CHAPTER LXVII 



SHALL WE KILL THEM BOTH? 



UNCLE PAUL went up to his room and came 

 back with a book. 



1 ' What I am going to read to you is from a 

 mounted artilleryman, more expert in the art of the 

 pen than in that of the cannon. At the beginning 

 of this century a French army occupied Calabria. 

 Our gunner belonged to it. Here is a letter he wrote 

 to his cousin: 



" 'One day I was traveling in Calabria. It is a 

 country of bad people who love no one and have a 

 special spite against the French. It would take too 

 long to tell you why ; enough that they mortally hate 

 us and one is sure of a bad time if one falls into their 

 hands. 



" 'My companion was a young man. In these 

 mountains the roads are precipices ; our horses could 

 hardly climb them. My comrade was in front. A 

 path that seemed to him shorter and more practi- 

 cable misled us. It was my fault. Ought I to have 

 put my trust in a man of twenty years? As long as 

 daylight lasted we tried to find our way through the 

 woods ; but the more we tried the more bewildered 

 we got, and it was pitch dark when we reached a 

 dimly lighted house. We entered, not without sus- 

 picion, but what could we do? 



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