laugh.

"You are crazy!" he answered. "That's quite another thing. He, Umberto,
was one single man; we were as numerous as flies. And then, he never
looked at us one by one."

We turned into the Corso Vittorio Emanuele; there were many people on
their way to the station. A company of Alpine soldiers passed with their
trumpets. Two armed policemen passed by on horseback at a gallop. The
day was serene and brilliant.

"Yes!" exclaimed the elder Coretti, growing animated, "it is a real
pleasure to me to see him once more, the general of my division. Ah, how
quickly I have grown old! It seems as though it were only the other day
that I had my knapsack on my shoulders and my gun in my hands, at that
affair of the 24th of June, when we were on the point of coming to
blows. Umberto was going to and fro with his officers, while the cannon
were thundering in the distance; and every one was gazing at him and
saying, 'May there not be a bullet for him also!' I was a thousand miles
from thinking that I should soon find myself so near him, in front of
the lances of the Austrian uhlans; actually, only four paces from each
other, boys. That was a fine day; the sky was like a mirror; but so hot!
Let us see if we can get in."

We had arrived at the station; there was a great crowd,--carriages,
policemen, carabineers, societies with banners. A regimental band was
playing. The elder Coretti attempted to enter the portico, but he was
stopped. Then it occurred to him to force his way into the front row of
the crowd which formed an opening at the entrance; and making way with
his elbow, he succeeded in thrusting us forward also. But the
undulating throng flung us hither and thither a little. The wood-seller
got his eye upon the first pillar of the portico, where the police did
not allow any one to stand; "Come with me," he said suddenly, dragging
us by the hand; and he crossed the empty space in two bounds, and went
and planted himself there, with his back against the wall.

A police brigadier instantly hurried up and said to him, "You can't
stand here."

"I belong to the fourth battalion of forty-nine," replied Coretti,
touching his medal.

The brigadier glanced at it, and said, "Remain."

"Didn't I say so!" exclaimed Coretti triumphantly; "it's a magic word,
that fourth of the forty-ninth! Haven't I the right to see my general
with some little comfort,--I, who was in that squadron? I saw him close
at hand then; it seems right th