Amongst the surviving workmen who were defending the large front entrance to the manufactory was an old gray-headed man, who listened intently to the above conversation of the two chiefs. When Muzio uttered the last words, he exclaimed, "Coraggio, signors! If you wish to retire from this place, and to save the women, I know of a passage that will lead us out of danger."
A ray of hope broke upon the minds of the two friends when they heard there was a way of saving their beloved ones, and they immediately proceeded to avail themselves of it, for there was no time to be lost, as the enemy was preparing for a fresh attack.
Muzio approached Julia and Clelia, who were not far off, and obtained a promise, on the condition that he and Attilio would soon follow them, that they would take refuge under the escort of old Dentato and Jack in the subterranean passage. The other women would follow after them, and lastly our friends with all the remaining defenders of the factory.
And the wounded? Ah! if there be a circumstance that is harrowing and terrible in those butcheries of men called "battles," it is certainly that of abandoning one's own wounded to the enemy!
Povyri! In one moment the faces of your friends—of your brothers, who bewailed your hurt, who tended you with such gentleness, will disappear, to be succeeded by the revolting, horrible, and triumphant faces of the mercenaries. At the best they will be brutal; at the worst, they, infringing every right of war and of people, will steep their base bayonets in your precious blood! Cowards! who fled before you, and to whom you so often generously conceded their lives.
Supported by the 20,000 soldiers of the 2d of December, they have regained once more their spirits, and have forgotten that they owe their ignoble existences to you.
In St. Antonio (America), Italians fought against the soldiers of despotism, and many, very many were wounded. There, carried on their brothers' backs, or transported on horses, the wounded were removed. Not one was left* alive to be at the mercy of Rosa's cannibals.
And are the hirelings of the priests less cruel? At the station at Monte Rotondo, after the glorious assault of the 25th of October, three wounded men were lying awaiting the convoy that was to convey them to Terni, when the Pope's soldiers arrived. Worthy followers of the Inquisitors, they amused themselves with murdering our unhappy companions by stabbing them with their bayonets, and giving them blows with the butt-end of their guns.**
Oh, Italians, leave not in your enemy's power your wounded! It is too heart-rending a spectacle. If they be not murdered, they will remain at least to be mocked and jested at by those who are accustomed to outrage Italy.
Attilio and Muzio, though tired and wounded themselves, would not abandon their helpless comrades to the insults and the steel of the priests' soldiers.