现在到了秋天，叶落树空，道路泥泞。我从乌迪内乘军用卡车上哥里察。我们沿途遇到旁的军用卡车，我望望乡间景色。桑树已秃，田野一片褐色。路边一排排光秃的树木，路上布满着湿的落叶，有人在修路，正从路边树木间堆积的碎石堆里，搬石头来填补车辙。我们看见哥里察城罩着雾，那雾把高山峻岭也遮断了。我们渡河的时候，我发觉河水在高涨。这是因为高山间下雨的缘故。我们进了城，经过一些工厂，接着便是房屋和别墅，我看到又有许多房屋中了炮弹。我们在一条狭窄的街上驶过一部英国红十字会救护车。那司机戴着帽子，脸孔瘦削，晒得黑黑的。我不认得他。我在大广场上镇长的屋前下了卡车，司机把背包递给我，我背在身上，再加上两只野战背包，就朝我们的别墅走去。没有回到家的感觉。我在潮湿的沙砾车路上走，从树木缝隙间望望别墅。所有的窗子都关闭着，只有大门开着。我走进去，发现少校坐在桌子边，房中孑然无物，墙上挂着地图和打字机打的布告。
“哈罗，”他说。“你好？”他样子苍老了一点，干瘪了一点。“我很好，”我说。“这里情况怎么样？”
“没事了，”他说。“你把行李放下来，坐一坐。”我把背包和两只野战包搁在地板上，我的帽子摆在背包上。我从墙边拉过另外一张椅子来，在他桌边坐下。
“今年夏天很不好，”少校说。“你现在身体健壮了吧？”
“健壮了。”
“你可曾受勋了？”
“受了。我稳稳妥妥收到了。非常感谢你。”
“我们来看一看。”
我拉开披肩，让他看那两条勋表。“你还收到用匣子装的勋章吗？”
“没有。单收到了证书。”
“匣子以后会来的。得费一点时间。”
“关于我的工作，你有什么吩咐？”
“车子都开走了。有六部在北方的卡波雷多。你熟悉卡波雷多吧？”
“熟悉，”我说。我记得那是一座白色的小城镇，在一个山谷里，城里有一座钟楼。倒是个干干净净的小城，广场上有个出色的喷水池。“他们以那地方做根据地。现在有好多病员。战斗倒是结束了。”“其余的车子在哪儿？”
“山里边有两部，四部还在培恩西柴高原。其余两个救护车队在卡索高原，跟第三军在一起。”
“你要我做什么呢？”
“要是你愿意的话，你可以上培恩西柴去接管那四部救护车。吉诺在那儿好久了。你没上那儿去过吧？”
“没有。”
“夏天的战斗很不好。我们损失了三部车子。”
“我听说过了。”
“对啦，雷那蒂给你写过信。”
“雷那蒂在哪儿？”
“他在这儿医院里。他忙了整个夏天和秋天。”
“我相信是忙的。”
“夏天的情况很不好，”少校说。“糟得你不会相信。我常常在想，你那次中弹还算是你运气好。”
“我知道我是幸运的。”
“明年情况还要糟，”少校说。“也许他们现在就要进攻。他们说是要进攻，我倒不相信。现在季节已经太迟了。你来时看见河水吗？”“看见啦。已经涨高了。”
“现在雨季一开始，我不相信他们还会进攻。这儿不久就要下雨了。贵国同胞怎么样？除了你以外，还有旁的美国人要来吗？”
“他们正在训练一支一千万的大军。”
“我希望他们调派一部分到这边来。但是法国人一定会把他们抢个光的。我们一个人都分不到。好吧。你今天夜里在这儿睡，明天开那部小汽车出去，调吉诺回来。我打发个认得路的人陪你一起去。吉诺会把一切告诉你的。他们近来还有一点炮轰，不过战斗已经过去了。你看见培恩西柴高原一定会喜欢的。”
“难得有这机会。少校长官，能够回来再和你在一起，我心里高兴。”他笑了一笑。“亏你说得这么好。我对于这场战争已经很厌倦了。要是我离开这里的话，我是不想回来的。”
“糟到这个地步吗？”
“是这么糟。实在还要更糟。你去洗一洗，找你的朋友雷那蒂去吧。”我走出来，把背包背上楼。雷那蒂不在房间里，他的东西可都在。我便在床上坐下，解开绑腿，脱掉右脚的鞋子。随后我躺倒在床上，我身子疲乏，右脚又疼。不过这样子只脱一只鞋子躺在床上，未免滑稽，于是我坐起来，解开另一只鞋子的鞋带，让鞋子掉在地上，身子又往毯子上一倒。因为关着窗子，房里闷不透气，但是我太疲乏了，不愿意再起来开窗。我看见我的东西堆在一个角落里。外面天渐渐黑了。我躺在床上想凯瑟琳，等着雷那蒂回来。我本想，除了夜里临睡以前，再也不去想她。无奈我现在很累，没事可做，只好躺着想想她。我还在想她的时候，雷那蒂进来了。他还是老样子。也许稍为瘦一点。
“啊，乖乖，”他说。我在床上坐起身。他跑过来，坐下，伸出一臂抱住我。“好乖乖。”他用力拍拍我的背，我抱住他的双臂。
“老乖乖，”他说。“让我看看你的膝头。”
“那我得脱下裤子。”
“那就脱好了，乖乖。我们这里都是熟人。我想看看他们的治疗功夫。”我站起身，解下裤子，拉开护膝。雷那蒂坐在地板上，把我的膝头轻轻来回弯动。他用手指沿着伤疤摸下去；用他双手的拇指一齐按在膝盖骨上，用其余的手指轻轻地摇摇膝盖。
“你的关节联接只到这个地步吗？”
“是的。”
“这样子就送你回来，真罪过。他们应该等到关节联接完全恢复。”“这比以前好多了。本来硬得像木板一样。”
雷那蒂把它再往下弯。我注视着他的双手。他有一双外科医师的好手。
我看他的头顶，头发光亮，头路挑得分明。他把膝头弯得太下了。“嗳哟！”
我说。“你应当多做几次机械治疗，”雷那蒂说。
“比以前是好一点。”
“这我看得出，乖乖。这方面我比你知道得多。”他站起身，坐在床沿上。“膝盖本身的手术很不错。”膝盖他已经看好了。“把一切都告诉我。”
