The Dwarf

She turned around and looked at me, laughing heartily and the maid echoed her mirth. “A man!” she cried provokingly, as though there were anything fu

I could see no humor in it, and I stared at them with a frigid and contemptuous gaze. Laughter is unlovely and disfiguring. Seeing their mouths suddenly open and uncover the red gums affects me very unpleasantly. And I ca

What particularly a

As for Boccarossa, it is quite natural that I should admire him; I, too, have a martial disposition.

THE DAYS pass, and we wait, not knowing what to do.

Yesterday I Was sent with a message to Maestro Bernardo at Santa Croce. He is still there, working on his Last Supper. I have often wondered why he was not at the front, watching the crushing power of his own strange machines, but he seems content to construct them. I really thought that he would want to see them in action. Out there he could have had all the corpses he wanted to dissect and could have made great strides in his science.

I found him deep in contemplation of his noble creation, so preoccupied that he did not notice my entrance. When he raised his eyes they looked as though they were still very far away. He did not seem to pay much attention to my martial accou-terment, though he never before had seen me so equipped. He noticed it, but showed neither surprise nor any special interest in it. “What do you want with me, little hobgoblin?” he asked amiably. I gave my message, though I was a

He never said a word about the war, though he could see that I had come straight from it. I had the impression that he was utterly indifferent to it.

The Signoria has refused to lend us any more money! Their envoy has a

The Prince must find a way out, and of course he will. A great and glorious war ca

The palace is crammed with equerries, foreign envoys, councilors and commanders, and couriers spend their time shuttling between the Prince and the front.

I am absolutely crazy with excitement.

BOCCAROSSA’s mercenaries refuse to go on fighting! They want their pay, first that which is already due them, and double as much afterward. They will not stir until they have received this. The Prince ca

What is going to happen now? What will be the end of it all?

The Prince is sure to find some solution, his ingenuity is nothing short of devilish. He enjoys reverses, for they give him a chance to show his greatness. And our own invincible army still stands outside the walls of Montanza’s capital. Let us not forget that!

The war is coming to an end! The troops are going to withdraw over the frontier and return home and everything is finished! Finished!

I must be dreaming! It must be a dream, a horrible nightmare! It ca

But it is true. True! Bitter unbelievable truth! All one’s being refuses to grasp it.

Avarice, infamy, treachery, all human baseness combined has vanquished our heroic army and wrenched the weapons from its hands. Our glorious undefeated troops stand in their threatening might before the enemy’s gates, yet they must retreat without exchanging a blow! They must go home, betrayed and abandoned, home, though their sole desire is to conquer or die! It is an outrageous, criminal tragedy.

Our great war, the noblest in all our history, to end like this!

I am stu

It is over. Everything is over. Over!

When I heard the news and finally grasped its import, I crept away to the dwarfs’ apartment, so as to be alone with myself. I was afraid that my feelings might get the better of me, and that I should not be able to exercise manly self-control. Scarcely had I entered my little bare chamber when I began to shake all over in a paroxysm of sobs. I confess it: I could no longer hold it back. I pressed my clenched fists to my eyes in helpless fury and wept. Wept!

THE PRINCE keeps to his room, nor will he receive any visitofs. He eats there in solitude. I wait on him and am the only one to see him except the servant who carries in the food. He seems quite calm, but it is not easy to say what may be hiding behind that pallid mask of his. His face is chalk white, framed in its black beard, his gaze immobile and unseeing. He scarcely notices my presence, and not a word passes his thin bloodless lips. The wretched servant is terrified of him, but then he is a miserable coward.

When he heard of the Venetian refusal, that the damned shopkeepers’ republic intended to stop him from proceeding with the war, he flew into a passion such as I had never seen before. He literally foamed at the mouth with rage, a fearful sight. In his frenzy he seized his dagger and drove it into the table, nearly up to the hilt. If the despicable hucksters could have seen him then, I’ll warrant they would have laid their money on the table without any further haggling.