An Italian lady, also living here, helped him to carry out his resolve, and for fifteen months he never once moved outside the little room he slept in.
His friend would bring him by stealth food and drink once a week, and so cleverly did she manage it, that no one in the house even knew he was still there. Of course it would have meant death for her if she had been caught helping him to evade fighting in the Austrian Army.
His feelings, he told us, were indescribable when he learned that at last the Italians were approaching and his deliverance was at hand.
No wonder the poor fellow wanted to have a talk with someone; he had not spoken to a living soul all those long months when Gorizia was being bombarded daily.
He offered to act as our guide and show us round, and we gladly accepted, as it was a chance to see something of the city before its aspect was changed by the Italian occupation.
The Corso and the adjoining streets were still almost deserted, but there were indications that this was not going to last long, and that more troops would shortly be arriving.
We learned that the regiments that had first entered the city had scarcely remained an hour. No sooner did they arrive than they were off again, as it was hoped to cut off the retreat of the flying Austrians. Only a rearguard had been left to await the arrival of reinforcements to take possession of the city itself.
An order had been immediately issued that the inhabitants were to remain indoors, the severest penalty being threatened for any breach of this mandate.
It was somewhat surprising, considering how deserted the streets appeared, to learn that there were several thousand inhabitants still there.
We had thought we had the streets quite to ourselves as we strolled along in the middle of the roadway, our footsteps awakening the echoes; so it came as a nasty shock to suddenly realise that all the time we were thinking this we were being glared at from the little lattices in the shuttered windows above us on either side.