"Bersaglierino, I, too, am alone in the world, free to dispose of myself. I am not rich, but I have enough to live on; I am not a professor, but I am widely educated.... I will be frank; if to-morrow a brave man like you, in the same condition, should come and ask me ..."

"To be his wife?"

"I should say yes, and I should be proud. Do you understand? Proud of him and of the medal shining on his breast, which would seem like my own...."

"Oh! Fatina, Fatina!"

He could say no more. Tears choked him. But she looked at him tenderly with her kind eyes, and in them, too two large tears were shining.

Pinocchio could not stand any more of this. For half an hour he had been hidden under the bed, had therefore listened to this n.o.ble dialogue, and had had to bite his lips to keep from crying. But as it was not amusing he could not stand it any longer. He crawled very quietly from his hiding-place, approached Fatina and Bersaglierino cautiously and without their seeing him or being able to put up any resistance, he gathered the two heads in his arms, brought them close together, and held them close, covering them both with kisses.

Pinocchio's generous and lovable impulse had found the way to unite these two beings whom destiny had brought together. The picture they made was interesting and touching and would have touched every one who knew them, if at this moment Captain Teschisso had not entered, quite made over by the barber.

"What ... what are you doing? Aren't you preparing for the august visit?"

"Augusta? Who's she?"

"What? Don't you know that the King, the commander-in-chief of our army, the first soldier of New Italy, the head of the state, the corporal of the Zouaves, like his grandfather before him, the flower of gentlemen, a good father of his family, one of the wisest sovereigns of Europe...? In short, you'll see him soon. Hurry up, because when I came in the royal automobile had been sighted.... Don't you think that dog of a barber fixed me up fine? Anyway, he was able to get rid of the half of my beard which the Germans shaved with a sh.e.l.l."

The King? This short word frightened Pinocchio terribly. This man who commanded everybody, who could put everybody in prison, who was named Majesty, August, and Victor Emanuel all at the same time, who caused the rooms to be polished in five minutes, who set Cutemup to trembling, who kept all the wounded in the hospital in order, all of them men of valor who had held their own against hundreds of the foe--frightened him like a hobgoblin or something similar. At the very thought of having his glance fall upon him he felt goose-flesh all over his body.

"It isn't fear; it is lack of courage or something of that sort, but I must get out of the way. I have never had anything to do with kings and I don't know much about the way they think. If Augusta, or his Majesty, is in a bad humor and should find my presence among the soldiers out of order, he can bat his eye at Cutemup, make him a sign, and ... whack! ... my head would roll on the ground. Wouldn't that murderer of a surgeon be glad to be revenged for the kick I gave him in the stomach? Yes, I must find some way ..."

His musings were interrupted by three bugle notes which brought every one to attention.

"There he is! There he is!"

Then resounded enthusiastic hurrahs for the King.

Pinocchio disappeared under Bersaglierino's bed ... popped up again, disguised himself, and no one noticed that ...

Captain Teschisso and the Bersaglierino stood at attention at the foot of their beds, straight and immovable, awaiting the royal visit. The King in his soldier way entered without ceremony, followed by his aide-de-camp, General Win-the-War, Major Cutemup, and a number of other officers of the garrison, Red Cross nurses, and other wounded who had come from their rooms to take part in the ceremony. It didn't seem possible that the room could hold so many persons, but all of them crowded in, squeezing together in order to see the King and to be near to him. And his face, which was wrinkled, was illuminated by a kindly smile that spread out from his thick mustache grown prematurely white. He gave Teschisso a military salute, then shook his hand vigorously and said:

"I am so pleased to see you recovered. I am sure that when you go back to your regiment I shall hear more of you. You Alpine troopers are all of you wonderful soldiers."

"For Italy and for our King, your Majesty."

"For our Italy greater than ever."

"She shall be, if we have to shed all our blood."

"Such is my belief."

Major Cutemup had suddenly turned crimson with rage, and approached Fatina, his large, angry eyes scowling at her from behind his eyegla.s.ses.

"Why have you treated me so?" he asked, in a low, furious voice.

"I?"

"Yes. I told you to put everything in order."

"Well?"

"Look at that mess!" and he nodded toward a kind of clothes-hanger near the head of Bersaglierino's bed, on which were hung a hat with c.o.c.k plumes, a coat, with a pair of trousers all torn and ragged and dirty. It was the uniform the brave young soldier had worn on the field and which Fatina had hidden under the bed a little while ago.

Fatina didn't know what to say. The sudden appearance of this clothes-hanger, ... those clothes spread out, affected her so that she had no thought of the major or of his rage, which escaped in such violent outbursts that they would have started a windmill going.

The King had approached Bersaglierino, and General Win-the-War presented him, with these words:

"Your Majesty, this brave soldier has been proposed for the medal of valor for the following reasons: enrolled as a volunteer, he took part in the first battles with the enemy, giving an example of courage and discipline; he volunteered to blow up the enemy wire defenses; he carried out the a.s.signment given him, and, unhurt himself, he tried to free a comrade caught on the barbed wire and managed to put to flight an enemy patrol which attacked him. Then he was. .h.i.t several times by machine-gun fire. Carried to the first-aid station, he showed the greatest self-control and cheered for his King and his country when he learned that his efforts had enabled his company to take an important trench from the enemy."

The King took from the hand of his adjutant a silver medal hung from a light-blue ribbon and pinned it on Bersaglierino's breast, who was so pale with emotion that he looked as if he would faint, then clasped the soldier's right hand in both of his and said:

"Bravo! Bravo! Bravo! You have done your duty as an Italian soldier.

Treasure this medal which your country gives you by the hand of your King. Wear it always proudly on your breast. Every one should know that you deserve it and that they should follow your example.... You are crying? But it is with happiness, is it not?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

"And now that you have recovered, what will you do?"

"I shall go back to my profession. I am a journalist."

"And ... will you be able?"

"I hope so. I was very severely wounded, but ..."

"You cured him, Major Cutemup?"

"I myself, your Majesty; he was one of the worst cases. The left arm carried away by a sh.e.l.l splinter, wounded on the temple, and threatened with damage to his eye, wounded in his third upper rib and another wound in the groin with lesion in the intestines. An abdominal operation was performed, his arm was amputated and there was a suture in the occipital region.... The poor fellow has certainly had his share."

"You can see that by looking at his glorious uniform; it is indeed a doc.u.ment."

The uniform in question trembled and the plumed hat shook.

"Yes ... truly ... but ..."

"Would you deny it?"

"No, your Majesty, I wanted to say that that uniform shouldn't be there just now. It is a glorious object, but in a hospital ward it may have infectious germs.... I had given orders to ... but ... and if your Majesty will permit, I will give orders to remove it at once."

He had scarcely finished speaking when the coat, trousers, and hat suddenly fell to the ground with such a curious noise that Cutemup could not help running up to see what had happened. Imagine how he looked when he found himself face to face with Pinocchio, cold with terror. He tried to hide him with the glorious garments in order to carry him off, bundled up in them, but the King turned and asked:

"What's happened?"

"Your Majesty, I don't know how to explain it.... Under these clothes was hidden a wretch who ..."

"Ah! I saw. I know him. Pinocchio is one of my old and dear acquaintances. I am glad to see him among my soldiers, in semi-military garb. Leave to Bersaglierino this uniform that is dear to him. It will be a glorious souvenir for his family. Good-by, brave soldier; remember your King. I called to you in the hour of need; if to-morrow you have need of me, remember that I shall never forget those who have served me on the battle-field."

And the good King, the loving father, the model soldier, turned to leave, followed by his suite.