Lucia, eager and excited, snatched Maria’s hand and pulled her into the very center of the crowd.  An officer, with the bugler beside him, read an order from the steps of the town hall, an old gray stone building that had stood in silent dignity at the end of the square for many centuries.

The girls were not 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.  At last she had her wish.  Roderigo’s place was towards the end of the column; when he walked under the gate he looked up and smiled.  It was a sad smile, full of regret.