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 the town heavy with it; when the sweet faces of girls show its conflicts and the desire to kill comes into the placid eyes of mothers of children, then is one's own torment made tenfold.

When Mazzaleone asked me, "And what do you think of it, boy?" I replied to him in my agony:

"I think, sir, that the taking of no city could have caused you more pleasure." "I have seen a gallant fight," says he, "and a man lead a forlorn hope."

"Then let him win," I cried.

"Am I fate or God," said Mazzaleone, "to meddle with this vast spectacle? You do me too much credit. I am only one who sits watching by the wayside without meddling."

So the battle raged in me as it did through the city streets and in the houses and palaces, till the town was sick with its own doubts. Even among the houses of Da Sala and Degli Oddi had the voice of Brother Agnello penetrated.

"I had thought that this hate was made of harder stuff," said Mazzaleone to me. "Love is a terrible force, Matteo; so strong