A Modern Legionary

by John Patrick Le Poer

Thereupon, seeing that the poor girl was in great distress, I flung away my cigarette, and taking hers from between her fingers flung it away too. Then I kissed her, and keeping her very closely in my arms, said:

"Tell me everything; but I must tell you one thing first: I am quite sure that, no matter what troubles we may have endured or may have to endure, neither will ever grieve the other by want of love or want of trust."

She sobbed for a moment quietly on my breast, and then began:

"It is all because of that adjutant—that devil who will not allow anyone to be happy. He has always, since he came to the cantonment, desired to take me for himself, and whenever he came with his unwished-for proposals I insulted him and drove him away. Then he threatened that he would take vengeance on you, and I warned you to be on your guard. In spite of all he injured you and nearly broke my heart, but I constantly hoped that he might leave the battalion with the next draft. The draft has gone and he remains; there will be no new draft for months, and what hope is left now? When he stopped me on the parade yesterday it was to renew his unwelcome proposals, but this time he asked me to be his wife. I was angry, and told him that, were he even President of the Republic, I would neither let him kiss me as lover nor wed me as husband, and that, no matter what rank he might win, he would always remain the same—a tyrant to those beneath him, and a tyrant, I believed, was only slightly better than a slave. Then he swore with vehemence that he would have you shot before a month was over, and that is why I tell you." At this point she wept, and could not be comforted for a long time. When she became somewhat calm, I told her that now we knew the adjutant's intentions we could do at least something to prevent their realisation, and that, in any case, if the affair should come to the worst it would be easy enough to have a little satisfaction before being punished. This did not seem very comforting, but it was the best I could say. My mind was at the time even more full of hate of the adjutant than love of Giulia, and I think she must have noticed this, for she tried to turn my thoughts in a pleasanter direction. Almost in a moment she, who had but a moment before been hopeless and comfortless, dried her tears, smiled bravely into my eyes, and told me I thought more of my anger than of her love. I put aside at once all emotions save those of tenderness and affection, I petted and caressed her, I told her over and over again what women never tire of hearing: Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime. If you can say "I love you" to a woman, and she feels that you say it with truth, you have made the most eloquent speech in the world to her ears—that is, be it well understood, if she is inclined to say the same words to you. If she cannot respond, why! say good-bye and forget her. He is only a fool who cannot, even though it hurts, give up a love that meets with no response.

But there was no danger of lack of response on Giulia's part. In a pretty mixture of Italian, French, and English that we had taught each other she gave me assurances that were not the less valued because they were repetitions of ones that I had received from her many times before, and that fell upon my ears all the more pleasantly that I well knew them to be absolutely true. There can be no mistaking the love or the hate of an Italian girl; the Southern warmth shows itself in both. As I had experience of one, so the adjutant had sorely felt the other.

While we were thus creating happiness for each other, a harsh voice fell upon our ears. It was the adjutant's. I stood up and faced round to meet him, all thoughts of love had now disappeared, only hatred of the tyrant filled my heart. I remembered the many insults, the unfair surprises, the more than devilish ingenuity with which he had hounded me down. I thought of my former rank and contrasted it in my mind with my then lowly condition; I remembered my lost chevrons, my lost pay, my lost position, my lost chance of promotion, my lost friends, for what sergeant could associate with the reduced sub-officer in the ranks! I thought of Giulia's sorrows, her wakeful nights when she knew that I was tossing uneasily on a plank bed, her anxiety as the hour approached for my trial, her fear of some terrible result, the insulting proposals that she was compelled to hear and of which she dared not speak, and as all these thoughts surged through my brain I saw no adjutant, no superior officer of mine, but a man-wolf, a demon incarnate hot from hell. Yet I was outwardly calm; I said no word, nor for some moments did he speak, but I felt that the crisis had come at last. I was glad that we three were quite alone; the thought flashed upon my mind that it was Sunday, and that day I wore my bayonet.

At last he spoke: "Will mademoiselle kindly go away and permit me to speak alone to the soldier?"

"No," Giulia replied; "I will stay. Why have you come here?"

"I came," said the adjutant, speaking very slowly and impressively, all the while looking hard at me, "to make a proposition to this man."

"I can guess your proposition," I replied, stopping Giulia with a gesture, "and I give you the same answer as Mademoiselle Julie has already given. She does not give me up; I do not give up her. Did you think," and I spoke with deliberation equal to his, "that I would allow my darling to purchase an easy life and also promotion for me by giving you even one kiss, even one glance of favour! No," I went on, "Giulia's kisses and caresses and words of love are for me and for me alone; get some woman of the camp—she will be good enough for you."