“That’s true,” answers Giovannino who for a moment seemed to have regained his wits at which I again had hope for him. “I was born at San Martino di Colle but I work at Vittorio and I had them draw up my papers in the place where I am stopping at present.”
“Where have you been?”
“We have been to see some friends here at Tarzo.”
“And how is it you are not working to-day?”
“Because I have been sick and for several days I have not been to work.”
The marshal mumbled in German, “Nice face for a sick man, with such high color. This young man must be one of those notorious ones.”
“What work do you do, if I am not indiscreet, and if you will permit me to question you?” He resumed his nervous whacking of the stick on the ground. “Come, now, answer. If you won’t answer when we treat you kindly there are other treatments which will make you talk.”
“I am a carpenter.”
“And where are you employed at present?”
“I am working at the threshing-machine plant near Vittorio.”