Now there is silence and darkness around me. Like this morning, within the cold walls of that sanctuary, the mirror of an immortal God in time, perhaps cold to our heartfelt prayers.
Perhaps is all in vain? Our blood, the fire of arms, widowed wives, orphaned children, weeping mothers.
All will be ashes one day.
Sperlinga,
1 March 1864
They brought me a letter from Eufemia.
I was almost falling asleep when, suddenly and unexpectedly, Colanero emerged from behind the rocks. I was frightened and grabbed my rifle, but then I ecognized his face darker than night.
She had heard about the terrible hunt that the Bersaglieri had unleashed against us as soon as they knew I was back at the head of the band.
And today, I must say that they had come so close, perhaps because I had trusted som
