I tried to tell him about it: “But no, dear Fiam. This time it is really a thunderbolt that carries the message.”
“Truly!” he exclaimed sceptically. “And where is the lightning, where is the thunder? I should think that you would admit that I, a Haji, understand such things a little better than you.”
The telegrams that he dictated to me and that I had to alter in private, usually began this way: “Brother of the wire, go and say to our friends in Europe and America that to-day after four hours of big and little thunder, etc.”
Seeing him so infatuated with fighting, I said to him once:
“It appears to me, Fiam——”
“Miferino!”
“That you love war!”
“Not at all. Do you think any one could love slaughter?”
“But you think of nothing else!”
“That is true. This is a question of my country, so I would like to be a soldier and fight with all my strength. I swear to you I wouldn’t mind dying. Just think that the future of the country for centuries and centuries, its prosperity and greatness, depend upon our victory. Hurrah for the war!”