“没有什么可说的，”我说。“我过得安安静静。”
“你这样子可像是个结了婚的人，”他说。“你怎么啦？”“没什么，”
我说。“你怎么啦？”
“这战争可把我折磨死了，”雷那蒂说，“我给它弄得郁郁不乐。”他双手抱着他的膝盖。
“哦，”我说。
“怎么啦？难道我连人的冲动都不应当有吗？”
“不应当有。我看得出你日子过得很好。告诉我。”
“整个夏季和秋季我都在动手术。我时时都在工作。人家的事我都拿来做。他们把难的手术都留给我。天主啊，乖乖，我变成一个很讨人喜爱的外科医生了。”
“这才像话啦。”
“我从来不思想。天主啊，我不思想；我只是开刀。”
“这才对啦。”
“但是现在，乖乖，工作都完了。我现在不开刀了，就闷得慌。这战争太可怕了，乖乖。你相信我，我这是真话。现在你来了，叫我高兴了。唱片带来了没有？”
“带来了。”
唱片用纸包着，装在我背包中一只纸板匣里。我太累了，懒得去拿。“难道你自己不好受吗，乖乖？”
“我感觉糟透了。”
“这战争太可怕了，”雷那蒂说。“来吧。我们俩都来喝个醉，鼓起兴致来。然后找什么来解解闷，人就会好过了。”
“我害过黄疸，”我说。“不可以喝醉。”
“哦，乖乖，你回来竟然变成这样一个人。你一回来就一本正经，还有肝病。我告诉你吧，这战争是件坏东西。我们究竟为什么要战争呢？”“我们喝它一杯吧。我不想喝醉，不过我们可以来一杯。”雷那蒂走到房间的另一头的洗脸架前，拿回来两只玻璃杯和一瓶科涅克白兰地。
“是奥国货，”他说。“七星白兰地。他们在圣迦伯烈山缴获的就是这些酒。”
“你也上那边去过吗？”
“没有。我什么地方都没有去。我一直在这儿动手术。你瞧，乖乖，这就是你从前的漱口杯。我一直保存了下来，使我想起你。”“恐怕还是使你不忘记刷牙的吧。”
“不，我有自己的漱口杯。我保存这杯子，为的是提醒我你怎样在早晨想用牙刷刷掉‘玫瑰别墅’的气味，一面咒骂，一面吞服阿司匹灵，诅咒那些妓女。我每次看到那只杯子，便想起你怎样用牙刷来刷清你的良心。”他走到床边来。“亲我一次，告诉我你并不是真的一本正经。”“我从来不亲你。你是头人猿。”
“我知道，你是个又好又规矩的盎格鲁-撒克逊小伙子。我知道。你是个悔过的小伙子。我等着看你用牙刷把妓女刷掉吧。”
“在杯子里倒点科涅克白兰地。”
我们碰杯喝酒。雷那蒂对我大笑起来。
“我要把你灌醉，挖出你的肝，换上一只意大利人的好肝，叫你再像个男子汉。”
我拿着杯子再要一些白兰地。外边现在天黑了。我手里拿着一杯白兰地，走过去打开窗子。雨已经停了。外边寒冷一点，树木间有雾。“别把白兰地倒到窗外去，” 雷那蒂说。“你喝不了就倒给我吧。”“见你的鬼，”我说。又看到雷那蒂，我心中很高兴。他两年来时常笑我逗我，我也无所谓。我们彼此很了解。
“你结了婚吧？”他坐在床上问。我正靠着窗边的墙壁站着。“还没有。”
“你闹恋爱吧？”
“是的。”
“就是那个英国姑娘？”
“是的。”
“可怜的乖乖。她待你好吗？”
“当然好。”
“我的意思是说，她的实际功夫怎么样？”
“闭嘴。”
“我还是要说。你会明白，我是个非常慎重婉转的人。她可——？”
“雷宁，”我说。“请你闭住嘴。要是你想做我朋友的话，就闭嘴吧。”“我倒不想做你的朋友，乖乖。我正是你的朋友啊。”
“那么就闭嘴吧。”
“好的。”
我走到床边去，在他身边坐下。他手里拿着杯子，眼睛望着地板。“你明白吗，雷宁？”
“哦，明白了。我一辈子碰到许多神圣禁忌的事。你身上倒是很少有的。现在大概连你也有神圣不可侵犯的事了。”他望着地板。“你自己一个禁忌都没有吗？”
“没有。”
“一个都没有？”
“没有。”
“我可以随便乱说你母亲或你的姐妹吗？”
“还可以乱说你那位‘姐妹’①啊，”雷那蒂抢着说。我们两人都笑起来。
“还是那老超人的本色，”我说。
“或许是我妒忌吧，”他说。
“不，你不会的。”
“我不是那个意思。我是讲别的。你有没有结了婚的朋友？”“有，”我说。
“我可没有，”雷那蒂说。“除非是人家夫妇彼此不相爱的。”“为什么？”
“他们不喜欢我。”
“为什么？”
① 关于瞎想这一段，详见本书第7 章。加富尔是米兰最高贵的旅馆之一，不招待普通尉级军官。
“我是那条蛇。我是那条理智的蛇。”
“你搞错了。苹果才是理智。①”“不，是那条蛇。”他愉快一点了。
“你的思想不要太深刻，人就好一点，”我说。
“我真爱你，乖乖，”他说。“等我当了意大利的伟大思想家，你再来拆穿我吧。但是我知道许多事情，我还说不出来。我知道得比你多。”
“对。你知道得多。”
“但是你还是可以过比较好的日子的。你就是后悔，也还可以过好一点的日子。”
“不见得吧。”
“哦，是这样的。这是真话。我已经只在工作时才感到快乐。”他又瞅着地板。
“你再过一阵子就不这样想了。”
“不会的。工作以外我只喜欢两件事：一件事对我的工作有妨碍，另一件一做就完，或是半小时，或是一刻钟。有时时间还要少一点。”
“有时还要少得多吧。”
“或许我进步了，乖乖。你哪里知道。但是我现在只有这两件事和我的工作。”
“你还会有别的兴趣的。”
