This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
By George Meredith
The lieutenant read these lines, as he clattered through the quietstreets toward the Porta Tosa:
'DEAR FRIEND,—I am glad that you remind me of our old affection, for itassures me that yours is not dead. I cannot consent to see you yet. Iwould rather that we should not meet.
'I thought I would sign my name here, and say, "God bless you, Wilfrid;go!"
'Oh! why have you done this thing! I must write on. It seems like mypast life laughing at me, that my old friend should have come here inItaly, to wear the detestable uniform. How can we be friends when wemust act as enemies? We shall soon be in arms, one against the other.I pity you, for you have chosen a falling side; and when you are beatenback, you can have no pride in your country, as we Italians have; nodelight, no love. They will call you a mercenary soldier. I rememberthat I used to have the fear of your joining our enemies, when we werein England, but it seemed too much for my reason.
'You are with a band of butchers. If I could see you and tell you thestory of Giacomo Piaveni, and some other things, I believe you wouldbreak your sword instantly.
'There is time. Come to Milan on the fifteenth. You will see me then.I appear at La Scala. Promise me, if you hear me, that you will doexactly what I make you feel it right to do. Ah, you will not, thoughthousands will! But step aside to me, when the curtain falls, andremain—oh, dear friend! I write in honour to you; we have sworn to freethe city and the country—remain among us: break your sword, tear offyour uniform; we are so strong that we are irresistible. I know what ahero you can be on the field: then, why not in the true cause? I do notunderstand that you should waste your bravery under that ugly flag,bloody and past forgiveness.
'I shall be glad to have news of you all, and of England. The bearer ofthis is a trusty messenger, and will continue to call at the hotel. A.is offended that I do not allow my messenger to give my address; but Imust not only be hidden, I must have peace, and forget you all until Ihave done my task. Addio. We have both changed names. I am the same.Can I think that you are? Addio, dear friend.
Lieutenant Pierson read again and again the letter of her whom he hadloved in England, to get new lights from it, as lovers do when they havelost the power to take single impressions. He was the bearer of a verbaldespatch from the commandant in Milan to the Marshal in Verona. At thatperiod great favour was shown to Englishmen in the Austrian service, andthe lieutenant's uncle being a General of distinction, he had a sort ofsemi-attachment to the Marshal's staff, and was hurried to and fro, forthe purpose of keeping him out of duelling scrapes, as many of hisfriendlier comrades surmised. The right to the distinction of exercisingstaff-duties is, of course, only to be gained by stout competitorship inthe Austrian service; but favour may do something for a young man even inthat rigorous school of Arms. He had to turn to Brescia on his way, andcalculated that if luck should put good horses under him, he would enterVerona gates about sunset. Meantime; there was Vittori