inforcement arrived there was little for it to
do but join in the rejoicing and salute the brave cannoneer, who proved
to be no saint, but a stranger come to watch the battle, and thus
opportunely lend his aid.

Enthusiastic were the demonstrations; vivas, blessings, tears,
handkissing, and invocation of all the saints in the calendar, till it
was discovered that the unknown gentleman had a bullet in his breast
and was in need of instant help. Whereupon the women, clustering about
him like bees, bore him away to the wounded ward, where the inmates rose
up in their beds to welcome him, and the clamorous crowd were with
difficulty persuaded to relinquish him to the priest, the surgeon, and
the rest he needed. Nor was this all; the crowning glory of the event to
the villagers was the coming of the Chief at nightfall, and the scene
about the stranger's bed. Here the narrator glowed with pride, the women
in the group began to sob, and the men took off their caps, with black
eyes glittering through their tears.

"Excellenza, he who had fought for us like a tempest, an angel of doom,
lay there beside my cousin Beppo, who was past help and is now in holy
Paradise--Speranza was washing the smoke and powder from him, the wound
was easy--death of my soul! may he who gave it die unconfessed! See you,
I am there, I watch him, the friend of Excellenza, the great still man
who smiled but said no word to us. Then comes the Chief,--silenzio, till
I finish!--he comes, they have told him, he stays at the bed, he looks
down, the fine eye shines, he takes the hand, he says low--'I thank
you,'--he lays his cloak,--the gray cloak we know and love so well--over
the wounded breast, and so goes on. We cry out, but what does the
friend? Behold! he lifts himself, he lays the cloak upon my Beppo, he
says in that so broken way of his--'Comrade, the honor is for you who
gave your life for him, I give but a single hour.' Beppo saw, heard,
comprehended; thanked him with a glance, and rose up to die crying,
'Viva Italia! Viva Garibaldi!'"

[Illustration]

The cry was caught up by all the listeners in a whirlwind of
enthusiastic loyalty, and the stranger joined in it, thrilled with an
equal love and honor for the Patriot Soldier, whose name upon Italian
lips means liberty.

"Where is he now, this friend of mine, so nearly lost, so happily
found?"

A dozen hands pointed to the convent, a dozen brown faces lighted up,
and a dozen eager voices poure