“不。我们从来不会有任何别的。我们生下来有什么就是什么，从来学不会别的。我们从来不吸收任何新的东西。我们一生下来就是这个样子。你不是拉丁人，真应当高兴哩。”
“哪里有什么拉丁人。那只是‘拉丁’式的思想。你对于你的缺点太得意扬扬了，”我说。雷那蒂抬起头来大笑。
“我们就住口吧，乖乖。想得太多，我累了。”他进房间时就看上去很疲乏了。“快到吃饭的时间了。你回来我心中欢喜。你是我最好的朋友和战友。”
“战友们什么时候吃饭？”我问。
“马上就吃。我们再喝一杯，为了你那只肝。”
“像圣保罗那样。”
“你搞错了。那原是讲酒和胃。因为你胃口的关系，可以稍微用点酒。①”
“不管你瓶子里是水是酒，”我说。“也不管你说喝的目的是为什么。”
“敬你的爱人，”雷那蒂说。他擎起杯子来。
“好。”
“关于她，我决不再说一句脏话。”
“不要过于勉强。”
他把科涅克白兰地喝光。“我是纯洁的，”他说。“我像你一样，乖乖。
我也去找个英国姑娘。事实上你那姑娘，我认识她比你还早，只是对我来说，她长得太高了。长得高大的女郎就做个妹妹，”他引用了一个典故。②
①安德鲁·马韦尔（1621—1678）为英国诗人，上面这两行引自他的脍炙人口的爱情诗《致我的腼腆的情人》。
① 姐妹在这里是双关语，西方习俗称护士为姐妹。
②指亚当和夏娃受蛇（撒旦）的引诱，吃了苹果（分别善恶的果子）而失乐园的故事。详见《圣经·创世记》第3 章。这里的理智或可译为智慧。
“你有颗纯洁可爱的心，”我说。
“可不是吗？所以他们叫我最最纯洁的雷那蒂。”
“最最肮脏的雷那蒂。”
“走吧，乖乖，趁我心思还纯洁的时候，我们就下去吃饭吧。”
我洗了脸，梳了头，同他一起下楼。雷那蒂有点醉了。到我们吃饭的屋子里时，饭还没烧好。
“我去把酒瓶拿来，”雷那蒂说。他上楼去了。我坐在饭桌边，他拿了酒瓶回来，给我们每人倒了半杯科涅克白兰地。
“太多了，”我说，拿起玻璃杯，对着饭桌上的灯照照。
“空肚子不算多。酒是件奇妙的东西。会把你的胃全部烧坏。这对你再有害没有了。”
“对啊。”
“一天天自我毁灭，”雷那蒂说。“酒伤害你的胃，叫你的手颤抖。这对外科医生再好也没有了。”
“你推荐这方子。”
“全心全意。我只用这方子。喝下去，乖乖，等着生病好啦。”
我喝了半杯。我听得见勤务兵在走廊上喊道：“汤！汤好了！”
少校走进来，向我们点点头，坐下。坐在饭桌边，他显得个子很小。
“只有我们这几个人吗？”他问。勤务兵把盛汤的大碗放下，他就舀了一盘子汤。
“人是到齐了，”雷那蒂说。“除非教士也来。他要是知道费德里科在这儿的话，一定会来。”
“他现在在哪儿？”
“在307 阵地，”少校说。他正忙着喝汤。他揩揩嘴，小心地揩揩他那上翘的灰色小胡子。“他大概会来的吧。我打过电话，叫人家传话给他，说你回来了。”
“饭堂可惜不像从前那么热闹了，”我说。
“是的，现在安静了，”少校说。
“我来闹闹吧，”雷那蒂说。
“喝点酒吧，恩里科，”少校说。他给我的杯子倒满了酒。意大利实心面端进来了，大家都忙着吃。大家快吃完面时，教士才来。他还是那老样子，身材瘦小，皮肤黄褐色，看上去很结实。我站起身来，我们握手。他把手搭在我肩膀上。
“我一听说你来了就赶回来，”他说。
“坐下吧，”少校说。“你迟到了。”
“晚安，教士，”雷那蒂说，教士这两字是用英语说的。从前有个专门逗教士的上尉，会讲一点英语，他们就学他的。“晚安，雷那蒂，”教士说。
勤务兵端汤给他，但是他说，就先吃实心面好了。
“你好？”他问我。
“好，”我说。“近来情况怎么样？”
“喝一点酒吧，教士，”雷那蒂说。“为了你的胃口，稍微用一点酒。
这是圣保罗的教导，你知道。”
“是的，我知道，”教士有礼貌地说。雷那蒂倒了一杯酒。
“圣保罗那家伙，”雷那蒂说。“弄出这一切麻烦来的都是他。”教士望望我，笑笑。我看得出这样逗他，现在他也无所谓了。
“圣保罗那家伙，”雷那蒂说。“他本是个一再犯罪的坏蛋，是个迫害教会的人，后来没有劲头了，就说这也不行那也不行。①他搞完了才制定了许多清规戒律，限制我们这些劲头正足的人。这话可不是真的，费德里科？”
少校笑笑。我们正在吃炖肉。
“天黑以后，我照例不谈论圣徒，”我说。吃炖肉的教士抬起头来对我笑笑。
“他也跑到教士那边去了，”雷那蒂说。“从前那些专门逗教士的能手哪儿去了？卡伐堪蒂呢？勃隆恩蒂呢？西撒莱呢？难道全没帮手，非叫我一个人单独来逗他？”
“他是个好教士，”少校说。
“他是个好教士，”雷那蒂说。“但是教士还是教士。我想恢复以前饭堂的热闹。我要费德里科心里高兴。见鬼去吧，教士！”
我注意到少校在盯着他，发觉他已醉了。他的瘦脸很苍白。衬着他那苍白的前额，他的头发显得黑黑的。
“没关系，雷那蒂，”教士说。“没关系。”
“你见鬼去，”雷那蒂说。“这该死的一切都见鬼去。”他往后靠在椅背上。
“他工作过分紧张，人太累了，”少校对我说。他吃完了肉，用一片面包蘸着肉汁吃。
“该死，我才无所谓哪，”雷那蒂对着桌边的众人说。“这一切都见鬼去。”他狠狠地瞪着全桌上的人，眼神呆滞，脸色苍白。
“好的，”我说。”这该死的一切都见鬼去。”
“不，不，”雷那蒂说。“你不行。你不行。我说你不行。你因为又气闷又空虚，才会这样子，没有旁的意思。我告诉你，没有旁的意思。一点都没有。我知道，我一停止工作就会这样子。”
