and　looking　at　them；　his　head　on　one　side。　The　girls　were　giggling。　He　showed　me　the　silhouettes　before　he　pasted　them　on　white　paper　and　handed　them　to　the　girls。

〃Theyre　beautiful；〃　he　said。　〃How　about　you；　Tenente？〃

The　girls　went　away　looking　at　their　silhouettes　and　laughing。　They　were　nice…looking　girls。　One　of　them　worked　in　the　wine　shop　across　from　the　hospital。

〃All　right；〃　I　said。

〃Take　your　cap　off。〃

〃No。　With　it　on。〃

〃It　will　not　be　so　beautiful；〃　the　old　man　said。　〃But；〃　he　brightened；　〃it　will　be　more　military。〃

He　snipped　away　at　the　black　paper；　then　separated　the　two　thicknesses　and　pasted　the　profiles　on　a　card　and　handed　them　to　me。

〃How　much？〃

〃Thats　all　right。〃　He　waved　his　hand。　〃I　just　made　them　for　you。〃

〃Please。〃　I　brought　out　some　coppers。　〃For　pleasure。〃

〃No。　I　did　them　for　a　pleasure。　Give　them　to　your　girl。〃

〃Many　thanks　until　we　meet。〃

〃Until　I　see　thee。〃

I　went　on　to　the　hospital。　There　were　some　letters；　an　official　one；　and　some　others。　I　was　to　have　three　weeks　convalescent　leave　and　then　return　to　the　front。　I　read　it　over　carefully。　Well；　that　was　that。　The　convalescent　leave　started　October　fourth　when　my　course　was　finished。　Three　weeks　was　twenty…one　days。　That　made　October　twenty…fifth。　I　told　them　I　would　not　be　in　and　went　to　the　restaurant　a　little　way　up　the　street　from　the　hospital　for　supper　and　read　my　letters　and　the　Corriere　Della　Sera　at　the　table。　There　was　a　letter　from　my　grandfather；　containing　family　news；　patriotic　encouragement；　a　draft　for　two　hundred　dollars；　and　a　few　clippings；　a　dull　letter　from　the　priest　at　our　mess；　a　letter　from　a　man　I　knew　who　was　flying　with　the　French　and　had　gotten　in　with　a　wild　gang　and　was　telling　about　it；　and　a　note　from　Rinaldi　asking　me　how　long　I　was　going　to　skulk　in　Milano　and　what　was　all　the　news？　He　wanted　me　to　bring　him　phonograph　records　and　enclosed　a　list。　I　drank　a　small　bottle　of　chianti　with　the　meal；　had　a　coffee　afterward　with　a　glass　of　cognac；　finished　the　paper；　put　my　letters　in　my　pocket；　left　the　paper　on　the　table　with　the　tip　and　went　out。　In　my　room　at　the　hospital　I　undressed；　put　on　pajamas　and　a　dressing…gown；　pulled　down　the　curtains　on　the　door　that　opened　onto　the　balcony　and　sitting　up

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