“Do you know, dear, that it will soon break out?”
“What will break out, darling?”
“The war with Sardinia.”
I was terrified. “My God! that would be terrible! And will you have to go?”
“I hope so.”
“How can you say such a thing? Hope to leave your wife and child!”
“One might reconcile oneself to it; but to hope—which means wish—that such a bitter duty should arise!”
“Bitter! A rattling jolly war like that must be something glorious! You are a soldier’s wife; don’t forget that.”
I fell on his neck. “O my dear husband, be content. I also can be brave! How often have I sympathised with the heroes and heroines of history! What an elevating feeling it must be to go into battle! If I only might fight, fall, or conquer at your side!”