教士摇摇头。勤务兵把盛肉的大盘子端走。
“你为什么吃肉？”雷那蒂转对教士说。“你岂不知道今天是星期五吗？①”
“今天是礼拜四，”教士说。
“你撒谎。今天是星期五。你在吃我们的主的身体。那是天主的肉。我知道。那是战死的奥国鬼子的肉。你在吃的就是这东西。”“白肉①是军官的肉，”我说，凑着把那老笑话讲完。雷那蒂大笑。他倒了一杯酒。
“你们不必认真，”他说。“我只是有点儿疯罢了。”
“你应该休假一下，”教士说。
少校连忙对着教士摇头。雷那蒂瞅着教士。
“照你想，我应该休假一下？”
少校又对教士摇头。雷那蒂眼睁睁地望着教士。
① 保罗是早期基督教最重要的使徒之一，曾到犹太国以外的诸外邦去传教。这里引的话见《圣经·提摩太前书》第5 章第23 节：“因你胃口不清，屡次患病，再不要照常喝水，可以稍微用点酒。”
① 《圣经·创世记》第12 章第10 到20 节写亚伯拉罕因饥荒避难埃及，怕埃及人垂涎他的美貌妻子撒莱，因而杀他，便谎称她是他的妹妹。如果他的确是引用这个典故，那么“高大”或可译为“硕美”。
① 关于保罗皈依基督教的事迹，详见《圣经·使徒行传》第9 章第1 到9 节。
“随你的便，”教士说。“你不喜欢，不休假也行。”
“你见鬼去，”雷那蒂说。“他们想撵走我。每天夜晚他们都想撵走我。
我把他们打退了。我就是得了那个，又算什么。人人都得的。全世界都得了。起初，”他改用演讲者的口气说，“是一颗小小的脓疱。随后我们注意到两个肩膀间发出皮疹。这以后症状都没有了。我们只相信用水银来治疗。”“或者用洒尔佛散①，”少校安静地补上一句。“一种汞制剂，”雷那蒂说。现在他的谈吐趾高气扬。“我还知道一种药，比那个要好上两倍。好教士啊，”他说。“你永远不会染上的。乖乖都会染上。这病是一种工业事故。只是一种工业事故罢了。”
勤务兵把甜点和咖啡端了进来。甜点是一种黑面包布丁，上边浇了一层厚厚的甜酱。油灯在冒烟；黑烟在灯罩内差一点冒到顶。
“拿两支蜡烛来，把灯端走，”少校说。勤务兵点了两支蜡烛放在两个碟子上端进来，把灯拿出去吹灭了。雷那蒂现在安静下来了。看他样子还好。我们谈着话，喝了咖啡后，大家走到门廊上。
“你要跟教士谈话。我得进城去，”雷那蒂说。“晚安，教士。”“晚安，雷那蒂，”教士说。
“回头见，弗雷迪，”雷那蒂说。
“回头见，”我说。“早点回来。”他做了个鬼脸，走出门去了。少校和我们还一起站着。“他很疲乏，工作又过度，”他说。“他自以为也得了梅毒。我不相信，但是可能他果真得了也不一定。他现在自己在治。晚安。你天亮以前就走吧，恩里科？”
“是的。”
“那么再会啦，”他说。“祝你运气好。柏图齐会来喊醒你，陪你一起去的。”
“再会，少校长官。”
“再会。他们说奥军要发动进攻，我可不相信。我希望不至于是事实吧。不管来攻不来攻，不会打这儿攻进来的。吉诺会告诉你一切的。电话现在通了。”
“我会经常打电话来。”
“就请你经常打来吧。晚安。别让雷那蒂喝那么多白兰地。”“我想法子不让他喝那么多。”
“晚安，教士。”
“晚安，少校长官。”
他到他的办公室去了。
① 天主教徒星期五守斋。
Now in the fall the trees were all bare and the roads were muddy. I rode to Gorizia from Udine on a camion. We passed other camions on the road and I looked at the country. The mulberry trees were bare and the fields were brown. There were wet dead leaves on the road from the rows of bare trees and men were working on the road, tamping stone in the ruts from piles of crushed stone along the side of the road between the trees. We saw the town with a mist over it that cut off the mountains. We crossed the river and I saw that it was running high. It had been raining in the mountains. We came into the town past the factories and then the houses and villas and I saw that many more houses had been hit. On a narrow street we passed a British Red Cross ambulance. The driver wore a cap and his face was thin and very tanned. I did not know him. I got down from the camion in the big square in front of the Town Major's house, the driver handed down my rucksack and I put it on and swung on the two musettes and walked to our villa. It did not feel like a homecoming.
