of which she ran as swiftly as her feet would carry her, at a corner of the Via Colomba she allowed herself to be caught—­wilfully, beyond a doubt, seeing that she was not a bit breathed—­allowed one quick taste of her lips, and then shrieked as naturally as a netted bird, and brought a hustling crowd just at that particular point to her rescue:  not less than fifty, and all men.  ‘Not a woman among them!’ the excited young officer repeated.

A veteran in similar affairs could see that he had the wish to remain undisturbed in his bewilderment at the damsel’s conduct.  Profound belief in her partiality for him perplexed his recent experience rather agreeably.  Indeed, it was at this epoch an article of faith with the Austrian military that nothing save terror of their males kept sweet Italian women from the expression of their preference for the broad-shouldered, thick-limbed, yellow-haired warriors—­the contrast to themselves which is supposed greatly to inspirit genial Cupid in the selection from his quiver.

‘What became of her?  Did you let her go?’ came pestering remarks, too absurd for replies if they had not been so persistent.

’Let her go?  In the devil’s name, how was I to keep my hold of her in a crowd of fifty of the fellows, all mowing, and hustling, and elbowing—­ every rascal stinking right under my nose like the pit?’

‘’Hem!’ went the General present.  ’As long as you did not draw!  Unsheathe, a minute.’

He motioned for a sight of their naked swords.

The couple of young officers flushed.

‘Herr General!  Pardon!’ they remonstrated.

’No, no.  I know how boys talk; I’ve been one myself.  Tutt!  You tell the truth, of course; but the business is for me to know in what! how far!  Your swords, gentlemen.’

‘But, General!’

‘Well?  I merely wish to examine the blades.’

‘Do you doubt our words?’

’Hark at them!  Words?  Are you lawyers?  A soldier deals in acts.  I don’t want to know your words, but your deeds, my gallant lads.  I want to look at the blades of your swords, my children.  What was the last order?  That on no account were we to provoke, or, if possibly to be avoided, accept a collision, etc., etc.  The soldier in peace is a citizen, etc.  No sword on any account, or for any excuse, to be drawn, etc.  You all heard it?  So, good!  I receive your denial, my children.  In addition, I merely desire to satisfy curiosity.  Did the guard clear a way for you?’

The answer was affirmative.

‘Your swords!’

One of them drew, and proffered the handle.

The other clasped the haft angrily, and with a resolute smack on it, settled it in the scabbard.

‘Am I a prisoner, General?’

‘Not at all!’

‘Then I decline to surrender my sword.’

Another General officer happened to be sauntering by.  Applauding with his hands, and choosing the Italian language as the best form of speech for the enunciation of ironical superlatives, he said: