t near enough to hear the order, but they soon found
Roderigo in the excited mass of soldiers, and he explained it to them.

"We are to leave for the front at once," he cried excitedly. "We have
not a moment to spare. Tavola has been captured by the enemy, and our
troops are retreating through the Pass."

"The Saints preserve us!" Senora Rudini covered her face with her apron
and cried. "My sons! My sons! Where are they, dead or prisoners?"

"No, no, they are safe," Lucia protested. "They are with the Army.
Don't worry, when the reenforcements reach them they will go forward
again."

But her aunt refused to be comforted. Everywhere in the street women
were calling excitedly, and a number of them besieged the officers for
information.

The soldiers hurried to their billets and got together their kits. The
square buzzed and hummed with excitement and the guns kept up a steady
bass accompaniment.

The bugle sounded a different order every little while. Some of the
more prudent women went home and began packing their household
treasures, but for the most part every one stayed in the market-place
and argued shrilly.

"Come!" Lucia exclaimed, catching Maria's hand. "We can watch them
march off from the top of the wall by the gate."

They ran quickly through the side streets, and by taking many turns
they at last reached the broad top of the wall, which they ran along
until they were just above the north gate.

"Here they come!" Maria exclaimed. "I can hear them."

The paved streets of the town rang with the heavy tramp, tramp of men
marching, and before long they appeared before the gate. The order to
walk four abreast was given. The men took their places, and then at a
brisk pace they marched through the old gate, a sea of bobbing black
hats and cock feathers.

The townspeople followed to cheer them excitedly. Lucia and Maria
leaned dangerously over the edge of the wall in their attempt to
recognize the familiar faces under the hats.

The soldiers looked up and called out gayly at sight of Lucia. She had
taken off her flowered kerchief and was waving it excitedly. The wind
caught her dark hair and blew it across her face, and her bright skirts
in the sunshine made a vivid spot of color against the stone wall. The
men turned often to look back at her as they marched along the wide
road.

Maria did not lift her eyes from the sea of hats beneath her. She was
waiting for one face to look up. A