I walked down the damp gravel driveway looking at the villa through the trees. The windows were all shut but the door was open. I went in and found the major sitting at a table in the bare room with maps and typed sheets of paper on the wall.
"Hello," he said. "How are you?" He looked older and drier.
"I'm good," I said. "How is everything?"
"It's all over," he said. "Take off your kit and sit down." I put my pack and the two musettes on the floor and my cap on the pack. I brought the other chair over from the wall and sat down by the desk.
"It's been a bad summer," the major said. "Are you strong now?"
"Yes."
"Did you ever get the decorations?"
"Yes. I got them fine. Thank you very much."
"Let's see them."
I opened my cape so he could see the two ribbons.
"Did you get the boxes with the medals?"
"No. Just the papers."
"The boxes will come later. That takes more time."
"What do you want me to do?"
"The cars are all away. There are six up north at Caporetto. You know Caporetto?"
"Yes," I said. I remembered it as a little white town with a campanile in a valley. It was a clean little town and there was a fine fountain in the square.
"They are working from there. There are many sick now. The fighting is over."
"Where are the others?"
"There are two up in the mountains and four still on the Bainsizza. The other two ambulance sections are in the Carso with the third army."
"What do you wish me to do?"
"You can go and take over the four cars on the Bainsizza if you like. Gino has been up there a long time. You haven't seen it up there, have you?"
"No."
"It was very bad. We lost three cars."
"I heard about it."
"Yes, Rinaldi wrote you."
"Where is Rinaldi?"
"He is here at the hospital. He has had a summer and fall of it."
"I believe it."
"It has been bad," the major said. "You couldn't believe how bad it's been. I've often thought you were lucky to be hit when you were."
"I know I was."
"Next year will be worse," the major said. "Perhaps they will attack now. They say they are to attack but I can't believe it. It is too late. You saw the river?"
"Yes. It's high already."
"I don't believe they will attack now that the rains have started. We will have the snow soon. What about your countrymen? Will there be other Americans besides yourself?"
"They are training an army of ten million."
"I hope we get some of them. But the French will hog them all. We'll never get any down here. All right. You stay here to-night and go out to-morrow with the little car and send Gino back. I'll send somebody with you that knows the road. Gino will tell you everything. They are shelling quite a little still but it is all over. You will want to see the Bainsizza."
"I'm glad to see it. I am glad to be back with you again, Signor Maggiore."
He smiled. "You are very good to say so. I am very tired of this war. If I was away I do not believe I would come back."
"Is it so bad?"
"Yes. It is so bad and worse. Go get cleaned up and find your friend Rinaldi."
I went out and carried my bags up the stairs. Rinaldi was not in the room but his things were there and I sat down on the bed and unwrapped my puttees and took the shoe off my right foot. Then I lay back on the bed. I was tired and my right foot hurt. It seemed silly to lie on the bed with one shoe off, so I sat up and unlaced the other shoe and dropped it on the floor, then lay back on the blanket again. The room was stuffy with the window closed but I was too tired to get up and open it. I saw my things were all in one corner of the room. Outside it was getting dark. I lay on the bed and thought about Catherine and waited for Rinaldi. I was going to try not to think about Catherine except at night before I went to sleep. But now I was tired and there was nothing to do, so I lay and thought about her. I was thinking about her when Rinaldi came in. He looked just the same. Perhaps he was a little thinner.
"Well, baby," he said. I sat up on the bed. He came over, sat down and put his arm around me. "Good old baby." He whacked me on the back and I held both his arms.
"Old baby," he said. "Let me see your knee."
"I'll have to take off my pants."
"Take off your pants, baby. We're all friends here. I want to see what kind of a job they did." I stood up, took off the breeches and pulled off the knee-brace. Rinaldi sat on the floor and bent the knee gently back and forth. He ran his finger along the scar; put his thumbs together over the kneecap and rocked the knee gently with his fingers.
"Is that all the articulation you have?"
"Yes."
"It's a crime to send you back. They ought to get complete articulation."
"It's a lot better than it was. It was stiff as a board."
Rinaldi bent it more. I watched his hands. He had fine surgeon's hands. I looked at the top of his head, his hair shiny and parted smoothly. He bent the knee too far.
"Ouch!" I said.
"You ought to have more treatment on it with the machines," Rinaldi said.
"It's better than it was."
"I see that, baby. This is something I know more about than you." He stood up and sat down on the bed. "The knee itself is a good job." He was through with the knee. "Tell me all about everything."
"There's nothing to tell," I said. "I've led a quiet life."
"You act like a married man," he said. "What's the matter with you?"
"Nothing," I said. "What's the matter with you?"
"This war is killing me," Rinaldi said, "I am very depressed by it." He folded his hands over his knee.
"Oh," I said.
"What's the matter? Can't I even have human impulses?"
"No. I can see you've been having a fine time. Tell me."
"All summer and all fall I've operated. I work all the time. I do everybody's work. All the hard ones they leave to me. By God, baby, I am becoming a lovely surgeon."
"That sounds better."
"I never think. No, by God, I don't think; I operate."
"That's right."
"But now, baby, it's all over. I don't operate now and I feel like hell. This is a terrible war, baby. You believe me when I say it. Now you cheer me up. Did you bring the phonograph records?"
"Yes."
They were wrapped in paper in a cardboard box in my rucksack. I was too tired to get them out.
"Don't you feel good yourself, baby?"
"I feel like hell."
"This war is terrible," Rinaldi said. "Come on. We'll both get drunk and be cheerful. Then we'll go get the ashes dragged. Then we'll feel fine."
"I've had the jaundice," I said, "and I can't get drunk."
"Oh, baby, how you've come back to me. You come back serious and with a liver. I tell you this war is a bad thing. Why did we make it anyway."
"We'll have a drink. I don't want to get drunk but we'll have a drink."
Rinaldi went across the room to the washstand and brought back two glasses and a bottle of cognac.
"It's Austrian cognac," he said. "Seven stars. It's all they captured on San Gabriele."
"Were you up there?"
"No. I haven't been anywhere. I've been here all the time operating. Look, baby, this is your old tooth-brushing glass. I kept it all the time to remind me of you."
"To remind you to brush your teeth."
"No. I have my own too. I kept this to remind me of you trying to brush away the Villa Rossa from your teeth in the morning, swearing and eating aspirin and cursing harlots. Every time I see that glass I think of you trying to clean your conscience with a toothbrush." He came over to the bed. "Kiss me once and tell me you're not serious."
"I never kiss you. You're an ape."
"I know, you are the fine good Anglo-Saxon boy. I know. You are the remorse boy, I know. I will wait till I see the Anglo-Saxon brushing away harlotry with a toothbrush."
"Put some cognac in the glass."
We touched glasses and drank. Rinaldi laughed at me.
"I will get you drunk and take out your liver and put you in a good Italian liver and make you a man again."
I held the glass for some more cognac. It was dark outside now. Holding the glass of cognac, I went over and opened the window. The rain had stopped falling. It was colder outside and there was a mist in the trees.
"Don't throw the cognac out the window," Rinaldi said. "If you can't drink it give it to me."
"Go something yourself," I said. I was glad to see Rinaldi again. He had spent two years teasing me and I had always liked it. We understood each other very well.
"Are you married?" he asked from the bed. I was standing against the wall by the window.
"Not yet."
"Are you in love?"
"Yes."
"With that English girl?"
"Yes."
"Poor baby. Is she good to you?"
"Of course."
"I mean is she good to you practically speaking?"
"Shut up."
"I will. You will see I am a man of extreme delicacy. Does she--?"
"Rinin," I said. "Please shut up. If you want to be my friend, shut up."
"I don't want to be your friend, baby. I am your friend."
"Then shut up."
"All right."
I went over to the bed and sat down beside Rinaldi. He was holding his glass and looking at the floor.
"You see how it is, Rinin?"
"Oh, yes. All my life I encounter sacred subjects. But very few with you. I suppose you must have them too." He looked at the floor.
"You haven't any?"
"Not any?"
"No."
"I can say this about your mother and that about your sister?"
"And that about your sister," Rinaldi said swiftly. We both laughed.
"The old superman," I said.
"I am jealous maybe," Rinaldi said.
"No, you're not."
"I don't mean like that. I mean something else. Have you any married friends?"
"Yes," I said.
"I haven't," Rinaldi said. "Not if they love each other."
"Why not?"
"They don't like me."
"Why not?"
"I am the snake. I am the snake of reason."
"You're getting it mixed. The apple was reason."
"No, it was the snake."
He was more cheerful.
"You are better when you don't think so deeply," I said.
"I love you, baby," he said. "You puncture me when I become a great Italian thinker. But I know many things I can't say. I know more than you."
"Yes. You do."
"But you will have a better time. Even with remorse you will have a better time."
"I don't think so."
"Oh, yes. That is true. Already I am only happy when I am working." He looked at the floor again.
"You'll get over that."
"No. I only like two other things; one is bad for my work and the other is over in half an hour or fifteen minutes. Sometimes less."
"Sometimes a good deal less."
"Perhaps I have improved, baby. You do not know. But there are only the two things and my work."
"You'll get other things."
"No. We never get anything. We are born with all we have and we never learn. We never get anything new. We all start complete. You should be glad not to be a Latin."
"There's no such thing as a Latin. That is 'Latin' thinking. You are so proud of your defects." Rinaldi looked up and laughed.
"We'll stop, baby. I am tired from thinking so much." He had looked tired when he came in. "It's nearly time to eat. I'm glad you're back. You are my best friend and my war brother."
"When do the war brothers eat?" I asked.
"Right away. We'll drink once more for your liver's sake."
"Like Saint Paul."
"You are inaccurate. That was wine and the stomach. Take a little wine for your stomach's sake."
"Whatever you have in the bottle," I said. "For any sake you mention."
"To your girl," Rinaldi said. He held out his glass.
"All right."
"I'll never say a dirty thing about her."
"Don't strain yourself."
He drank off the cognac. "I am pure," he said. "I am like you, baby. I will get an English girl too. As a matter of fact I knew your girl first but she was a little tall for me. A tall girl for a sister," he quoted.
"You have a lovely pure mind," I said.
"Haven't I? That's why they call me Rinaldo Purissimo."
"Rinaldo Sporchissimo."
"Come on, baby, we'll go down to eat while my mind is still pure."
I washed, combed my hair and we went down the stairs. Rinaldi was a little drunk. In the room where we ate, the meal was not quite ready.
"I'll go get the bottle," Rinaldi said. He went off up the stairs. I sat at the table and he came back with the bottle and poured us each a half tumbler of cognac.
"Too much," I said and held up the glass and sighted at the lamp on the table.
"Not for an empty stomach. It is a wonderful thing. It burns out the stomach completely. Nothing is worse for you."
"All right."
"Self-destruction day by day," Rinaldi said. "It ruins the stomach and makes the hand shake. Just the thing for a surgeon."
"You recommend it?"
"Heartily. I use no other. Drink it down, baby, and look forward to being sick."
I drank half the glass. In the hall I could hear the orderly calling. "Soup! Soup is ready!"
The major came in, nodded to us and sat down. He seemed very small at table.
"Is this all we are?" he asked. The orderly put the soup bowl down and he ladled out a plate full.
"We are all," Rinaldi said. "Unless the priest comes. If he knew Federico was here he would be here."
"Where is he?" I asked.
"He's at 307," the major said. He was busy with his soup. He wiped his mouth, wiping his upturned gray mustache carefully. "He will come I think. I called them and left word to tell him you were here."
"I miss the noise of the mess," I said.
"Yes, it's quiet," the major said.
