A little thing like that, however, is not going
to be allowed to stand between friends; already new words and phrases
are being coined, mutually acceptable to both parties.
The first sign I saw of our arrival in this country was a derelict
mess-tin on a country station platform; at the next station I saw
a derelict rifle; at the next a whole derelict kit, and lastly a
complete-in-all-parts derelict soldier. He was surrounded by a small
crowd of native men, women and children, anxious to show their
appreciation of his nation by assisting himself. They were doing their
utmost to ascertain his needs; they were trying him with slices of
bread, a _fiasco_ of chianti, words of intense admiration, flowers. It
was none of these things he wanted; he had only missed his train and
wanted to know what to do about it. But how were they to know that?
When a Latin misses his train he doesn't sit down stolidly and think
slowly.
I went to his aid. From the manner in which he rose to salute me they
guessed that I was the Commander-in-Chief of all the English, and
were for giving me an ovation. Thomas explained his trouble to me in
half-a-dozen words; I solved it for him in even fewer. Thomas and I
quite understood each other, and there was no want of sympathy and
fellow-feeling between us. To the small crowd, however, this was the
extreme of brutal curtness. They now thought I was of the English
_carabinieri_, and that Thomas was being led off to his execution.
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