The Dwarf

It will be delightful to take part in the storming of a city. Never before have I had such an opportunity.

I AM IN my usual seat in the dwarfs’ apartment, and there, at the desk which forms part of the furnishings and which fits me very well and is very comfortable to write at, I shall continue with my memorandum of the strange and fateful happenings about me. This may sound unexpected, but a very simple explanation is forthcoming.

We won the battle. We knew it in advance, and also that it must involve considerable losses. The casualties on both sides were heavy, but presumably the enemy came off worse. In future it will be very difficult for them to put up any effective resistance, but for us also it was a serious bloodletting. The second day in particular was gory in the extreme. But what are soldiers for if not to be used? It was not nearly so bad as some maintain.

The reason for our presence here is that the Prince must return home to organize all his forces in order to bring the war to a victorious conclusion. And my inquiries have told me that it was also to obtain the requisite funds for the same object. Such an undertaking must consume huge sums of money. The Prince is said to be negotiating with the Venetian Signoria with a view to procuring them. Those hucksters have more than enough and soon the business will be settled. Then we shall take the field again.

They say that Boccarossa and his men have asked for a higher wage and that they hold that they have not yet received their rights according to an earlier agreement. They are therefore making trouble about this. I had hardly expected them to attach so much importance to this aspect of the war, for none fight with such heroism and recklessness as they. I thought that they loved it for its own sake, as I do, but perhaps one ca

There is also talk of other differences between them and the Prince-but there is so much talk. Some discontent is almost inevitable when an army has suffered losses and everything is not quite as it should be. Nobody is satisfied with the issue and each blames the other. Everybody is temporarily exhausted, they reckon up the casualties on either side and so on and so forth. And though there can be no doubt that Boccarossa’s men are crazy about fighting, it is not because they want to further the Prince’s great schemes, they may not think so much about them. But all these are transient matters of no consequence.

Besides, I am not sufficiently interested in all that and, least of all, in the economic trivialities co

It is dreadfully boring being at home again. Life seems so meaningless, so utterly uneventful when one comes direct from the battlefield. Time drags on and one does not know what to do, all one’s energy seems paralyzed. But it is only a matter of days and soon we shall go out again.

People here are very queer. I mean the servants and those who have not been at the war. They have no notion of what it is all about, it is as though they did not realize that the country is at war. They are surprised when they see me going about in armor, as though they did not know that such is the custom at the front. Were it otherwise one would be an easy prey to the enemy. It would be tantamount to exposing oneself to certain death. They say that there is no danger here, but there is a war going on just the same, and soon I shall be back in the thick of it. Any moment I expect the Prince’s order to leave, and therefore I must be prepared for it. That is why I go about fully armed, but they ca

They ca

Now it so happened that during the great two-day battle we were compelled to occupy a hill between our right wing and the town. It was a costly business but thereby our strategic position was greatly improved. Immediately afterward the Prince mounted the hill to reco

I do not relate this because I think it was anything extraordinary. It was but a trifle, such as may happen any day in wartime, and I do not boast about it; I simply did my duty as a soldier. Nobody knows anything about it, neither the Prince nor anyone else. None suspect that my rapier is dyed with blood and will remain so as a memory of my share, up to now, in the campaign.

In a way I am sorry that it was a dwarf I killed, for I would rather it had been one of the human beings whom I hate. Besides, the combat would have been even more exciting. But I hate my own people too, my own race is detestable to me. And during the fight, especially when dealing the death blow, I felt strangely exalted, as though I were performing a rite in an unfamiliar religion. It was the same when I throttled Jehoshaphat, an irresistible desire to destroy my own tribe. Why? I do not know. I ca

He had a piping castrato voice like all the dwarfs here, and that irritated me. My own voice is rich and deep.

It is a despicable and dishonored race.

Why are they not like me?

TODAY the Princess tried to discuss love with me. She was very sentimental and lachrymose. Why, I don’t know. But she Certainly has reason to be-if she only knew how much! Then she suddenly switched over in her usual unaccountable way and began to jest about it instead. She sat in front of the mirror and the tiring woman arranged her hair while she passed from jest to earnest, chatting desultorily with me in a ma