"I will be noisy," said Rinaldi.
"Drink some wine, Enrico," said the major. He filled my glass. The spaghetti came in and we were all busy. We were finishing the spaghetti when the priest came in. He was the same as ever, small and brown and compact looking. I stood up and we shook hands. He put his hand on my shoulder.
"I came as soon as I heard," he said.
"Sit down," the major said. "You're late."
"Good-evening, priest," Rinaldi said, using the English word. They had taken that up from the priest-baiting captain, who spoke a little English. "Good-evening, Rinaldo," the priest said. The orderly brought him soup but he said he would start with the spaghetti.
"How are you?" he asked me.
"Fine," I said. "How have things been?"
"Drink some wine, priest," Rinaldi said. "Take a little wine for your stomach's sake. That's Saint Paul, you know."
"Yes I know," said the priest politely. Rinaldi filled his glass.
"That Saint Paul," said Rinaldi. "He's the one who makes all the trouble." The priest looked at me and smiled. I could see that the baiting did not touch him now.
"That Saint Paul," Rinaldi said. "He was a rounder and a chaser and then when he was no longer hot he said it was no good. When he was finished he made the rules for us who are still hot. Isn't it true, Federico?"
The major smiled. We were eating meat stew now.
"I never discuss a Saint after dark," I said. The priest looked up from the stew and smiled at me.
"There he is, gone over with the priest," Rinaldi said. "Where are all the good old priest-baiters? Where is Cavalcanti? Where is Brundi? Where is Cesare? Do I have to bait this priest alone without support?"
"He is a good priest," said the major.
"He is a good priest," said Rinaldi. "But still a priest. I try to make the mess like the old days. I want to make Federico happy. To hell with you, priest!"
I saw the major look at him and notice that he was drunk. His thin face was white. The line of his hair was very black against the white of his forehead.
"It's all right, Rinaldo," said the priest. "It's all right."
"To hell with you," said Rinaldi. "To hell with the whole damn business." He sat back in his chair.
"He's been under a strain and he's tired," the major said to me. He finished his meat and wiped up the gravy with a piece of bread.
"I don't give a damn," Rinaldi said to the table. "To hell with the whole business." He looked defiantly around the table, his eyes flat, his face pale.
"All right," I said. "To hell with the whole damn business."
"No, no," said Rinaldi. "You can't do it. You can't do it. I say you can't do it. You're dry and you're empty and there's nothing else. There's nothing else I tell you. Not a damned thing. I know, when I stop working."
The priest shook his head. The orderly took away the stew dish.
"What are you eating meat for?" Rinaldi turned to the priest. "Don't you know it's Friday?"
"It's Thursday," the priest said.
"It's a lie. It's Friday. You're eating the body of our Lord. It's God-meat. I know. It's dead Austrian. That's what you're eating."
"The white meat is from officers," I said, completing the old joke.
Rinaldi laughed. He filled his glass.
"Don't mind me," he said. "I'm just a little crazy."
"You ought to have a leave," the priest said.
The major shook his head at him.
Rinaldi looked at the priest.
"You think I ought to have a leave?"
The major shook his head at the priest. Rinaldi was looking at the priest.
"Just as you like," the priest said. "Not if you don't want."
"To hell with you," Rinaldi said. "They try to get rid of me. Every night they try to get rid of me. I fight them off. What if I have it. Everybody has it. The whole world's got it. First," he went on, assuming the manner of a lecturer, "it's a little pimple. Then we notice a rash between the shoulders. Then we notice nothing at all. We put our faith in mercury."
"Or salvarsan," the major interrupted quietly.
"A mercurial product," Rinaldi said. He acted very elated now. "I know something worth two of that. Good old priest," he said. "You'll never get it. Baby will get it. It's an industrial accident. It's a simple industrial accident."
The orderly brought in the sweet and coffee. The dessert was a sort of black bread pudding with hard sauce. The lamp was smoking; the black smoke going close up inside the chimney.
"Bring two candles and take away the lamp," the major said. The orderly brought two lighted candles each in a saucer, and took out the lamp blowing it out. Rinaldi was quiet now. He seemed all right. We talked and after the coffee we all went out into the hall.
"You want to talk to the priest. I have to go in the town," Rinaldi said. "Good-night, priest."
"Good-night, Rinaldo," the priest said.
"I'll see you, Fredi," Rinaldi said.
"Yes," I said. "Come in early." He made a face and went out the door. The major was standing with us. "He's very tired and overworked," he said. "He thinks too he has syphilis. I don't believe it but he may have. He is treating himself for it. Good-night. You will leave before daylight, Enrico?"
"Yes."
"Good-by then," he said. "Good luck. Peduzzi will wake you and go with you."
"Good-by, Signor Maggiore."
"Good-by. They talk about an Austrian offensive but I don't believe it. I hope not. But anyway it won't be here. Gino will tell you everything. The telephone works well now."
"I'll call regularly."
"Please do. Good-night. Don't let Rinaldi drink so much brandy."
"I'll try not to."
"Good-night, priest."
"Good-night, Signor Maggiore."
He went off into his office.
