ACROSS the RIVER and INTO the TREES by ERNEST HEMINGWAY

“No.”

“I can rest on my feet, or against a God damned tree. My countrymen sit down, or lie down, or fall down. Give them a few energy crackers to stall their whimpers.”

He was talking too much to regain confidence quickly.

“Do they really have energy crackers?”

“Sure. It has something in it that keeps you from get­ting erections. It’s like the atomic bomb, only played backwards.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“We have the most terrific military secrets that one General’s wife ever told another. Energy crackers is the least of it. Next time we will give all Venice botulism from 56,000 feet. There’s nothing to it,” the Colonel explained. “They give you anthrax, and you give them botulism.”

“But it will be horrible.”

“It will be worse than that,” the Colonel assured him. “This isn’t classified. It’s all been published. And while it goes on you can hear Margaret, if you tune in right, singing the Star Spangled Banner on the radio. I think that could be arranged. The voice I would not describe as a big one. Not as we know voices who have heard the good ones in our time. But everything is a trick now. The radio can almost make the voice. And the Star Spangled Banner is fool-proof until toward the last.”

“Do you think they will drop anything here?”

“No. They never have.”

The Colonel, who was four star general now, in his wrath and in his agony and in his need for confidence, but secured temporarily through the absorption of the tablets, said, “Ciao, Domenico,” and left the Gritti.

He figured it took twelve and one half minutes to reach the place where his true love would probably arrive a little late. He walked it carefully and at the speed he should walk it. The bridges were all the same.

CHAPTER XXIV

HIS true love was at the table at the exact time that she said she would be. She was as beautiful as always in the hard, morning light that came across the flooded square, and she said, “Please, Richard. Are you all right? Please?”

“Sure,” the Colonel said. “You wonder beauty.”

“Did you go to all our places in the market?”

“Only a few of them. I did not go to where they have the wild ducks.”

“Thank you.”

“For nothing,” the Colonel said. “I never go there when we are not together.”

“Don’t you think I should go to the shoot?”

“No. I am quite sure. Alvarito would have asked you if he wanted you.”

“He might not have asked me because he wanted me.”

“That’s true,” the Colonel said, and pondered that for two seconds. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Breakfast is worthless here, and I don’t like the square when it is flooded. It is sad and the pigeons have no place to alight. It is only really fun toward the last when the children play. Should we go and have break­fast at the Gritti?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We’ll have breakfast there. I’ve had mine al­ready.”

“Really?”

“I’ll have some coffee and hot rolls, and only feel them with my fingers. Are you awfully hungry?”

“Awfully,” she said, truly.

“We’ll give breakfast the full treatment,” the Colonel said. “You’ll wish you had never heard of breakfast.”

As they walked, with the wind at their back, and her hair blowing better than any banner, she asked him, holding close, “Do you still love me in the cold, hard Venice light of morning? It is really cold and hard isn’t it?”

“I love you and it is cold and hard.”

“I loved you all night when I was skiing in the dark.”

“How do you do that?”

“It is the same runs except that it is dark and the snow is dark instead of light. You ski the same; controlled and good.”

“Did you ski all night? That would be many runs.”

“No. Afterwards I slept soundly and well and I woke happy. You were with me and you were asleep like a baby.”

“I wasn’t with you and I was not asleep.”

“You’re with me now,” she said and held close and tight.

“And we are almost there.”

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